#hard to tell without the benefit of hindsight
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damn i talked so much in april wtf
#in my archive cleaning up my blog#because i'm a fucking weird guy who cares about that kinda shit for some reason#man i was just saying shit in april what was i on#i was maybe trying to distract myself from turning 30 or w.e#but then i just ended up texting someone i shouldn't have and falling into a cycle#self destruction is funny like that#i think i'm out of that cycle at this point idk#hard to tell without the benefit of hindsight#i lose a lot of time like this#what was i doing from then until now?#working and sleeping i guess#and lamenting the absence of people i care about#i've lost many years of my life this way#i'm not upset about it at the moment its more motivational to get moving and do something i care about#talk to people i care about#that last part is harder as i've become pretty reclusive i guess#not that anyone could tell lol when they see me they think i'm the most functional person ever#but if you come over and see my empty fridge and my unfurnished house and you realize i spend the majority of my time in my head#then you can see the cracks for what they are and you might consider them a chasm#personal#written to move towards positivity
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Fandom 101: The Origin of the Citrus Scale
A guest post by Aeryn Jemariel Knox. (@jemariel)
Ah, the citrus scale. It’s like a cryptid roaming the edges of modern fandom communities. Long-tenured veterans speak of it with affectionate mockery while newcomers google curiously. A relic from a bygone fandom era, the citrus scale saw a brief resurgence in 2018 during the Tumblr porn ban, suggested as a way to avoid the new bot censors trawling for posts with the NSFW tag—though never, I think, in seriousness.
That may have been jocular and short-lived, but it does point to the reasons why the citrus scale was created in the first place. Certain fandom activities have always had to fly under the radar to one degree or another. Whether you’re trying to evade legal action or simply avoid deletion based on explicit content, a certain level of obfuscation is sometimes worthwhile.
It’s not hard to find the generally agreed-upon definitions of the citrus scale’s levels. According to Fanlore, KnowYourMeme, and others, this is more or less the “official” citrus scale:
Orange: Light stuff, kissing, nothing below the waist or under the clothes.
Lime: Groping, implied sex without details, fade-to-black, no intercourse or intimate contact.
Lemon: Sex, in full detailed glory. Woo-hoo! Regardless of the actual acts performed, if you can tell who had an orgasm (or, perhaps, had an orgasm denied), how, and where, it’s a lemon.
Grapefruit: We’ll get into this later.
But these tidy categories are clear thanks to the benefit of hindsight. In the Wild West of the early internet, it was not so easy to pin down exactly what you might be getting into based on which term was used.
At its origin, the citrus scale wasn’t a scale at all. It has its roots in hentai (and was always more popular in anime fandoms), stemming from a specific early hentai film by the title of Cream Lemon (1984). Hentai being what it is, this led to certain subculture communities referring to any story with explicit sexual content as a “Lemon.” And for a while, that was the extent of it. Then came fanfiction.net purging explicit content (2002), Livejournal suffering Strikethru (2007), and other events that pushed burgeoning fandom communities out of their growing hubs and back into smaller, isolated communities centered on a single fandom or pairing. In the relatively sparse early ’00’s internet, anybody could spin up an Angelfire website, pass the link around to their friends, and get a reasonable amount of traffic. Websites devoted to the works of a single author or small group were common.
I mention this to describe the landscape in which fandom lexicons grew and evolved in the early-mid 2000s. Each pocket community had its own rules, lingo, and expectations; venturing outside of your home pocket could lead to some pretty major miscommunications.
“Lemon” was established early and its definition has hardly shifted. It means that the labeled content (art, fic, mood board, etc.) includes sex. Intercourse, bumping uglies, etc. However, some yaoi fandom niches used it specifically to mean gay sex of the male variety. In some communities, “lime” developed as a corresponding term for feminine gay sex, while other communities brought it up with the usage that eventually “stuck,” “not quite a lemon.” Given that lemon and lime often go hand in hand when discussing actual flavors, the fact that we had some divergent term evolution is not surprising. But coming in from a different pocket of fandom and seeing “lime,” thinking you’ll be reading semi-softcore sexual tension and instead being confronted with graphic sapphic antics? Bit of a shock, I’m sure.
A more dramatic example is the rating level of “Grapefruit,” which occupies two completely different ends of the scale. In some circles, grapefruit was defined as “less intense than lime,” G or PG-rated stories that were more soft or cute than sexy. In other circles, it was used to mean the exact opposite. Kinkier than kink, smuttier than smut, grapefruit art and fic was where you went to have your eyebrows singed off. Some communities were even more specific, using grapefruit for stories featuring non-consensual sex. This was where darkfic lived – in modern day parlance, your “Dead Dove, Do Not Eat” works. To say that this usage difference caused some disagreements would be putting it mildly.
Nobody really worried about orange. Orange just existed, not bothering anybody.
When these terms were coined, the internet was not an assumed aspect of everybody’s daily life the way it is today. There was no Tumblr, no Facebook, no social media to speak of. There were no large repositories of internet lore and knowledge such as Urban Dictionary or KnowYourMeme. It was a playground. And what do you do on a playground? You make friends! The citrus scale, like so many fandom tropes and concepts, was defined by groups of friends that created them ad hoc to meet their own needs at the time. No one could have predicted that it would become so much a fandom history that it’d be enshrined, nor that I would be writing a blog post about it two decades later. From the common source of lemon, people extrapolated what the rest of the scale might look like, and there was no authority to tell them they were wrong. (Except other fans. That hasn’t changed.)
In conclusion, it’s best not to take the citrus scale too seriously. At best, it’s a cheeky way to avoid censors who try to bar a community from engaging with explicit works, but it’s also varied to a fault and open to interpretation. If you and your community have come up with a use for it that suits your needs, then congratulations: you’re part of a fandom tradition stretching back to the roots of the internet. Just don’t try and tell anybody else that they’re wrong. You might start a flame war.
References:
Prokopetz: Orange and Grapefruit
She’s Got Plans: What is the Citrus Scale in Fanfiction?
Unwinnable: Lemon and Lime
Past Fandom 101 Posts:
Everything About A/B/O Dynamics You Wanted to Know (but were Afraid to Ask)
How to Diversify Your To-Be-Read Pile
Recognizing AI Generated Images, Danmei Edition
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I’ve got tons of photos of dragonflies! Texas gets a lot of them, and my area luckily isn’t super developed or urbanized. This is Miniscule Mustard Michael, they were very small. I found them a couple nights ago confounded by our porch light(as they were actually small enough to fly up into it), but safely relocated them to our much less lit backyard and got them to perch on a stick. But they stuck around on me for a few minutes, which was neat.
Then there’s these more average sized lads. This one was on my college campus and let me gently move it away from a construction site before flying away, ironically only like 15 minutes after my economic entomology professor explained how hard it is to catch dragonflies for the collection project we had to do, and how silly folks look trying to chase them with nets. Maybe they should just try being slow and calm and they’ll have more luck, though admittedly I think it’s preferable that fewer dragonflies end up caught and pinned for displays that will end up neglected and ultimately provide little useful information about the specimens in question given the class being more horticulture based than bug research based. I ended up being given permission to do mine with pictures I took, thankfully.
This one was another individual confused by our porch that kept flying into the light and window until I intervened. It let me get some nice pictures before flying off into the night, though this one’s the only one that shows the whole fella. If I recall correctly it’s a black saddlebags— not a species I see up close very often!
This one was certified rude and interrupted my attempt to get pictures of a tiny moth that looked like a tiny dead leaf. Though, I couldn’t be too mad at it, since it did provide cool pictures itself, and looked to be near the end of its life anyways given the wing damage. Free meal for the elderly I guess.
These two polite lads let me get very close for these pictures and for that I am grateful. Even the “plain” brown dragonflies can be beautiful and have blobs of color, it’s just hard to see most of the time.
And lastly, here’s the time I found two at once(on our back porch this time, being harassed by a ceiling fan) and managed to get this neat shot before getting them out from under the roof. It’s nice to have mosquito guards near the house but it’s better for them to not have structures above them when possible I imagine. I know it wasn’t necessary and in hindsight I should have just moved them out into the yard without taking advantage of their tendency to perch on fingers, but neither was harmed or forcefully coerced into doing so at least…
And here’s a bonus large damselfly (great spreadwing I think?) that looks like it thought it was supposed to be a dragonfly. We get plenty but other than one that landed on my shirt carrying a tiny pink flower bud, most fly off when I get close. This one was trapped in the house but let me take it out after a dramatic bathroom chase and my dad getting fed up with my insect relocating antics. Chances are it only perched on me because it was tired, poor thing. I wish there was a way to tell bugs you’re trying to help.
Obligatory “don’t pick up bugs when you don’t need to do so for their benefit, it causes them unnecessary stress and exposes them to all kinds of human skin gunk, let them do things on their terms and sometimes you’ll get lucky and they’ll deem you Inanimate Object Safe For Hold On To” PSA.
an impressive collection of winged beasts
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Just Thinking About You: A Tying You to Me Extra
Word Count: 2K || Series Masterlist || Rating: M
January/February 2019
Harry didn’t know what hurt worse. The pounding in his head or the ache in his chest that had been his permanent companion since July.
He rolled over and looked at the clock. It was just after three in the morning. At least he got five hours of sleep under his belt. He’d learned over the past several months that once he woke, it was hard to drift back off thanks to his racing mind.
He’d been trying different methods of relaxing over the weeks – meditation, long walks, yoga, fresh air, calling his mom – but the remedy he’d chosen last night had been alcohol, accepting shot after shot from some friends of a friend who’d dragged him from bar to bar. He figured it would knock him out cold, but instead he found himself wide awake and alarmingly clear-headed. He sighed as he rolled over in bed, cringing when he landed on the cool side of the sheets. The usually refreshing sensation just reminded him of how alone he was.
It had been about six months since he’d last spoken to Quinn as she’d left his house, crying over pain he’d needlessly inflicted on her. He’d been the one that was responsible, but had done nothing to comfort her and just let her walk away. It seemed like the right decision at the time, but he regretted it daily.
He sat up and grabbed his phone, flicking his thumb across the screen to unlock the device and navigate to his chain of messages with Quinn. It was always at the top of the thread thanks to the near daily texts he sent her. He looked at the most recent ones.
Happy New Year, Agent Q. Hope you’re well. I miss you.
Tried a new type of candy today. You’d probably like it. It tasted like Skittles.
Caught some sketches from last night. The show was great.
Would you want to catch up sometime?
The last message had been sent just hours earlier at the peak of his intoxication. He hated how pitiful he sounded, even months after their break up. He picked at a loose piece of skin on his thumb as he scrolled further and further back, taking in the transition from his pleading messages to the terse ones they shared during his time on tour. With the benefit of hindsight, it was plain to see that something was wrong, but his head had been so far up his own ass at that point that he’d thought they were fine. He continued to pick at his finger as he read over the words, wincing when he pulled a large chunk of skin off. He pulled his thumb to his mouth, sucking away the droplet of blood that had formed.
Tears pricked at the corner of his eyes and he tried to tell himself that he was crying due to the pain in his finger, but he couldn’t lie. He laughed bitterly at the situation: he was quite literally a grown man sitting in a hotel room crying while he sucked his thumb. If only Quinn could see him now. Maybe she was better off without him.
The tears fell harder as he kept scrolling, reading through the light banter they’d exchanged early on and taking in just how much Quinn cared about him. All of those early messages had asked after him.
How are you?
How was the flight?
Are you getting over that cold?
Feeling nervous about the show tonight?
It was only as he read them with fresh eyes that he realized I’d rarely returned the favor, so caught up in his own life and own shit that he never thought to think of her.
Reaching the very beginning of their chat history he closed out of their messages and opened the Photos app just two squares over, now an act of muscle memory after making it part of his nightly routine. He knew exactly where to look, cycling past snapshots of his recent travels to find the three measly pictures they’d taken during their time together.
One was a screenshot he’d taken during one of their many FaceTime calls, each of them bundled up in their respective beds, and another was a shot of the two of them from his final show at the Forum. He hated that one. Quinn’s eyes looked so sad. His favorite was from one of the first times he’d made an effort to visit her, when he was in town to play Radio City. It was a selfie in bed, taken the morning after his show. Quinn had pulled the sheets up to her neck and was trying to hide from the camera, turning her face into Harry’s shoulder. She’d never looked more beautiful.
A chain of meaningless texts and three photos. How could that be all that was left of the most significant relationship in his life?
Ever a glutton for punishment, he pulled up Quinn’s Instagram profile. He didn’t know why. It would be exactly the same as yesterday. He felt a tightening in his chest as he looked at the small profile picture. She was in a park somewhere, smiling brightly, hair blowing behind her. She was looking off the side, smiling and laughing at someone off camera. Fuck, he missed her. She’d changed the profile picture since they’d spoken and he couldn’t help but wonder who made her laugh like that. Had she ever been that happy with him?
Looking at the grid, he found the same 72 images that had been there when he’d looked yesterday. She hadn’t posted anything since before she flew out to Los Angeles to see him. No posts, no stories, nothing. Unless she’d been using her Close Friends group, which he clearly wasn’t a part of. Fiddling with the raw skin of his thumb again, stared at the screen. Was the lack of new posts because she was so happy in the real world that she didn’t need to share in the virtual one? Or was she so despondent that she couldn’t bear logging on? He’d never want her to feel upset, but there was a small part of him that hoped he wasn’t alone in feeling as sad and lost as he did.
He placed his phone on the bed next to him and rubbed his face, dragging his hands across his cheekbones. Opening his eyes, he fixed his gaze on a small scuff on the ceiling. He’d spent his sleepless nights trying to figure out how the mark had ended up there. He still hadn’t come up with an answer. Quinn would probably know, or at least have some theory about it. She was smart like that.
He closed his eyes again and took a deep, calming breath. As he tried to rest his mind, he thought back to the last time he’d visited the city the previous September.
New York always put him on edge. It was easily the most difficult city to stay under the radar in. Someone or some camera was always lurking around the corner, ready to pounce, and keeping his guard up 24/7 was exhausting. But when his flight touched down, the wave of anxiety that washed over him had nothing to do with fans or paparazzi. He was looking for Quinn. Every street he went down, every coffee shop he stopped in, he was searching for her.
He came close once.
It was some sort of fashion week event. He was once again a guest of a guest and was milling about making conversation with people he would probably never see again when he caught sight of someone he actually wanted to talk to.
Maria, Quinn’s roommate. Did that mean Quinn was here too?
He ended the conversation and pushed his way through the crowd of people, until he reached her, a little out of breath.
“Maria?” he asked, though he was almost certain she remembered him. “It’s Harry.”
She looked at him, frozen in shock. “Hi,” she said slowly. “I’ll catch up with you later,” she added to the woman she’d been in conversation with. She turned back to Harry, but said nothing.
“How have you been?” he asked a little too earnestly.
“Good,” Maria replied uncertainly. “How about yourself?”
“Good, good. Is Quinn here?”
“No, just me.”
“How’s she been then?”
“Um, she’s fine.”
“Oh wow, yeah that’s great. What’s she been up to?” He hoped the real meaning of his question – Is she seeing anyone? – wasn’t as painfully obvious as it felt.
“Come here,” Maria said, pulling them towards an empty corner. She sighed and looked at Harry once they had some space from the crowd. “I feel weird about this, Harry. I’m not your biggest fan after what happened.”
“Yeah, I know I fucked up, but I –” He hesitated. “I’ve just been thinking about her and wanted to make sure she’s doing alright.”
“She is. She’s moved on and I suggest you do too.” Maria patted his shoulder gently. “It was nice to see you, Harry,” she murmured as she stepped around him.
He was stunned.
He called Jeffrey on the way back that night, wanting a sympathetic ear.
“I don’t know what you want me to say, H. It’s not that weird. People move on and you all didn’t end on the greatest of terms,” he said, voice tinny through the phone speaker. “You can’t expect her to be waiting around pining for you. Maybe you should take Maria’s advice. It could be good for you.”
Unsatisfied, he made his way through his contacts. His mom, his sister, Mitch, anyone he could think of that would side with him and tell him exactly what he wanted to hear. That Quinn hadn’t moved on, that she’d give him a second chance, that everything would be alright. At first, they all played along, willing to talk through the situation for the fortieth time, but soon patience wore thin. They told him to start thinking about other people, turn pain into art, but he still wanted to wallow. Which he did, until his inner circle gave him the wake-up call he’d been dreading: he needed to get over Quinn – quickly.
Which is how he wound up in Japan, hoping time alone would give him the clarity he’d been looking for and the motivation to leave Quinn and the feelings he still carried for her behind. But it hadn’t worked out that way as he’d spent every night since he arrived thinking about her.
He closed his eyes and took another deep breath. Maybe sleep would come now.
The cycle repeated itself night after night until a random Wednesday when he fell asleep and stayed asleep. When he woke the next morning his first thought wasn’t about Quinn – it was about what he wanted for breakfast. Slowly, day by day, the fog lifted until Quinn was just a tiny part of his daily thoughts. Combing her social media feeds and sending unanswered text messages became a weekly occurrence instead of a daily one. He was getting better. His friends – Jeffrey, Glenne, Kid, and others – had all noticed as they stopped by over the weeks and encouraged him to start writing again.
“Not sure I’m ready for that,” he mumbled into his cup of coffee.
One night though, about a week after his 25th birthday, a notification popped up on his phone. The Photos app was telling him he had a memory. These were usually stupid things, a screenshot had taken or a random picture of a plant, so he was curious to see what this one was about. He wasn’t prepared for the gut punch that followed.
The picture of him and Quinn. In bed.
Shit. That trip to visit her had been just about a year ago.
The feelings he’d been managing so well lately came rushing back and he bit his lip trying not to cry. Fuck. Just when he thought he was getting better.
His hand hovered above the Messages app.
He knew what he needed to do.
Hey man, he typed out to Kid. Want to meet up in the studio tomorrow? I think I’m finally ready to write about it.
***
A/N: Who doesn’t love an angsty flashback on a Sunday afternoon?? Seriously though, this has been sitting in my drafts since May. I really wanted to work this into the original story, but given that so much of it was set from Quinn’s POV it felt a little awkward to find a space for this section. Thank you for reading. There’s definitely more on the way for these two…hopefully the next extra won’t be so sad lol
talk to me! || story inspo
taglist: @rivercran @daydreaming-laur @oh-honey-styles @nevertoooldtodancelikeamaniac @tbslhrry @andwhenshesays @haute-romance-quotidienne @hslllot @luvonstyles @woody32271 @ambee789 @very-berry-harry @last-saturday-night @confusedbansheee @kakaym @daphnesutton @bableliketable @lauloupi @kkrenae @sing-me-a-song-harry @soup-sex-and-sun-salutations @sweetwanderlust05 @deepestsweetsarbiter @kahluamystery97 @thurhomish @honeybluebirds @daydreamingofmatilda @indierockgirrl @be-with-me-so-happily @a-strange-familiar @mleestiles @theekyliepage @b-reads-things @behindmygreyeyes
#harry styles fanfic#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles writing#harry styles blurb#harry styles fic#harry styles fan fiction#harry styles ff#harry styles series#harry styles x ofc#harry fic#harry styles fluff#harry styles smut#harry styles fan fic
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What do you think of people hating on LXC because he said wwx was lwj's only mistake? (Don't want to start flames but I want someone to support lxc's point of view in this because he's also valid)
I’m trying really hard to find a way to answer this without awaking the disk horse, let’s see if I can manage it.
Also anon I took forever to answer you and then proceeded to write way, way too much, so I’m doubly sorry!
I’m going to focus on the novel because I feel like LXC’s arc is much more nuanced (and therefore easier to misunderstand) in the novel.
From a meta standpoint, LXC plays a really interesting role a few times, which I’m sure has an actual name for people who study literature but I can’t think of it right now so I’ll call mentor-antagonist. He’s a mentor because he consistently guides WWX towards understanding LWJ - which, surprise surprise, it’s an important thing in a romance. But he’s an antagonist because he just as consistently puts himself in the role of LWJ’s protector. From the first time we meet him, all the way to Guanyin, LXC keeps saying with increasing clarity and frustration “This is how much my brother loves you - do you love him back just as much?” He informs WWX of what LWJ won’t say, but he puts a price to LWJ’s affection where LWJ actually puts none. LWJ is trying to say “I love you no matter what, even if you never love me back” but LXC keeps translating it to WWX as “LWJ’s love is entirely selfless, and what are you doing to deserve it?”
Even the very first time we meet him - who is LXC pointing out LWJ is in a good mood for? Maybe in-universe it’s just a passing comment, but as a reader, it’s hard not to think in hindsight that maybe introducing the guy who gatekeeps LWJ’s heart by having him say “You make LWJ unusually happy, and you’re literally screaming and crying to get away from him” miiiiiiight have future implications.
WWX is constantly shocked that LWJ can stand him, let alone love him, and LXC is almost an externalization of that. I mean, that’s an oversimplification, he has his own agenda and everything, but when LXC says “You don’t deserve my brother” and WWX answers back “I don’t care, I want him and I’ve always wanted him even when I deserved it even less than I do now” that feels like an incredible character moment because that is the thing WWX struggles with.
And I feel like that’s why people get so, so mad about this. WWX saying to JZX “You don’t deserve my sister” in every adaptation? lol yeah he’s right. But we’re meant to identify with WWX, and LXC is just (metaphorically) shouting every single one of WWX’s insecurities at him, and that’s very hurtful, even though we know LXC loves LWJ more than anything. So I feel that people take issue with this not because of LXC’s actual words, but because they feel the urge to protect WWX, which only shows what a great writer MXTX is.
As for why LXC would say this... well, why wouldn’t he? I mean, we Know how WWX feels and we also know the reasons behind his actions, but from an outsider’s perspective, all WWX has ever done in the novel (which is very different from the drama, and in the drama LXC is much warmer towards WWX as a consequence of that) is hurt LWJ over and over and over and over. If LWJ were my brother and I knew his love was as intense as it is, I’m not sure that I also wouldn’t be upset that someone seems to take advantage of it when it’s convenient and walk away when it’s not. LXC doesn’t have the benefit of seeing the ways in which WWX makes LWJ’s life better, but he’s always the one picking up the pieces after LWJ ends up heartbroken for the 4378492th time, so of course his idea of WWX skews towards the negative. And I mean... whenever he tells WWX to Do Better WWX misunderstands everything and Does Worse. Of course LXC is frustrated. It’s no one’s fault, it’s just that LXC doesn’t have all the info, nor does WWX. That’s kind of the theme of the novel.
Anyway, the tl;dr is that I don’t think people who hate on LXC for that moment can be convinced not to by being shown LXC’s POV, because the issue is, imho, about overidentifying with WWX and being understandably hurt when LXC says something hurtful. But I totally get that some people read romance with the purpose of projecting onto the main character, so I’m not about to say identification is bad or anything. I think (a lot of) these people engage with the novel in a way fundamentally different from the way I do,* so I’m not sure there’s much profit in trying to convert one another to The One Correct Interpretation.
* I don’t want to overgeneralize, though. It’s entirely possible to dislike LXC in general or in this moment for reasons other than this, this is just what seems most common in my experience, but it might not even be the most common attitude! But I can’t speak of what I have no experience with, so I’m limiting the scope to the circles of fandom I’m in.
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ohhhh in that case please tell me about ur fav poke gen and why :)
Predictably it’s Hoenn!!!
Ironically I completely missed Gen 3 when it was current though. (I was too busy with Yugioh and Tokyo Mew Mew as a kid but came right back to Pokemon as Drew let the door hit him on the way out and DP started, go figure 😔)
I think overall it just hits a perfect stride of building and improving upon the earlier generations but still having a strong sense of identity to it. For the games and the anime! For me, the Pokémon designs are a sweet spot of being creative and recognizable without being too simplistic or overdesigned. The region overall has a charming and laidback atmosphere to it that just fills me with love for the Nature and Possibilities.
And the battle frontier! Berries! contests! (Personally, I think Hoenn had a benefit in introducing contests because they just come off as an exciting new challenge For Everyone, where I feel some other gens contest-like things come across as a lesser, “girly” side quests. I guess like the vibe of a dog show vs a beauty pageant? It’s hard to explain. But knowing both forms of competition take skill and practice but there’s a big divide in how they’re marketed and perceived idk)
That sort of blends into why I like the AG characters too, May has such an amazing arc and is treated as a solid co-protagonist! Her rivals are all so interesting and surprisingly fleshed out in hindsight too! (but that could be the years of picking apart dialogue and individual frames talking lol) Overall I love the dynamic of May and Max and Ash and Brock. They’re a bit of a mess but so genuine and likable as a group 😭
Lots of truth in the trend that whatever gen you like best is probably the one when you were 8-11 years old but oh well! Hoenn has so much going for it, it’s always the top choice in my soul
#I feel like Drew got his own essay somewhat recent enough so I will be more Broad here#anon ask#I want to retire in Hoenn so bad…
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Book Review: Things We Never Got Over
Non Spoiler Section
Alright. I’m just going to dive right in here. I hated—absolutely hated this book...until page 490. I’m new here, so if you don’t know, allow me to explain: I like to jump into books blind. I had no idea what I was getting myself into or really what the story itself was going to be like. I only knew that it was a romance and it was trending and I was like, heard that. Sign me up. I wasn’t expecting to hate my characters for the majority of the book.
But hang on, peeps. Bear with me a moment. If you’re anything like me and you don’t have any patience with cliched and unlikable characters, please listen to me when I tell you this: EVERYTHING HERE HAPPENS FOR A REASON.
These characters are meant to have annoying characteristics because we are supposed to watch them as they develop into a better version of themselves. Don’t give up hope! Hang in there, okay?
Without someone to hold my hand and give out kind and gentle encouragement, Lucy Score had me ready to rip my damn hair out. I was saying stuff like, “I can’t wait to tear this book a new one”, “I hate this book”, “I’m only gonna finish it so I can throw tomatoes at it and boo it off the stage”, “What theme are we even trying to preach here, Lucy???”.
Then I got to the aforementioned page 490. Everything suddenly made sense and I felt like an idiot. Because of course this author knows what she’s doing. Of course these characters were going to change. I’m astounded by how little faith I had in this book. I’m honestly so disappointed in myself.
I’m telling you all this because this book is going to frustrate you. Make you scream. Make you want to punch someone in the face. But believe me when I say I’ve never had so much fun in my entire life.
And more importantly, this story has a message that I believe everyone can benefit from. 100000% recommend.
Don’t think. Just jump. You won’t regret it.
Spoiler Section
OH. MY. GOD.
When, I say I hated Knox Morgan, I am not exaggerating in the slightest. He was rude. Arrogant. The biggest ass I’d ever met in my life.
I never quite understood the whole morally gray, grumpy/sunshine thing, but that’s just my personal preference. What I really hated about him was his refusal to develop. Even as we watched him fall for Naomi, we watched him stay stagnant for more than 75% of the book. That was a ballsy move, Lucy. I mean, truly. I was ready to give up on him.
Don’t get me wrong, Naomi got on my nerves a hell of a lot too. The instant perfect-mother thing she switched on the second she met Waylay (literally the second) was so annoying. Like we found Waylay in the motel room and Naomi’s already giving her shit about her potty mouth. Like girl, if you don’t build some rapport first. Ugh, I’ve never rolled my eyes so hard before. But then I realized that was all part of her development and it made all the weird, awkward scenes with her and Way much more tolerable because I knew Naomi was going to learn something.
By the way, I think it’s worth saying that Waylay is the only reason I pushed through. I loved her instantly and I pushed myself to finish the book because I wanted to see her get a happy ending. Because by this point, I’ve already decided that I hated both Naomi and Knox. Without Waylay, I don’t think I would have finished this book, not gonna lie. Of course in hindsight, I can say the journey was worth it, but my god. I thought about quitting so many times.
Naomi’s and Knox’s relationship (or friends-with-benefits-ship) felt like a trauma response. Knox was so horrible to her, from the very beginning. I can forgive a little snarkiness and sarcasm for the sake of a romance novel, but he really wasn’t cutting her any slack. Personally, I don’t understand how she caught feelings for a man that antagonistic towards her.
Technically, Naomi even said it herself. She felt like she was making a hard turn from the perfect guy she was about to marry to the douche-y guy who claims she’s a pain in the ass, but continues to insert himself in all her business. He might be sexy and have that whole nothing-can-penetrate-this-wall thing going on, but he was constantly degrading Naomi and making her feel bad for second guessing and wanting to dissect things. But when he’s constantly playing hot and cold, saying he wants no attachments and then proceeding to do things that definitely create attachments, how could he blame Naomi for wanting an explanation??
And when he finally admitted his feelings to himself and broke up with her???
Y’all, I was pissed. I threw the book down, folded laundry, took a shower and painted my nails. And my heart was still pounding with rage.
And then for him to still act like such a demanding douchebag and accuse her of being irrational? Bro. Knox had officially put himself on my shit list. I had about a hundred pages left and I knew—I just knew that Lucy was going to somehow put these two back together for the sake of a happy ending knowing DAMN well that Knox is undeserving. He would buy her some stupid giant coffee or get her flowers or perform some other act of idiotic grovelling and Naomi would be just as stupid and take him back.
Then, I turn to page 490. And I realize that Lucy is not stupid. This ain’t her first rodeo. We were meant to hate Knox and Naomi’s relationship. It was meant to be toxic af. Knox opened up, but they were able to admit that they just wouldn’t work and then I finally realized the meaning of the title. There are just some things a person never gets over. And Knox’s fear of intimacy was one of them. At this point, I believed that the book would end without them getting together. That we weren’t going to reward shitty behavior
But then the unexpected happened. I’m actually kind of on the fence with the last fifty or so pages, but I mean it was fast paced and interesting in ways that I truly didn’t expect so I mean...that’s something I guess. Tina finally made her appearance and I was actually kind of glad she wasn’t just a straight up asshole. I mean, don’t get me wrong. She’s an asshole. But she’s not a to-hell-with-my-kid, I-don’t-give-a-crap-what-happens-to-her kind of mother. She still worries for Waylay’s safety it’s just a matter of she doesn’t really know how to keep her safe or how to stay away from settings that would put her in danger. It’s believable which is why I liked it.
Then Knox saves the day (because of course he does) and he finally gets the kick the ass he needed to acknowledge Naomi as more than a fuck-buddy. I don’t know, like as a reader I’m happy that they get the opportunity to try out a real and healthy relationship. But as someone who also knows a thing or two about storytelling and character development, I can’t help but think it was kind of a fast turnaround. Even if there had been more time in between that scene in the office where Knox talks about his dad and saving the girls, I think I would’ve been happier.
But all in all, with all the drama and the scares and the guns waving and evil twins evil twinning, I’m just so relieved that Naomi and Knox finally get a WIN. All that toxic relationship crap was honestly so exhausting and it really is a relief to see a happy ending.
And I have to commend any writer who’s capable of making me do a hard 180 like that. Even if I don’t agree with how the book ended, I still love these characters a hell of a lot more than when I started.
Well done, Lucy. Well done.
#book recs#book review#trending books#booktok#things we never got over#lucy score#Naomi Witt#Knox Morgan#grumpy/sunshine
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Mr. Morally Grey will see you now...
Not your typical Christian Grey- certainly not the awkward weirdo from the movie. But definitely one for the books (again, not the actual book- which was a world class waste of time and paper). It's been an eventful- well textually eventful- week thus far. What started as friendly banter somehow escalated into a full on flirting session that, obviously given my track record (and apparently his), ended in sexytimes over the phone... Ok, so obviously not as sexy as you'd like it to be.. But gahddaamn it was in fact still sexy.
Starting to realise that Mr. Morally Grey brings out colours in me, I hadn't realised I had. Now we both know it's all fun and games - except its all fun and games till someone loses an eye. And the way this game is going- someone will be losing an eye (most likely me).
Let me tell you a bit about Mr. Morally Grey. You might need to sit down for this one. So first impression was: funny, gentle, sweet all that blah. Cute too, but not the kinda stuff to get your panties wet. Next impression: sexy times. Dude sounds like a freak in the sheets (thank you, universe! I have indeed waited long enough- I will accept this apology from you). Whatever I throw he's willing to catch (in hindsight it was mostly just for the gram, it appears). So perhaps not as much a freak as we'd like to believe- trust men to always lead you on only to disappoint. What can I say? Guess I'll take what I can get- it's still better than nothing.
To continue...Then we talk- for God knows how long, and I learn that he's both smart and determined... Smart, driven and freaky? Oh mama! He hit that trifecta like Jason Momoa hitting some lucky woman's g-spot... (this is assuming Jason Momoa's dong is directly proportionate to his immaculately sculpted body. If not, drop the metaphor) I mean honey? That's it! In the immortal words of Nicki Minaj, “them panties comin’ off"!
I could think about his Ig messages and cum all day- although tbf I don't really get to that point unless I talk to him. When he talks- are the conversations always meaningful? Sometimes yes, but at other times they are the absolute divine combination of witty and sensible- and by the end of it, you could bet all the money in the bank, I'm ready to pounce on him and ride him hard over and over again. This is the most hot and bothered I've been over a dude I met online only a few days ago. I can only hope he can put his money where his mouth is- if we ever get that chance. Because let's be real- he's a man. And if there's one thing you can count on men to do- it's to disappoint.
He might most likely lose interest- you can only pretend like you're interested in these conversations for so long before you wanna take it from the screens to the sheets. And that won't and can't happen for at least another 5 months! Are we actually doing this waiting game? Did we agree to this? I mean, we are just kidding about this ownership thing right? Is it just something for the gram and not outside of it? I'm assuming it is- coz I doubt Mr. Grey is gonna wait 5 months without getting laid just because some bitch thousands of miles away told him she owns him (when they aren't in any sort of relationship)! I mean, I get the thrill behind it- but it makes no sense. Neither for him nor for me.
But more importantly, I've got alarms going off in my head. Sure, I know this is all pretend but for fuck's sake- he gets me so hot and bothered. it's like, I could have him fuck me all day and I'd still want more! I know I'm attracted to something about him, and you know I don't like being attracted to people I can't trust. I mean what do I even know about this guy? He's very secretive. Keeps his cards close to his chest- which, given his past experiences makes sense, but that only means I'll never know who he really is. I already know that whatever snippets I get are carefully coordinated to benefit him- I know because that's what I always do too. So then what's the big deal right? Yes, I have met my match. But not really- because I trust myself enough to know that I'm transparent with my intentions from the start and I would never willingly hurt or use another person. I don't know if the same can be said here. Why does all this matter if its just a flirty thing? Because even a flirty thing should be a hundred percent transparent- and this isn't. I have so many fucking questions, and alarms at his behaviour- like how defensive he gets when you ask him anything intimate or involving this "whatchamacallit". Why the defensiveness? It makes it difficult to ask questions and get a clear understanding of where everything stands. So it's not like what I've got with the others- I've known them for years, and we started off as friends and tbf I don't have mind games with them. These mind games were fun at first (and still are if the mood is right)- but now my overactive mind is dissecting this information and I'm feeling uncomfortable.
I've got my Nike's ready- to run at the first sign of manipulation or sus behaviour. No thank you! I got enough of that in the past- I'm moving forward or not moving at all- certainly not going back to those hellish days.
Anyway- when I called him morally grey- now you get what I meant. Ironically- I'm attracted to fucking morally grey! And the truth is- whichever fucking way this goes, ngl I wanna bang. Just fuck each others' brains out, at least once- to hopefully get me through the next 10 years of mediocre sexual encounters with selfish men who couldn't find the G-spot if you gave them a fucking map!
I guess when they say "He's morally grey, but what can I say? Grey's my favourite colour.." I now see myself there. Irl too, not just the books. Maybe it's time to face the facts- he maybe misogynistic but I'm clearly masochistic.
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You’re Not Buried, You’re Planted
If you struggle with depression and anxiety, it's no laughing matter, but sometimes you have to try to find the humor in it just to keep yourself somewhat sane.
Some days during the last couple of years, I suffered from such crippling depression that I couldn't even muster the strength to get out of bed. So I'd negotiate with my legs to slide off the bed and start doing the work to support me so I could make it to the bathroom.
"Just don't quit working halfway there," I'd tell my legs. There were a few times when I was sure they wouldn't listen.
And there have been days when my anxiety was so high that I thought I might burst through my front door, down the steps, and run through my neighborhood screaming incoherently.
Most of the time, the thought of doing so was enough to quell the desire within me, but not every time. My neighbors have no idea how close they came to experiencing my full-on freak-out.
I've spent my fair share of time in dark places regarding my struggles with depression, anxiety, and the like. And I've also realized that the battles I've fought are nothing compared to those many others are waging daily.
It's hard to understand why you are going through what you're going through when you are going through it. I know that sounds odd to say, but it's true. Sometimes it takes the benefit of hindsight to understand your struggles better.
I read this interesting quote by Christine Caine the other day, and I've been thinking about it ever since:
Sometimes when you are in a dark place, you think you've been buried, but actually you've been planted.
Now, if you think I'm saying that struggles with depression and anxiety are opportunities to grow, you're partly right. But we should be careful with this analogy because it's too easy to assume that God is somehow planting us in those dark places.
It's better to say we "get planted" without assigning an agent to the action. God doesn't cause all things, even as God is present in all things. God doesn't place us in dark places but can help us grow out of them and into the light.
We can grow out of those dark experiences as we get the help we need, the support we require, and the strength to rise out of the dirt. That's resurrection in action, friends, and God is still in the business of resurrection.
May you face your struggles today with a sense of anticipated victory and unparalleled peace. May you find your challenges as opportunities to burst forth from dark places and into eternal light.
And may the grace and peace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you now and always. Amen.
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What Is Love?
Pairing: Gojo x reader (Main), Nanami x reader (Side)
Genre/Warnings: Yandere, NSFW, Dub-Con/Non-Con, Rape, Sacrilegious, God Complex and Delusional Gojo, Somnophilia, Slapping, Choking, Humiliation, Coercion, Non-Con Infidelity
Summary: Gojo learns what love is and unfortunately, you're the object of his newfound affection.
A/N: Thank you as always for beta-ing @sawamooora and dedicating this to my dear @lets-go-datehoe. Thank you for sending this request, Yuli~
Love? Gojo Satoru doesn’t believe in love. Love is for hopeless, lonely souls. Love is for miserable pathetic wretches desperate to fill an emptiness in their hearts, in their lives.
When everyone in the world is already falling head over heels to serve him, to be with him, when he's given everything he's ever wanted and more on a silver platter, why would he need love?
Gojo Satoru is already at the top of the world, with or without love.
Now lust? Gojo understands lust.
Carnal pleasure is never unwelcomed and unlike his elders, his head isn’t shoved so far up his ass to deny that he adores the feeling of his cock inside a slobbering mouth, a sopping wet cunt, an exquisitely tight ass.
But more than that, his arrogance and ego thrives and swells as women throw themselves at him, the feeling of being desired only fueling the prideful monster inside of him, only fueling his borderline delusion.
Of course everyone wants him. He’s Gojo Satoru after all.
And so he lets himself be worshipped, lets woman after woman praise him, reveling in the way they chant his name like a prayer as he returns their devotion with thick sticky white blessings. He smirks at the way they kneel before him, staring up at him in reverence, their pretty mouths and throats stretched wide across his cock.
Gojo Satoru is a god, and gods do not chase after mere mortals. So when he meets and you barely give him the time of day other than a polite bow, he shrugs his shoulders.
You’re just another disbeliever. Another silly lamb he needs to convert. Nothing more. Nothing less. Definitely nothing to get worked up about.
It’s almost amusing how you’re playing hard to get, sinning by spitting such crude and crass remarks at a deity like him every time he tries to speak to you. And it’s almost infuriating how you turn your nose up at him, as if you’re qualified to have an opinion of him, let alone think of him as beneath you. But he hides the pleased smile on his face when he sees your gaze linger just a tad too long to be mere coincidence the first time he reveals his eyes to you, a look of awe slipping past your scowling countenance.
See? They all come around eventually.
And so he lays it on thicker, draping his tall figure over yours, letting his warm breath grace the back of your neck, murmuring coy words in your ear. His long fingers find themselves tangling in your hair, brushing against your hands, touching every part of you as much as he can get away with.
You’re so close. He can feel your walls slowly crumbling away, can see the unsureness in your eyes as you half heartedly nudge him away after unconsciously leaning into his touch. Just a little more…
Except something, or rather someone, stops him.
Gojo Satoru isn’t usually caught off guard, especially not by the likes of Nanami Kento. The ex-salary man is a good man, but just a man nonetheless, no matter how you dress it up. But Gojo grudgingly admits at least surprise, if not something more, when he hears you’re in Tokyo and decides to pay your apartment a visit, only to find the Grade 1 sorcerer’s tongue shoved down your throat, your naked bodies entangled in rumpled bed sheets.
He tells himself it’s just a one night stand...maybe a friends with benefits relationship at most when he happens to catch both of you holding hands in broad daylight, a carefree smile he’s never seen before stretched across Nanami’s face as he sits at a cafe table with you, watching you happily munch on some pastry his underclassman has purchased for you.
Nothing he can’t handle.
But if you were a bitch before, a snarling ferocious wildcat whenever Gojo was around, you’re even worse now. Your apathy, the nonchalance with which you politely smile and nod in acknowledgement at Gojo before promptly ignoring him for the suited man by your side, gets under his skin like nothing ever has before. For once, Gojo is at a loss.
Ahh, so this is what denial feels like. This is the rejection and emptiness that he’s seen drive others to madness. This is love.
Gojo Satoru experiences his first heartache, but he doesn’t break down into pitiful sobs, he doesn’t mope around in self-pity.
He laughs.
He’s lost the battle, but he hasn’t lost the war. And when others would have turned tail and fled, he stands his ground, icy blue eyes sparkling in glee at the prospect of a new challenge, the prospect of his sweetest victory yet.
Gojo Satoru is a dangerous man. You know that with all your heart and soul, so it only makes sense that your hackles raise anytime he’s in your proximity. Maybe you take it too far, disrespecting your senior to an extent that would bring shame to you if it were anyone other than the Special Grade sorcerer. But in hindsight you’ll wish you did more.
You’ll wish you hadn’t caught the attention of the world’s strongest sorcerer. You’ll wish you hadn’t found yourself mesmerized by his sheer power, by those damning, dazzling eyes. You’ll wish you hadn’t begun to be ensnared by his allure, a trap you’ve heard the consequences of far too often from your heartbroken and weeping fellow female sorcerers. Maybe you’ll even wish you had just let him have a taste of you, use you before tossing you out like trash, like every other woman who’s fallen in bed with him, instead of whetting his appetite only to deny him of his feast, only to have him fixate on you even more.
But like Gojo, you know love and lust are two different things. And when Nanami shows up in your life, like a knight in shining armor, you feel Gojo’s spell on you shatter, your heart fluttering and thawing the ice that had begun to creep up your body, trapping you in endless blue.
Love is blinding, and really, you should have known that normal boundaries don’t exist in Gojo’s world. But your adoration for your lover has you hesitantly, but politely, letting the cheerful sorcerer into your shared home with Nanami — even though your boyfriend is overseas for a mission, not due back for at least another week.
It would be a lie to say you’re completely relaxed and fine with the circumstance you’re in, alone with Gojo Satoru with no chance of anyone being able to help you if something were to happen. But for whatever reason, Nanami respects the man, even considers him a friend, and in turn you feel an obligation of sorts to at least be cordial. And besides, Gojo isn’t a good man, but he’s not a bad man…right?
You find it difficult to believe that Gojo didn’t know Nanami was out of town, that his pout is sincere when you tell him that Nanami won’t be back anytime soon. There are only so many Grade 1 sorcerers in Tokyo and even less that Gojo actively keeps in touch with. But what’s the alternative? Believe Gojo came to see you? Unlikely.
Gojo is a womanizer, a slut, whatever other word you want to use. But a homewrecker? Especially of a dear friend? Never. (Frankly, you think it would just be too much of a bother for the emotionally stunted man.)
And you’re glad to see that your theories are proving to be true as the night continues, wondering if maybe the white-haired man is just lonely.
He’s strangely pleasant as he keeps a respectable distance from you, no suggestive comments spewing from his mouth, even his obnoxious arrogance kept to a tolerable low. You feel your guard drop, your smiles feeling more natural, genuine laughs slipping past your lips as he tells you about his latest adventures and missions.
But as a yawn interrupts your conversation and you stare askance at how late it is before urging him home to get some rest, apologizing for keeping him so long, your heart drops as you feel an overwhelming presence caging you against your living room couch, long limbs on either side of your body.
“What do you see in Nanami that you don’t see in me?”
The question is so jarring you almost forget the panic rising in your chest, mouth moving soundlessly as you try to process the meaning of his words. But instead of an answer, all that bubbles out of you is a shaky plea for him to leave.
Gojo’s never been good at following orders or commands. Why would he be? Since when has a god ever needed to listen to mortals? And you’re no exception.
You whimper as you’re suddenly transported to the bedroom you share with Nanami, struggling to no avail as Gojo easily tears your clothing off, positioning you on all fours in front of the floor-length mirror that decorates the corner of the room. Bile rises in your throat as he takes his blindfold off, blue eyes seemingly piercing your soul even through just a reflection and you squeeze your eyes shut, trying to imagine you’re anywhere but here, with anyone other than him, trying to grasp at every fond memory you have of your blonde lover. But Gojo has a point to make and you gasp, eyes snapping wide open as a large hand wraps around your neck, choking you until you’re forced to stare at your joined bodies on the mirrored surface.
“Look at how perfect we are together. Look at how perfect you are underneath me. You chose that instead of this?”
You sob when he twists your head and forces you to look at a framed photograph on your vanity, a photo Nanami and you had taken together when he had brought you overseas with him for a mission.You regret not insisting that you go with him this time around, wishing more than anything else that you were wrapped in his strong arms.
There’s something irritating about your wailing and blubbering, your little hiccups and sniveling only fueling something dark and twisted inside of Gojo. Maybe it’s the way he knows that you’d never act like this if he was Nanami. Maybe it’s the way he knows you’re lust incarnate whenever Nanami has his hands or mouth on you. Maybe it’s the way he knows that you despise him and his touch so much, that you’d rather die than let him have you.
Ungrateful bitch.
Well if you’re going to cry, Gojo might as well give you something to cry about. A crazed grin slices his handsome face as your screams reach an all-time high, a frenzy, as he shoves his cock inside your unprepped hole, his shaft twitching in interest when you desperately wail his name over and over again as if that would do anything other than have him intensify his pace. But as pretty as his name sounds from your mouth, he tires of your useless pleas for him to stop. Gojo uses one hand to shove your face into the floor, your garbled cries muffled by the carpet as he chases his end, moaning at how perfect your tight, gummy walls feel around him. He’s dreamt of this for far too long and with a grunt, he cums inside of you, draping over your body and pressing his lips against the back of your neck, affectionately marking and tasting you as he empties his balls.
Through the pain and shame, relief floods through you, hope that this is finally all over, that he’ll leave you and your battered body alone. And you play dead, letting him do as he pleases, only occasionally wincing when he leaves a particularly intense mark on your skin, momentarily cringing when he pulls out, thick liquid trickling from your abused hole.
But you should have known better, should have known this was just the beginning.
You weakly paw at the strong arms easily cradling your exhausted figure, trying to wriggle as much as your aching body allows you to, sobbing into his shoulder when you see the direction you’re headed in. You wonder how it’s possible to feel even dirtier as calloused hands lather you with soapy suds, as Gojo takes his time scanning every inch of your body, intimately caressing and mapping every line and curve. And you plead for forgiveness from Nanami when slick begins to pool between your legs, as Gojo gently kneads and experiments with your breasts, rolling your nipples, long fingers expertly circling your clit and slipping inside of you.
Your orgasm shatters you and you stand there like a rag doll, body convulsing and eyes rolling back in your head as you drench Gojo’s digits with your arousal, the sticky strands of betrayal staining his hand as he brings it to your mouth. He gently peppers your neck and shoulder with encouraging kisses as you submissively suck him clean, tugging you along as he dries you off before tucking the both of you in bed, holding you in the mockery of a lover’s embrace. It doesn’t escape your notice that he’s chosen to sleep on Nanami’s side of the bed and shame has you curling into a fetal position, has you burying your face in the bedsheets, hoping for at least a whiff of Nanami’s familiar scent, a reminder of his presence.
It works, and you let yourself fall into a restless sleep, your lips twitching every so slightly upwards despite the tears still trapped in your lashes as you think of a tall blonde man, a yellow spotted tie wrapped around your hands as you teasingly pull a spectacled face in for a kiss. You writhe and twist in your sleep, heavily panting as you imagine Nanami’s hands roaming on your figure, his lips tenderly kissing a bold line down your neck and in between the valleys of your breasts. And as you imagine his fingers carefully rubbing your clit, you sigh his name, only to be abruptly woken as a lance of pain shreds through you.
Eyelids still heavy with sleep, body still groggy from being so suddenly roused, you can’t piece together what’s happening, one of your hands instinctively cupping your smarting cheek. But you frantically claw and bat in the dark, knowing exactly who’s on top of you despite the fact that your eyes haven’t fully adjusted to the blackness, the way your body is ripped apart once more, a telltale sign of whose cock is penetrating you.
“It’s very rude to say another man’s name when I’m the one making you feel so good. Let me teach you the only name you need to know."
There’s something horribly intimate about the position you two are in, the way he’s tainting the very sheets and mattress Nanami had made love to you on countless times. You wish you could force yourself back to sleep, could gouge out your eyes as you begin to make out the man pistoning in and out of you. But it’s no use and you know even sightless, those icy blue orbs are branded in your mind.
You vow to at least not give him the satisfaction of hearing his name from your mouth, pressing and biting your lips until a copper taste assaults your tastebuds. But Gojo has always been talented at everything he does, those gifted eyes seeing far more than they should. You shake your head side to side in denial as a knot quickly begins to form in your gut, body tensing as you feel another wave coming over you, only to let out a confused whimper when everything suddenly stops.
“You get to cum when you say my name and the magic word.”
The playful lilt and childish tone have you seeing red and you sneer in twisted pleasure when a gob of your spit hits him squarely in the face, a litany of curse words and insults spewing from deep inside of you, uncaring of how you’re more like a raving madwoman than a victim.
But you’re not the first brat Gojo’s had to tame, and he just smirks condescendingly down at you before playing you like an instrument, easily bringing you to that narrow brink where even a single breath of air, or a simple flick of a finger seems like it would have you toppling over the edge, only to relentlessly snatch you right back before you can fall.
You don’t know how long he goes on for, your shattered and denied mind barely cognizant of the beginnings of daylight creeping through the window. But as the rays of light make it to your bed, you break.
“Gojo-”
You howl when he pulls out, hips wantonly thrusting in the air for more friction as he crudely slaps his tip against your clit, a frown on his lips.
“That’s not the name I want to hear.”
You shouldn’t. You really shouldn’t. Where’s your fucking backbone? How could you even entertain the idea of screaming another man’s name in your lover’s bed?
But when he steps away, your eyes zero in on how his cock separates from the sopping wet mess between your thighs, an unbidding distressed whine clawing up your throat at the thought of being left high and dry, mind hazy with lust and arousal.
“Sa-Satoru…Satoru, please.”
There’s work to be done and he’s not entirely pleased by the note of hesitancy and reluctance he still hears despite the hours he’s taken out of his time to educate you. But a promise is a promise and fuck if he doesn’t love the way his given name sounds in your mouth. And with just a few more meticulously placed thrusts and practiced twists of his fingers, you come undone, your lewd sex-crazed appearance and dopey smile from finally getting your sweet release dragging him down with you.
But it doesn’t end there and Gojo makes good use of your empty house, of the week he has alone with you.
There’s not a single surface in your home, not a single hole on your body that isn’t used and marked thoroughly. And even he briefly wonders if he’s being too rough with you, a flicker of concern crossing his mind as he pouts at the idea of his new toy breaking so soon.
But you prove your resilience and a strange concoction of pride and irritation festers inside of him as you determinedly clamp your mouth shut, a spark of defiance lighting up those lust-clouded eyes whenever he urges you to say you love him back, despite the way you practically ride and hump his face as he kneels between your legs and eats you out in the kitchen, despite the way you slur and babble his name over and over again like it’s the only thing you know how to say.
You’re adorable and he wishes he had all the time in the world to break you fully without using his trump card, to see just how durable you really are. But time is ticking and Nanami is due back any day now.
“Say you love me.”
He coaxes you by gently holding you in his arms, peppering your face with butterfly kisses, endearingly observing the way you seek the little comfort you can get despite the fact that he’s the giver, so deprived of anything other than frenzied arousal. But steely resolve hardens your eyes and you turn your face away.
“I love Nanami.”
You brace yourself for a cock slamming inside of you, a hand wrapped around your throat, but you aren’t ready for the endless galaxy that suddenly surrounds you, and blood-curling fear washes over you.
Unlimited Void.
You’d have to be living under a rock not to know of it, and yet, seeing it in person, you can safely say the rumors and tales don’t do it justice. Gojo laughs at how you frantically cling onto him, your arms wrapping around him, your face burying itself into his chest, voice trembling as you beg him to release you, beg him to get rid of his domain expansion, beg him not to let you go. You’ve seen the aftermaths of his technique, seen curses and sorcerers much stronger than yourself reduced to brain-dead husks from mere seconds in his domain.
“Say you love me.”
The words are on the tip of your tongue, fear making you docile. But a flash of blonde, a glimpse of a tailored suit in your mind keeps your saving grace stuck in your throat. You tell yourself it’s okay, you don’t mean it, it’s just a means to save yourself, surely Nanami will understand. And you begin to open your mouth, only to break off in a scream as you’re roughly shoved away, your hesitation speaking volumes to the white-haired sorcerer who sighs in irritation.
Not that you really notice or maybe you notice too well. You aren’t sure. You are sure. You can feel your sanity rapidly slipping as everything and nothing slams into your senses at once.
“Satoru, I love you!!”
It’s barely comprehensible, a shrieked frantic wail muddied by anxiety. But it’s enough and you sob in relief when Gojo ruffles your hair like you’re a well-behaved pet, leaning into his touch and digging your nails into his wrist, keeping his contact on you still and steady, dry heaving as you come back to your senses.
You don’t even realize that the repeated mantra is still coming out of your own mouth as you fling yourself onto the sorcerer as his artificial universe fades away, curling up in his lap, heart pounding as you chant “I love you, I love you, I love you” over and over again like it’s your holy scripture.
Gojo is on cloud nine watching you finally come to faith, finally worship him and praise him. You were lost, and now you’re found. And he has no intentions of ever letting you stray again. It’s not like there’s anywhere else for you to go, anything else for you to do other than warm his cock anyway.
He crashes his lips against yours as he easily slips inside your well-used cunt, walls molded and shaped perfectly after countless rounds. It’s sinful how good you feel, how good you sound, and he can feel his balls tighten, his own end quickly approaching as you shatter to pieces over and over again around him, quivering walls milking him, clamping down on him as if you can’t bear the thought of being empty.
But there’s nothing to worry about. What god would leave his faithful disciple unrewarded? What declaration of faith comes without a baptism? And he cums inside of you, hot spurts filling you up, branding you, marking and claiming you as his, the sticky white trails leaking out of your stuffed cunt a public declaration of who you belong to.
There’s silence as he lets you collapse on top of him, grinning at how blissfully fucked out you look, cock already twitching in interest again as he spies the mess of tears and drool dripping down your chin. But there are matters of business to attend to first and he nudges you to look at him, cooing down at vacant eyes still hazy with pleasure.
“Nanami is returning tomorrow-”
Blinding pain shocks you as a large hand tangles with your roots, pulling your head back so far you think your neck might snap.
“What are you so happy about?”
There’s a lightness to his question, the silence before the storm, and you wipe the smile off your face, hissing as he tugs harder.
“I know you like me more, but I didn’t think you would be heartless enough to be so excited about breaking up with your boyfriend. Poor Nanami.”
Even through the pain, the unspoken weight of his words registers in your head and you snarl at him with a vengeance.
“I’m not breaking up with-”
Your throat goes dry as he relinquishes his hold on you, one hand raising to eye-level, pointer and middle fingers beginning to cross, and you go still, mouth snapping shut.
“Good girl. Now you’ve experienced Unlimited Void for yourself. What do you think would happen to Nanami if I left him in there for even a second? Do you think he’d ever be the same even if he were to somehow survive, even if he were to go through months of rehabilitation?”
The inquisitive tone makes it sound like just a bunch of theoretical questions, but you know better, know the ramble for the threat that it is.
Love is about sacrifice, and you’re willing to give it all up for the man whose contact Gojo is pulling up on your phone, whose number is being called. And as the ringtones finally stop and a familiar voice greets you over the speaker, you seal your fate.
#yandere jjk#yandere jujutsu kaisen#yandere gojo#gojo x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#jjk smut#gojo smut#tw: noncon#tw: rape#tw: somnophilia#tw: yandere
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Honeybee
Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader
Summary: While attending Seraphina's wedding, Y/N discovers that her crush on her best friend’s older brother hasn’t gone away after all these years.
Category: SMUT (18+)
Content: Strong language, alcohol consumption, fingering, penetrative/protected sex
Word Count: 5.7k
MASTERLIST
NOTE: I know I promised a oneshot over the weekend, but I’m a messy, inconsistent bitch, so you get it a day late 😅🥰
———
Looking back, I was starting to wonder if Seraphina only got engaged and asked me to be her maid of honor just to witness my slow descent into a heaping puddle of lovesick mush.
Truly, it was pathetic.
Yeah, yeah, she was getting married because she loved her fiancé and whatever, obviously, but she was also using it as an excuse to try and get me to admit my feelings for her older brother. Feelings, I might add, that only surfaced when I was a middle schooler and went away once he went off to college.
Sure, I'd thought about him on occasion when he was inevitably brought up around Sera's house throughout the years, but that was it. I'd hardly say I was hard-core in love with him. And I was totally prepared to see him for the first time since our high school graduation.
At least, I thought I was.
And Seraphina—the little shit—knew it, too. The smirk on her face the moment we were all in the same room for the first time in ten years made me want to run and hide more than her brother's figure, right in front of me and hotter than ever.
I was mad. Not at Sera as much, because really there was nothing she could do about the fact that he was her brother, but I was mad at myself. Because how in the hell had it stood to reason that a man I actively didn't think about for a whole decade had this much of an effect on me after all this time?
Honestly? I blame the FBI.
If he'd done literally anything else with his life I probably could have made it. Well, not by much if we're being honest, but come on...
Where he'd been a bit nerdy and reserved as I knew him, the man in front of me had clearly changed. Not just physically, though that was also a pleasant surprise. He looked like he'd been through some shit... And he carried himself taller. There was a new air of confidence that perched on his shoulder and helped him along as he talked with old friends and family members at his sister's rehearsal dinner.
Spencer Reid was older and more experienced this time around, and somehow even more goddamn delicious...
I was a total wreck. And it was about to get a whole lot worse.
He was coming this way. Right for me. He'd noticed me staring at him all night, because I couldn't keep my shit together, and now I was absolutely doomed.
Guess it was a good thing I'd practically grown up with him and knew how to act outwardly.
Still, the moment he was up close and flashing me that little smile of his, I felt the pit of my stomach scream out loud, sending shockwaves through my bloodstream.
"Hey, Honeybee. It's been a while."
Fuck. That fucking nickname...
"Spencer... It has."
When we hugged briefly, I tried as hard as I could not to inhale his scent, knowing that not only was that pathetic and embarrassing, but also I'd never stop smelling it otherwise. I did take note, though, of how strong he was now. He wasn't a bodybuilder of any kind, but he was certainly less bony and more defined.
I had to hold back a whine as I felt him let go of me, because I didn't want to leave his warm embrace but also because I didn't think I could stand to look at his face anymore without losing any and all semblance of my cool.
Still, I let him release me, and even then he didn't go far. We only stood inches apart, and my whole body was practically numb at the proximity. It also didn't help that I had to tilt my head up to see his face— It made me feel extremely submissive, and I could already feel myself starting to shrink.
Whether he was amused at that or just at me in general, the feeling I got was the same.
"Sera tells me you've been busy..." He paused, seemingly searching for the right word, though I could tell he already had it on the tip of his tongue. "Modeling?"
I closed my eyes with a sigh. "It was one job for some obscure European magazine, no one in the country's probably ever heard of it... It's not that big of a deal."
Spencer huffed a laugh. "You sound embarrassed..."
How was I supposed to respond to that? If I lied and told him I wasn't embarrassed, he'd figure it out, and if I told him the truth? I'd still be screwed. Honestly, my best bet was changing the subject.
Though, maybe it wasn't— When I asked him about his travels for work, he ignored it and responded with, "Ah, so you are embarrassed."
"N— I am not!"
"You changed the subject so fast I barely had time to blink... There's nothing to be ashamed of, Honeybee, I don't know why you'd—"
"Look, dude, I'm not ashamed, and I'm certainly not changing the subject. We were on the subject of jobs. So there."
I was aware of how childish I sounded, but I stood my ground nonetheless. And thankfully Spencer seemed to let it go, though not without amplifying that amused sparkle in his eye.
"Okay... Well, I've got some more people to see, but, uh... I'll see you around. Maybe you can show me some of your work."
He didn't even give me time to protest. Though if he had, I was sure I wouldn't have been able to get any words out what with that goddamned face he had, twisted and sculpted into all these beautiful ways that were designed specifically to make me a blubbering hot mess.
I could only gather the courage to nod in response, though he'd turned his back and walked away by the time I got it out.
———
All things considered, I'd managed to avoid him for the majority of the wedding festivities. I focused all my energy on being happy to see my best friend get married, and likewise it seemed that Spencer was inclined to do the same.
He walked his sister down the aisle, and seeing them both so happy truly made my heart sing. To think I'd known them since we were all kids more or less, and now they were both successful, beautiful human beings... It warmed me to my core, and despite the other flames that stung my insides at seeing Spencer in his tux, thing were going swimmingly.
That being said, we were just about two hours into the reception, and there was absolutely nothing stopping me from begging Seraphina to put me out of my misery.
Except maybe pints upon pints of alcohol.
In hindsight, that may not have been a good idea, though. Because as much as the open bar had it benefits, it also hated me. It was mostly my fault, because I was stupid enough to forget that I get frisky when I'm drunk, but that didn't stop me from blaming the bartender for continuing to serve me.
I wasn't quite at the point of all-out inebriation, but I was definitely toeing the line between tipsy flirting and total disaster.
And when Spencer came over to ask me to dance, I knew I was doomed.
I didn't find myself caring about what he was saying, only the fact that he was there, in front of me, putting his hands on me and breathing in the same air that I was putting out. My entire body buzzed, and while I would have panicked otherwise, my tipsy brain welcomed the tingle and made me a bit bolder.
"You enjoying yourself tonight?" he asked, like he couldn't already tell that I was having the time of my life.
"No way. You suck at dancing." The joke rolled off my tongue with ease, a product of years spent teasing him for countless things.
And just like all those times before, he rolled his eyes and then immediately flashed an affectionate smile all the same.
I should have stopped there, maybe tried to do something a bit more romantic like teach him how to dance... Placing his hands and fixing his posture, taking the time to gracefully have an excuse for exploring his body with my hands...
But romance took a backseat when I pressed myself in even closer to him and hummed just under his jawline. "Mmm, but I bet you're good at other things..."
I felt his hands grip my waist just a little tighter, and his throat visibly twitched. "How much have you had to drink, Honeybee?"
"Spencer," I whined, pressing my face into his neck. "Don't tell me you're turning me down, please..."
I could tell by the way he was touching me, his hands wavering and undecided, and the way his heartbeat thrummed loudly and quickly against my own that he wanted nothing more than to entertain my desires.
The thought made me quiver and press further into him. I kissed his jawline tenderly, silently begging him to whisk me away and finally make me his, but it broke my heart a little to feel him peel away from me.
When he looked into my eyes though, I swore the gleam in his own is what put me back together. It could have been the liquor swimming around in my body that made me feel lightheaded, but when Spencer lifted my chin with his fingers and looked me over, I knew that wasn't it. It was wholeheartedly, without a doubt, him.
"Tell you what... You get sobered up by the end of the night, and maybe I'll come find you."
I wanted to nod, but his gentle grip on my chin held me steady—At least until he glided his fingertips down my throat and over my shoulder. Then I downright slumped forward with a whine and a weak nod that seemed to make him smile.
"Thank you for the dance," he said earnestly, leaning forward to press the lightest of kisses to my temple.
Just like that he was gone, and I wanted him back almost immediately.
———
And so the night dragged on, and the longer I sobered up the more it dawned on me what the fuck just happened— What the fuck was going to happen, too, if I played my cards right.
It didn't help that I could practically feel Spencer's eyes on me the whole time. Probably to make sure I really wasn't drinking anymore, a fact that only made this feel more real.
On top of it all, I was starting to lose count of the amount of men here who were trying to buy me drinks. Even if the one man I really wanted tonight hadn't given me a deal, I still wouldn't have accepted them, if only for the pathetic fact that I would have been trying to catch his attention instead.
So much for trying to convince myself I wasn't in love with him...
Was that really what it was? It had to be, right?
Either way, I was determined to find out, and that meant declining every flirtatious offer to drink and dance.
Unfortunately, Seraphina seemed to notice, even on the one day in her entire life she shouldn't have been thinking about anyone but herself. "You're not having fun," she pouted, plopping down next to me and handing me a shot. "Have fun."
I laughed and set the tiny glass down on the table. "I am having fun, I'm just... tired. And being hungover tomorrow does not sound fun."
"Mmm," she responded, visibly suspicious.
I didn't really know what to say to her to convince her not to be though, so I grabbed her hand and smiled. "You're having fun though, right? 'Cause I will not hesitate to kick someone's ass if you're not."
With a bellowing laugh mildly tainted with the smell of champagne, Seraphina squeezed my hand and leaned in close. "I'm having the best time. I couldn't be happier."
"Well, good. You deserve it."
After a small moment of silent shared smiles, my best friend glanced over elsewhere and then back to me with that look in her eye that kind of scared me.
And her words were even scarier... "So, you talk to Spencer at all tonight?"
"Uh— Yeah... Briefly."
"Mhmm... Y'know, I saw you two dancing together earlier. You seemed reeeally close..."
There I was, getting defensive in front of a Reid sibling for the second time that night. And just like before, I was awful at being subtle. "Sera, stop it! It was just a dance..."
"Bullshit! He had his hands all over you, and he had that gross-ass, dreamy-ass look in his eye! He so wants to sleep with you!"
"Sera!" I gently shoved her and tried not to smile at the goofy smile she had plastered on her face.
"Am I wrong?"
"I... I don't..."
"Ha! I'm not wrong!"
The defeated look in my eye did nothing to disconfirm her story.
"So, what's stopping you from letting him?"
I went wide-eyed. "Se—You... You seriously would... You're okay with this? It doesn't... gross you out?"
There were a lot of things I could have seen Seraphina do in that moment, but pinching and yelling at me were not any of them. "Y/N! You idiot! I've been trying to get you two together for years! If I knew all it took was me getting married, I would have accepted Theo Decker's proposal..."
"Wa— In fifth grade? Sera, that wasn't—"
"I know, but you get what I mean! You two are so painfully attracted to each other, it physically hurts me. It's actually disgusting, but if it means there's a chance that you might get to be my sister? I say go for it."
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "You... You really mean that?"
"What, you think I'd joke about that?"
Everything that she conveyed to me within the look in her eyes, her words, and the squeezing of her hand over mine told me she was sincere.
"I love you, you know," I told her just as sincerely.
Her smile was as radiant as ever, but the teasing tone in her voice was enough to make me scowl again. "Right back at'cha, Honeybee. Just do me a favor and don't tell me any details. I don't wanna know."
I stuck my tongue out at her, followed by a short shove. "Oh, and as soon as you get back from your honeymoon? I'm kicking your ass for telling him about that nude shoot I did for that magazine..."
She only grinned. "Why? I think I did you a favor..."
I rolled my eyes at her, but in the end, I guess she was right.
———
I shouldn't have been pacing. Really, it was pretty fucking embarrassing the way I walked in circles around my hotel room, waiting for a knock at the door or a text message on my phone, or something to let me know that Spencer had really meant what he said and was on his way to come find me.
I didn't have a single drink after we danced, and I swear to God, if he made me go through this entire night all nervous without the liquor to calm me down, for nothing? I was going to kill him tomorrow.
Later today... Whatever.
The point? I was well and truly ready to feel him taking up my personal space, and I was going to feel like a real idiot if I waited around and prepped and everything, only for him not to show. The funny thing was, it was almost two in the morning, and I would have stayed up until the sun rose for him.
Thank God he had the decency to save me the trouble.
A short two-rap knock on the door made me jump, but I ran at it full-speed, flinging the large wooden panel open and letting its momentum blow cool wind over my body. And I needed it, too.
Because standing right in front of me was Spencer Reid in all his semi-exhausted glory. His outfit was loosened, buttons undone and bowtie untied, hanging limp around his neck. His hair sat wild atop his head and a thin layer of sweat coated his skin. Maybe that last part sounded gross, but looking at him? It was anything but.
Especially when he flashed me that damned smirk. "Someone's eager..."
I tried not to sound as dumbfounded by his presence as I felt. "Well, you made me a good offer I couldn't refuse. Excuse me for being excited."
"And here I thought all this time you hated me, Honeybee..."
"That would be easier, wouldn't it?"
His grin transformed into a full-on beaming smile then, and it only made my skin feel warmer and my heart beat faster. I returned his smile with my own, so genuinely happy to see him again after all this time, and with the brightest show of happiness I'd ever seen.
Turns out, smiling like a lovesick idiot was all I was capable of.
"Are you... gonna let me in?"
The low suggestive tone in his voice had me springing into action, stepping back and allowing him the space to come in. And though he had plenty of room, Spencer still decided to brush his body over mine as he passed. His eyes bore into my own as he gently kicked the door shut and enveloped us in a dimness that came from cheap hotel lighting.
Still, I was unable to speak, and hardly able to even breathe, with each passing second.
And then, his hands were on my waist, pulling me to him with a softness that matched the whisper in his throat as he said, "C'mere..." Looking up at him then, his fingers burning holes through the thin fabric of my dress while he looked back down me, eyes swimming in tender desire... It almost didn't even feel real.
And it certainly didn't feel real when he leaned in, one of his hands coming up to touch my face while the other pressed me firmly against him.
The moment his lips touched mine, I was gone. I positively melted into him, so much so that it felt like I was just becoming a part of him entirely, losing myself in the moment and unwilling to let it go.
Even when he sighed against my lips and parted his own to kiss me deeper, I just followed suit and let him take the lead. We moved together as one, fluidly and with as much eagerness was possible. I'd wanted to get a taste of him for so long, and he obviously felt the same way, what with the thorough and precise exploring his tongue did with my own. It shot warmth throughout my whole being, and my legs threatened to buckle underneath me from how weak they felt.
Spencer seemed to understand what was happening to me, because as soon as I'd thought it, he was just as quick to literally sweep me off my feet, scooping me up bridal style and carrying me over to the large bed in the middle of the room.
"I know we're at a wedding and all, but geez," I laughed, watching as he laid me down gently and crawled over my body. "A little much?"
He only rolled his eyes. "Well, excuse me for trying to be romantic..."
"Mmm, I think you're just being an overachiever. As per usual."
That remark earned me a pinning of my wrists above my head, and the fire that erupted in my very core at my current position only cemented that this was very real.
Spencer grinned, his hips coming down to roll over mine teasingly. He spoke nice and slowly, his voice slicing through my soul like smooth butter. "Oh, Honeybee, I'll show you an overachiever..."
Once again I was rendered speechless. Not like I expected to be talking his ear off or anything, but words genuinely escaped me.
Luckily, Spencer didn't seem to mind. In fact, he knew exactly what to do next, and it made me even hungrier for him than ever before.
He captured my lips in another dizzying kiss, his hands still flexing over my wrists to keep them steady. I moaned softly and writhed against him, and though I would have liked to say that it was a conscious choice to coax him to give me more, really it was just me being unable to handle the fact that this was actually happening.
Actually, if not for the overwhelming and familiar scent of him, I would have thought I was only imagining it.
But alas, here he was in all his floral peppermint glory, grinding his hips down into mine and kissing me like I'd never been kissed before, driving me mad with each adept movement.
Thankfully he seemed to get as lost in the moment as I was, because he loosened my wrists in his grip, and I broke free, flying my hands in between us and down to his belt.
His lips pulled away from mine with a soft smack, a smile forming smugly upon them. "Have you no patience?"
As my fingers fumbled with the metal and leather, I pressed my nose to his and quickly pecked his mouth. "I thought we already established that I have no patience the moment I opened the door..."
"Fair... But still..."
Spencer grabbed my hands again, moving them to my sides and then hiking my dress up slowly. His skin was hot against my own, and it took everything I had not to break down begging for him.
And then he spoke again, his lips barely grazing mine as he did. "Teasing you is so much fun..."
I couldn't really explain what sound escaped me then, but it reminded me of a disgruntled animal, erupting from my throat and getting muffled the moment I took my hands and brought his face to mine. I kissed him fervently as his hands matched the intense nature of my affections— With every soft groan I gave him, he returned it with an inch higher up my leg, until eventually he was toying with the hem of my underwear.
Unable to take it anymore, I gave in and mumbled the most desperate plea I could think of. (Like I had to think that hard...)
"Spencer, please..."
I half expected him to tease me again, but this time I felt him tremble over my body. His fingers slipped under the satin of my underwear and he sighed into my mouth. "God, how could I ever say no to you..."
No sooner had the words left his mouth did he spread me apart with his fingertips, getting a feel for me and a broken sigh falling from his tongue and onto my own. I captured it and kissed him with as much precision as I could while under the influence of his hands working wonders.
Truly, his hands hand a magic of their own that should have been considered as an eighth Wonder of the World. They flexed in all the right places, splitting me open and caressing the most sensitive parts of me, simultaneously breaking me apart and putting me back together...
God, and those was only his hands...
The thought of what else he had waiting for me made me cry out into his mouth, though I'm sure it also had to do with the fact that his fingers were curling expertly inside me and summoning an orgasm that I knew would satisfy us both.
I almost cried out again when his lips left mine, but then they travelled to my neck and paid it the most glorious attention. The alternation of his fingers and his tongue on different spots of my body had me in shambles, and it took no longer than a few seconds to snap.
"Fuck, that's my girl," Spencer grumbled into my neck, helping me through my orgasm. "That's it, honey..."
What I wouldn't have given to hear him talk to me like that until the end of time... His words, their tone and praise seeping into my skin and bringing my soul to life... Coupled with his soft hands and his even softer breath fanning over my neck, I was just about ready to ask him to keep talking to me, to say my name and never stop.
He pulled away though, removing his hand from my lower half and bringing it up to his mouth, and I had the feeling my request wouldn't be a problem.
Spencer's eyes rolled back and his tongue gathered my arousal off his long, well-endowed fingers. And though I could hear his groan well and clear, I felt it more than anything. It reverberated through my body and brought me more to life in a way I never thought imaginable.
No one had ever made me feel that way with one single sound, and that's how I knew.
I thought I knew it from the start—from when we were growing up—that I wanted to be near him forever. But It was always just a silly dream, something I was never quite able to reach, and as I got older and we rarely saw each other, it got harder to even imagine anymore.
Now I didn't have to imagine.
Spencer Reid was right in front of me, touching me, tasting me, verbally praising me with sounds I'd only ever dreamed of...
I wanted him to have his moment, because I was positive he'd wanted this just as much as I did, but this sappy sort of revelation I was having made it nearly impossible to not be utterly wrapped up in him, and I wanted more.
So I wiggled and adjusted myself underneath him before grabbing his hand and placing it over my heart. His eyes widened softly at the sight of me, and I knew then that he was taking the time to memorize my face, and the image of his hand resting at my chest, right where my heart was encased beneath bones, flesh, and fabric.
"I could look at you forever," he whispered then.
I would have been ashamed to admit that I whimpered when he said it, but the way he looked at me afterwards made me feel the exact opposite.
He smiled, using his other hand to come up and touch my face. "You want it bad, don't you, Honeybee?"
I didn't even argue with him this time. My head nodded and my hands reached out to pull him closer. "I want you... More than I've ever wanted anything."
Before he leaned down to kiss me, I could have swore he looked like he was going to shed a tear. The duality of him, his ability to be all teasing and cocky one second and then reduced to a lovesick mess at just a few words from me the next, made my heart sing.
And it kept singing, a sweet, steady melody as Spencer kissed me and touched me like he meant it.
Only this time, he didn't pause or tease me with theatrics. He went straight for the kill, fetching a condom from his pants pocket and then sliding the material down, all while keeping me trapped under his embrace. I welcomed it naturally, humming happily into his neck and jawline and anywhere I could reach as he got us both fully undressed and situated, until finally he had the condom on and his hands rested nicely on either side of my head.
"Promise not to sting me?"
I laughed, draping my arms over his shoulders and flashing him a wink. "Mmm, only if you promise to give it to me good..."
"Deal."
He slowly pushed into me then, and the stretch was far more satisfying than his fingers, though I was in no position to complain either way. If he was even half as skilled with his hips as he was with his hands (which I had no doubts about whatsoever), then neither of us had anything to worry about.
It didn't take long for us to find our rhythm, but I didn't have time to think about that. I was so consumed with just the feeling of him being everywhere that technicalities didn't matter.
That being said, the technicalities were really fucking good.
His hips snapped into mine with sharp precision, and I felt it deep within my bones. My cunt clung around him willingly and accordingly, as did my legs, which hooked over his waist as I dug my heels into his ass.
Meanwhile Spencer grabbed my hands and pinned them above my head again, this time interlocking our fingers and then leaning down to kiss me deeply. It was met with my undying welcome, of course, but with the way he was fucking me, deep and with a devotion that nearly exploded my heart, I couldn't help but whine out for more.
His name was all I could manage.
"What do you want, Honeybee?" he cooed, holding himself deep inside me and grinding his hips in small circles that made it harder to breathe.
"M—More... I..."
"Can you be more specific?"
How he could be such a cocky little shit in this moment I wasn't sure, and it frustrated me to no end. He knew damn well what I wanted, and I knew just the thing that would make him give it to me.
I have him the biggest pout I could, also whining out the most pathetic, "More," in my arsenal. And with a roll of my hips up into his, I gasped out at how deep he got, and whined out again.
"Spoiled brat," Spencer grunted in defeat, retreating only to slam into me at full force.
My small gasps and cries turned into full-blown howls of searing pleasure as he fucked me then. My head tipped back and my back arched slightly, exposing my neck and chest to him, and he took it as an invitation to lean down and put his mouth anywhere he could reach. I was sure there would be small nicks and bruises littered over my skin the next morning, and just thinking of everyone seeing them, seeing Spencer's mark on me, made it harder to prolong the inevitable.
I came with a shout, flexing my hands into his as my body tensed then relaxed, over and over while he whispered praises into my skin. He followed soon after, shoving his face into my neck and muffling the most beautiful sound I'd ever heard as he came.
By then his hands had loosened, so I snuck my own away from his and brought them over to hug him close. One hand knotted into his hair while the other grazed over his back. The thin sheen of sweat forming over his skin once again was more enticing than it probably sounded, but I loved it all the same. I felt him relax and bring his arms down to rest at my sides, his fingertips dancing lightly over my skin and giving me goosebumps.
Then out of nowhere, he said something that confused and mildly panicked me. "I thought you said you wouldn't sting me..."
I pulled away to try and look at his face, loosening my grip on his body. "A—Am I hurting you? I'm sorry..."
He laughed though, peppering tiny kisses up my neck until he got to my jaw. "You're not hurting me, Honeybee... You've just... stung my heart, that's all."
"I... Is that a bad thing?"
"It's a strange thing..."
He looked at me like I was the one thing on the planet he adored, but his words sounded different.
I raised an eyebrow. "You're not helping me understand..."
With another laugh, Spencer Kissed my cheek and rolled off of me, settling for laying on his side and turning me to face him. "Do you remember how I gave you your nickname?"
Despite my confusion about all of this, I entertained him with a huffed laugh. "Yeah, I spilled honey all over my shorts without realizing it, and I had ants all over me in a matter of minutes. I was terrified."
"I was highly amused."
I shoved him. "Yeah, dork, I know you were! You and Seraphina both thought it was the funniest thing on the planet, and then your mom had to come out and spray me down with a hose before I came back in the house."
Spencer barked a laugh, and I wanted to punch it right out of his mouth.
"Tell me again why this is relevant to our current situation?" I reminded him with and sigh, already over his antics.
Thankfully he seemed to take pity on me; He reached a hand out and played with a strand of my hair, smiling even brighter than when I opened the door for him. "That's when I started to feel it. You were just... so cute all angry at me and Sera for laughing, and it... It changed everything."
"You know, that would be more romantic if I hadn't been covered in bugs," I responded with a laugh.
"It's true! And it confused the hell out of me, because how was I supposed to cope with the fact that I actually had a crush on my little sister's best friend like some stupid cliché? You were always so feisty after that, too, and it certainly didn't help... And when I graduated and went off to college, I thought... I thought there was no chance you would ever be able to break the heart you'd managed to steal."
He swiped his thumb gently over my bottom lip and smiled, his eyes going all tear-y again. It sent butterflies through my whole body.
"I would never even dream of breaking your heart, Spencer..."
Our foreheads pressed together then, and the unwavering adoration in his voice when he spoke made me forget all prior confusion and minor embarrassment over re-living our origins.
All that mattered was that he was here, holding me in his arms and making me feel like the luckiest woman in the world.
"I know you won't, Honeybee."
———
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#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid smut#spencer reid x reader smut#spencer reid#criminal minds#criminal minds fanficiton#criminal minds smut#spencer reid fanfiction
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Hey, I believe your requests are open, so, could you please write smth were reader and Tech are friends with benefits?
Also, I’m in the same dilemma as you, cause everyone already forgot tbb and I’m still obsessed??? Like, were is everybody excitement about the show, it was gone so fast…
Anyway, thank ya <3
hello friend! this is a delicious request and i am more than happy to oblige! i’m not sure if you wanted like pure angst or like sexy successful fwb but above all else i am a dirty dirty slut for happy endings so i went light angst, heavy fluff, mild smut to get a little of everything lmaooooo. this also got a little out of control and i’m not sorry.
and literally i am suffering so much in this ever increasing drought of bad batch excitement. like i feel like the person at a party when everyone else is tired and wants to leave who’s still just way too hyped and is like “NO WAIT GUYS LETS HAVE MORE SHOTS AND PLAY TRUTH OR DARE COME ON ITLL BE FUN”. i am in absolute agony. but anyways!
a mutually beneficial arrangement (tech x gn!reader)
it was purely sex. just two friends helping each other relieve some stress occasionally. just two friends who happened to have sex with each other. until it wasn’t.
warnings: fwb, mild smut, reader is gender/genital neutral but they are penetrated by tech (amab)
word count: no idea but it’s pretty long
***
In hindsight, it really shouldn’t have shocked you that this was how things played out.
It’s not like you’d ever been friends with benefits with someone before. It’s not like you didn’t know how easily you could develop feelings for people. It’s not like you didn’t know you were maybe just a little too interested in Tech non-platonically before any of this even started.
No, you knew all of those things going into it. You made the conscious decision to be the biggest dumbass in the galaxy.
When Tech had first suggested a friends with benefits situation, it seemed like a much better idea than it actually was. You had been assigned to Clone Force 99 for a few weeks at that point and had already developed fast friendships with all of them (Crosshair even sometimes acknowledged your presence with neutrality and that definitely felt like at least an acquaintanceship). You were closest with Tech, and one tipsy night at 79’s found the two of you making out in a hallway near the bathroom. You could still remember the way his mouth tasted like whiskey as he pressed you up against the wall
He paused his assault on your lips to look at you, breath fanning lightly across your face. You whined at the loss of contact, not noticing in your haze the intensity in his eyes as he studied you, as though if he took in enough of you he would have the answer to an imposssible question. He migrated lower, planting kisses and sucking lightly on your neck until he made his way to your ear.
“Have you ever heard of people being platonic sexual partners?”, he asked low in your ear. You shuddered at the feeling of his breath and the deeper tone to his voice before you answered.
“You mean like friends with benefits?”
“Yes, that is exactly what I mean,” Tech clarified as he moved to once again nibble on the sweet spots of your neck. Had you had a little more sense, you would have warned him not to leave any noticeable marks, lest you suffer the teasing of the rest of the boys.
“I’ve heard of it, I’ve never done it before though. Why?”
“Well, given our current circumstance,” his response was punctuated by his ministrations on your pressure points, “it may be mutually beneficial for us to enter into that type of arrangement.”
You stopped him for a moment, and lifted his face so that you could make eye contact. Tech stood up a little straighter, hands running up and down your sides lightly as he gazed down at you.
“You think that we should be friends with benefits?”
Tech nodded, one hand moving to brush a strand of hair out of your face.
“I believe it would be an advantageous relationship. We could have relations while still maintaining our successful platonicity, thus eliminating the need to alter the dynamic of the squad with the complications of some trivial romance. It would also be physically beneficial. Sexual intercourse has been shown to successfully alleviate stress, as well as…”
He kept going, explaining the health benefits of sex, but it was hard to pay attention to his rambling while you tried to clear your head of the alcohol and the intoxication of his touch and figure out where you stood on his proposition. In that moment, everything he said made total sense. Granted, that part about “trivial romance” stung a little, but you could still fuck him without ruining the squad or your friendship with him, and Maker did you want to fuck him…
Uncharacteristically cutting off his rant, you responded. “I accept your offer. I would love to be friends with benefits with you.”
Tech grinned, a lust forming in his eyes at the new promise of the benefits the night was leading to.
“Splendid”
From that (mind-blowing) night, sex became a very regular thing. A mission went poorly? Frustrated sex. A mission went well? Celebratory sex. The Batch got leave time? Vacation sex. The Batch hadn’t gotten leave time in too long? Cabin fever sex. It really had started out pretty platonically, but after the first few times you could feel yourself falling head over heels for him. You knew you should stop it, Tech would never hold it against you or be upset if you changed your mind. You told yourself again and again that you would just break it off with him, but then his hands and his lips and his body would be on you, and the hungry way he looked at you would knock the air, and any ideas of making him stop, out of you.
In your defense, it wasn’t like you were the one who had suggested it. Tech had to know the likelihood that your “platonic sexual relationship” would only stay platonic for so long. Actually, you were surprised he hadn’t done a little more analysis of the situation. If he had taken into account all of the factors (the rate of failure in friends with benefits situations, each of your levels of emotionality and past relationships, the effects of living and working in close quarters, etc), you can’t imagine he would have thought it was a smart idea. If Tech had crunched the numbers like he normally would, it wouldn’t have produced favorable results. So for him to want to do it anyway, or to not even analyze it beforehand, must mean he had some sort of feelings for you, right?
This was one of the various problem in your current situation. Tech would always do things that were just on the line between “friends” and “more than friends”. He would go out of his way to do little things for you, he would share info and jokes and side comments with you that he never tried to share with brothers, he would blush when you complimented any of his work, he would stand just a little too close to you or let his touch linger just a little too long. He would suggest a sexual relationship that was highly statistically improbable to be successful.
And while Tech offered nothing but mixed signals, you took it a step further and let those mixed signals fester in your brain until you had warped them into one very clear signal: he liked you as more than a friend. You were so sure of it too. Why would he do all of those things if he didn’t like you like that? It’s not even like he treated you like some one night stand when he fucked you. He cared about making you feel good (usually it seemed like he cared more about you getting off than him), he would clean you up after and you always stayed the night together, cuddled and whispering late into the night about nothing and everything.
There was nothing friendly about your intimate nights together, come to think of it. Friends that just fucked would never treat each other so tenderly or lovingly. It’s not that completely unbelievable to think you would accidentally blurt out that you love him. Tech should have expected that.
But it was out there, unfortunately. You had committed the cardinal sin of being friends with benefits and you couldn’t take it back.
Tech’s brutal pace never faltered as he pumped in and out of you, your moans growing louder and louder as you began to approach your peak. He gazed down at you, locking eyes, and the emotion you could feel behind them was overwhelming. You could tell that he was close, with all the experience you had with him you knew his body better than your own, and he brought his hand up to softly caress your cheek.
“You’re so beautiful. I can’t believe I get to see you like this,” he huffed out, brow furrowing as the rhythmic slamming of his hips against you brought him closer and closer to the edge.
At his words, you reached your climax, and as you came undone words of ecstasy slipped from your lips between wails of pleasure.
“Kriff Tech… ah…. Tech..fuck…I love you”
You didn’t even realize it at first, too caught up in the moment, but Tech did. His eyes grew impossibly wide, and he was finishing inside you before either of you could fully process what you had just said.
As you both came down from your high, the gravity of your admission settled between you. Tech pulled out and flopped down next to you wordlessly, and for a few minutes you both just stared at the ceiling in torturous silence. And then he got up and walked to the refresher, not even looking at you once, and you felt like that was all the confirmation you needed that you woefully misinterpreted your entire relationship with him.
You lept out of his bunk, threw your clothes on, and left as silently as possible, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill down your cheeks. At least you could spare yourself the embarrassment of your words in that moment, and both of you could just forget it and move on.
Of course, you knew that pretending it didn’t happen would be impossible. You told him you loved him, and he said nothing. For several minutes. And then hid in the fresher. That was a clear rejection, and while it devastated you, you were still hoping that the two of you could just move on and be friends like you were before the benefits were added.
Apparently to Tech, you had offended him beyond repair. He never spoke to you (unless it was specifically mission oriented), he rarely looked at you or acknowledged your presence, and he positioned himself as far from you as possible at every opportunity. It had been two weeks since your slip up, and he hadn’t even made eye contact with you once.
It was agony. You missed him. You didn’t even really know what it was like to be on this squad without keeping him company while he made repairs or asking him questions about the next place you were going just to hear him talk. You missed making snide jokes with him. You missed admiring the way his goggles magnified his gorgeous caramel eyes.
The other boys noticed the shift very quickly. They had suspected the two of you had some sort of arrangement, and they knew how close you were, so to see it change so abruptly was concerning. Hunter had tried talking to you about it a few times, but you just reassured him that everything was fine and it was nothing he needed to worry about. Wrecker and Crosshair tried to pick up the slack, and started filling in the holes in your routine that Tech used to occupy. Crosshair would sit next to you in the mornings and during briefings, sometimes trying to make little comments in your ear like Tech would. On missions, Wrecker would always aim to pair up with you, and afterwards would try to do something fun like find a sweet treat or rent a good movie.
You appreciated so much what they did for you. But no matter how hard they tried, nothing could take your mind off the wall of ice Tech had built between you. You loved the other boys, but trying to share happy moments with them when all you could think about was how much better it would be with him was becoming unbearable. You didn’t want to leave them, but you couldn’t stay with Tech being so close to you and yet lightyears away.
As you filled out your transfer paperwork, you chuckled wryly to yourself. Even without the “trivial romance”, the squad was still disrupted. In a bittersweet way, it felt good for Tech to be wrong.
***
Tech had really done his best to analyze the evidence and make an informed decision based on his findings. He had been crunching his numbers with you since the day you joined the Batch, after all. Back then, it was the probability of your attraction to each of them. Tech was fascinated with you, and right off the bat he wanted to know his odds- just out of curiosity of course (for the record, they were pretty highly in his favor).
He knew there were pros and cons to the possibility of a relationship with you. First of all, it was technically against regulation for any clone to be involved in a romantic relationship. Second of all, it was likely that such a relationship would have the potential to cause countless rifts and points of weakness among his squad (regardless of the relationship’s success). Then there was also the very possible chance that the relationship wouldn’t work out anyway, leaving both of you hurt and irreparably damaging your friendship. As much as Tech may have wanted you, the costs unfortunately outweighed the benefits.
But then he kissed you at 79’s. And you kissed him back. And there he was, kissing you at 79’s, memorizing the sweetness of your lips on his. And he knew he should stop. He had studied the data and it’s conclusions were not very good, and if he had any sense at all he would stop. But he pulled away and looked at you, took in the flush on your cheeks and the dazed look accompanying your dilated pupils and the swell of your bruised lips. And he couldn’t bring himself to part ways with you. So he offered the closest thing to a relationship he could think of: friends with benefits.
A friends with benefits arrangement would be a more than adequate solution, Tech had decided. He could be physical with you in the proper moments, and then outside of those moments everything would be just as it was before. The squad’s dynamic and mission proficiency would remain consistent, and technically no regulations were being broken since they only specified romantic relationships. Of course, it wasn’t truly what he wanted, but in this arrangement he would get to enjoy you so much more than he currently was.
Unfortunately, he had made a critical oversight. In the dim haze of the club hallway, Tech had only considered how casual sex would compare to a full blown relationship. He didn’t think to analyze it singularly. And he certainly didn’t calculate the logistics of a friends with benefits agreement when one of the friends in question already had romantic feelings for the other friend.
But Tech knew himself. He knew he could have feelings for you and not let them get in the way. He could accept what he was able to have and make peace with what he couldn’t. Casual sex seemed like a good idea when his emotions were the only ones he took into account.
He wasn’t expecting you to fall in love with him.
When you had said it, Tech thought his heart was going to stop right then and there. In the heat of the moment, he couldn’t have imagined more precious words falling from your lips, and instantly it had him spiraling over the edge into ecstasy. But then the moment ended, and you didn’t say anything. He wanted to end the silence, to find out if you really meant it, but his brain was moving too fast to figure out what to say because he really hadn’t considered this would happen. It was naive of him, he supposed, but he really had thought the two of you could have done it without the emotional complications. Part of him, of course, was thrilled, but the other part of him, the logical part, was thrown into absolute chaos at the implications of your statement and what it would mean and all the statistics and probabilities he had calculated and
And you still hadn’t said anything. Tech could see you out of the corner of his eye, face red and chest heaving with emotion. You looked embarassed, regretful, and the realization that maybe you didn’t mean it hit him like a brick to the face. Maybe it was just something that slipped out, something your orgasm-addled mind had conjured up against your will and now you didn’t know how to take it back, didn’t know the right way to tell him you don’t actually love him.
It was too much for him to process at once, and he ran to the refresher in the hopes that he could clear his head and actually think coherently about the situation for a moment. Tech couldn’t have been in there long, maybe a few minutes, just long enough to splash some water on his face, look himself in the eye, and come to the conclusion that he needed to just have a conversation with you instead of playing with hypothetical numbers in his head. But then he came back out and you were gone, and that seemed like all the answer he needed. You didn’t mean it.
That was good, right? You didn’t mean it, and the two of you could keep going the way you had been.
But the ache in Tech’s heart said otherwise. You didn’t love him. He loved you, he knew he did, and he could be ok with pretending he didn’t when he didn’t know how you felt. But he knew now. And it hurt.
It hurt everytime he talked to you, so he stopped talking to you. It hurt everytime he was near you, so he stopped being near you. It hurt everytime he looked at you, so he stopped looking. The squad’s performance hadn’t been altered, so Tech concluded that the awkwardness could be tolerated until your presence didn’t feel so much like a blaster shot to his chest.
But just like pretty much every other choice Tech had made in regards to you, that plan only worked until it backfired horrifically.
***
The Batch were back on Kamino in between missions. Tech had been vaguely aware of Hunter being called in to a meeting of some sort, but he offered his full attention as Hunter stormed back into their room and huffed his way to Tech’s workbench.
“I don’t know what you did, but you need to fix things with Y/N. Now”
At the mention of your name, Tech pretended to return to his work, fiddling with a tool and avoiding eye contact.
“I do not know what you are referring-“
“Like hell you don’t Tech! The two of you haven’t even looked at each other in weeks and now they’ve put in a request to be transferred to another unit, so don’t tell me there’s nothing going on between you.”
Tech shot up, tools abandoned and stool knocked over with the force of his standing.
“They requested a transfer?”
“Yeah, they did. Now, I don’t know what happened, but I know your little silent treatment has been hurting them a lot. I don’t want to see them go, and you don’t either. So go talk to them and fix it, or I’ll have you transferred instead,” Hunter ordered, finger pointed at Tech’s chest. The threat was empty, of course, but it had fallen on deaf ears regardless.
Tech all but sprinted out into the hall, desperate to change your mind before you left them for good. As much as it pained him to be near you, the thought of being without you was somehow so much worse. He reached your quarters and unceremoniously burst in, barely giving the doors enough time to slide open before he was moving past them.
You jumped at his sudden entrance, hand coming up to clutch your chest.
“Maker, Tech you scared me!”
“Please don’t leave”
You stared at him, taking in his appearance for the first time. His chest was heaving, like he’d just run a marathon, and his eyes were frantic and impossibly wide behind his goggles. You didn’t think you’d ever seen him so disheveled, even when you’d slept with him.
You wanted to look away, but you were conscious of the fact that this was the first time you had made eye contact in Maker knows how long and you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.
“Tech, I-I can’t stay with the way things are. I’m sorry about what I said, I know it was just supposed to be a friend thing and I shouldn’t have fallen in love with you. I really tried not to, but I did and I ruined everything and you can’t even look at me anymore so how can I-“
Tech took step closer, cutting off your rambling as his brow furrowed.
“You fell in love with me?”
He spoke so quietly, it was barely above a whisper. You nodded, confused at his surprised considering the whole issue was that you told him you loved him and he didn’t feel the same. That was the issue, right?
You could practically see the smoke coming out of his ears as he tried to process what was happening.
“I thought… I thought you didn’t mean it”
Now it was your turn to be confused.
“Why would you think that?”
“Y-you didn’t say anything. You confessed your affections for me while in a compromised state and didn’t say anything else afterwards. Your body language indicated regret and-and you left. I concluded that you said it by accident, and did not actually mean it,” he explained as calmly as he could in his rattled state.
“I left because I told you I loved you and you locked yourself in the fresher! And then you wouldn’t talk to me so I figured you were mad at me because I have feelings for you and you don’t feel the same way!”
Tech’s face broke out in a huge grin, and just as you were about to ask him why he was so happy all of a sudden, he rushed forward and passionately slotted his lips against yours. You gasped into him before immediately reciprocating the kiss, and you tangled your hands in his hair as his fingers desperately clutched your hips. Of all the kisses you had shared with him, none had felt the way this one did. There was an emotion pouring into it, one that had always been on the verge of spilling over but never had before. Eventually you broke apart, and you cursed your lungs for needing air.
He leaned his forehead against yours as you both caught your breath, and broke the silence after a few moments.
“I love you, too. I have for a significant amount of time. When you left that night, I incorrectly assumed you did not share my affections. I avoided you after because I… I was hurt. I apologize for misinterpreting your actions, and for allowing you to think that I was upset with you. I assure you, that could not be further from reality.”
You laughed giddily, bumping his nose with yours as you relished in his confession.
“If you loved me, why did you just want to be friends with benefits?”
Tech blushed and look down, a sheepish look overtaking his features.
“Well, I performed a cost-benefit analysis on engaging in a romantic relationship, and the potential complications were too great. A platonic sexual partnership offered a less risky alternative. Although, I must admit that I failed to properly calculate the possible outcomes of such an agreement between two individuals in our specific situation,” he elaborated.
“We might be the two dumbest people in the galaxy,” you joked with a giggle.
“Technically, it is statistically impossible for that to be true, given-“
You cut him off with another deep kiss, your hands coming to rest on his arms as they kept you in his iron-clad grip. He had never loosened his hold, as though he thought if he let you go, you would disappear.
Abruptly, the kiss ended as Tech pulled back slightly to look at you.
“Does this mean you are no longer transferring out of our squad?”
You grinned.
“That depends. Does this mean we can have a real relationship, not just sex?”
Tech brought one hand to rest on his jaw as he looked upwards and pretended to be deep in thought.
“Well, according to my calculations, we have already experienced nearly all of the possible complications of pursuing a romantic relationship, so I have no objection to enjoying some of the benefits,” he concluded with a playful smile.
You leaned up to kiss him again, pausing just before your lips made contact with his to make a sly comment.
“And we know how good we are at some of those benefits already”
#the bad batch#bad batch#tbb#tbb tech#tech tbb#the bad batch tech#tech the bad batch#tbb tech x reader#tech x reader#the bad batch tech x reader#tech x y/n#tech x you#the bad batch x reader
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this is my (several days late) piece for @seita's corrupt-a-virgin collab! thanks a bunch for letting me participate!
pairing: toru oikawa x fem reader
contains: unprotected vaginal sex, oral sex (fem receiving), fingering, swearing, corruption and corruption kink, loss of virginity, very light dacryphilia.
word count: 3036
**this work is intended for 18+ audiences only. minors do not interact. do not repost my work or recommend it on any other platform**
“Oh, it feels good though, doesn’t it?” he chuckles, breath wafting over your face as his fingers press against your crotch through the fabric of your panties.
It does feel good and you think that’s the worst part of it all. Toru’s fingers feel good, they feel so fucking good in fact that you’re embarassed at the memories of your own fingers between your legs like this, desperately trying to get yourself off to no avail.
“Hey,” he murmurs, nudging your noses together gently, making you catch his gaze; his eyes are so dark now that they look like molten dark chocolate. It’s only seconds until you’re lost in them.
“Hm?” you mumble, face horribly warm.
“Does it feel good?”
“Yeah,” the response tumbles from your mouth without any prompting from your brain. Toru smiles at you, dazzling and breathtaking as ever.
“That’s a good girl,” he murmurs, kissing the corner of your lips. His fingers continue their slow circles against the fabric and it isn’t long before you feel wetness spreading around, making the fabric heavier and sticky.
It feels good, it really does- so good. He knows what he’s doing, that’s clear, but you try to push that thought from your mind with moderate success; he’s here with you now. That’s what matters. Someone as handsome and charming as Toru couldn’t go without pussy, and what was the harm? You’re enjoying it, reaping the benefits of his experience-
“Getting lost in that pretty little head of yours?” he coos, smiling against your cheek. Before you can answer, he’s speaking again. “I need to up my game, then,” he sucks slightly on your earlobe before pulling away. Long, elegant fingers hook underneath the flimsy fabric of your panties and he pulls down, exposing your glistening, aroused cunt to him.
You whimper, gasping slightly as your panties are slid away and the cooler air of the room hits your flushed skin. Out of instinct, you try to close your thighs, to hide your soft pussy from him, but he’s quick to keep your legs parted with his hands.
“Ah, ah, ah,” he chides playfully, smirking at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes, “Keep these pretty legs open, baby. Can you do that? Be a good girl for me, now.”
Slowly, his index finger slides up and around your folds, the sensation eliciting a whine from you immediately. Your nerves alight with pleasure, tingling in a way you’ve never been able to feel from your fingers alone. This was better than anything you’d ever tried, and at this point you’re too far gone, too given in to the pleasure, to care if Toru knows that or not.
“Mmmmf,” you whimper, pressing your lips together tightly, and you hear a kind, amused chuckle from your lover.
“Sounds like you’re purring for me,” he tells you, leaning in to steal another kiss from your sweet lips. “Must mean you like this, huh?”
He tilts his head at you, waiting patiently and adorably for an answer. You’re able to nod, mouth suddenly too dry to let him know by speaking. But that seems to be okay with him, in fact, he seems to really enjoy the fact that you can’t speak at the moment.
“So if this feels good,” he continues, talking out loud to himself like you’re not even there, “then this must feel pretty great, huh?”
As he speaks, his fingers part your folds and he circles the pad of his finger against your clit. A loud cry tumbles from your lips immediately, pleasure surging through you at a dizzying pace as Toru plays with the acing, hard bud.
“Well, lookie here,” he says in that slightly mocking sing-song voice, “I’d say you like that, don’t you, baby?”
You don’t answer. You can’t. It feels so good, too good, and your toes are curling, back is arching, wetness spreads through you like you’ve never felt it before.
And then it’s gone. Toru takes his hands off you completely, causing your cunt to throb almost violently with the loss.
“Toru!” you whine, sounding more pathetic than you meant to, and if you weren’t so desperate, you would be embarrassed by how it sounds.
“I asked you a question, little girl,” he tells you, and though his voice is light and playful, there’s an edge underneath it. His eyes are hard. Looking back on this in hindsight, you realize he’s molding you here, shaping you into exactly what he wants.
The next words out of your mouth show him that you’ll allow this.
“It feels good, I like it,” you whimper, lips quivering, suddenly upset at the thought that you may have upset him or disappointed him in some way. Your hips move downward, sliding down the bed toward Toru, seeking out more of that pleasure.
“That’s what I was looking for,” he approves, sliding his hands back between your folds and returning his fingers to their work of circling your clit.
“I expect you to answer me when I ask you questions, princess,” he says, “otherwise I’ll have to punish my sweet girl… and we wouldn’t want that, now would we?”
You bristle. No. You don’t want that.
“Right,” you whimper, voice shaky and unsturdy with the pleasure he’s giving you, “don’t want that.”
And then he’s his normal self once more, sweet and teasing and mocking you in a sweet voice; completely being the Toru you know and love. This had been an experiment, you’ll realize later, to see what he could make you do, and to see what all he could get from you. You played right into his hand. Like taking candy from a baby...only easier.
“I’m gonna put my mouth on it, ‘kay?”
His next words pull you from your blissed pleasure quickly, like yanking you out of a warm, wet dream.
“Gonna do what?”
He laughs at your slurred words, settling himself on the floor between where your legs have draped over the side of the bed.
“I’m gonna put my mouth on this pretty little pussy,” he repeats, letting his lewd intentions drip off each letter as a triumphant grin spreads over his lips as you become visibly more flushed and shy and turned on than you were before.
“Why would you do that?” you want to know. Your question is met with another chuckle.
“Why don’t you be quiet and let me do it,” he replies, “and then you’ll know the answer to that question.”
You nod, face burning, and he winks at you, long lashes framing beautifully dark eyes, and then he bows his head and all you can see are the chocolate waves of his hair, where your fingers quickly find purchase once he slides his tongue over your folds, licking in one long, sloppy swipe.
It sends shivers up your spine, your mouth falls open, a whimper falling from it before you can register what’s happened. He repeats the action, using his strong hands to pull your thighs up to hook over his shoulders. All you can focus on is his tongue, is the way it feels like magic. It makes you cry out with each stroke over your folds.
His right hand is spread out at the bottom of your belly, beautiful fingers over soft skin, and his thumb starts swiping at your clit intermittently, in time with when he’s sliding his tongue over you. The added stimulation makes you groan and whine, catching your teeth harshly between your lips as you have to close your eyes from pleasured tears welling behind them.
Your back nearly snaps in half when he swirls his tongue around your clit. It sends every nerve alight with pleasure, his soft, wet, delicious tongue working against the sensitive nub is a dream, and the feeling of it makes you damn near lose all your senses.
At that moment, you don’t know your name. You don’t know how old you are or where you’re from, and you don’t even remember what you had for dinner that night. All you know is Toru and his tongue and his long, beautifully expert fingers and how they can make you feel like a goddess and bring you into a world of pure pleasure. Your brain is mushy, unable to string together a thought, let along a sentence, so the only thing falling from your lips as you rake your hands through beautifully styled trusses of Toru’s hair is broken syllables of his name.
It’s not long before you feel a different kind of euphoria creeping around the edges of your pleasure, blurring it, bringing it to zenith, the likes of which you’ve never known before. Your fingers haven’t brought you pleasure like this before, nor did your vibrator; no, this was unparalleled and uncharted territory.
“To-ru!” you cry out, voice hoarse and strained as you tug on his hair. “I’m go-nna,” you try to tell him, words failing you completely. He pays you no mind, continuing to slurp and suck and lick at your cunt and your clit, humming against your skin as though he’s completely unbothered.
One final sob leaves your lips before you cum harder than you ever have before. It washes over you like a wave so powerful that it nearly drowns you. Your vision spots white as tears fall from the corners of your eyes, and somewhere deep inside, you know that you’re addicted now, addicted to Toru and his tongue and what he can do with it. There’s no hope for you to ever escape, but it’s a good thing you don’t want to.
Your entire body, each nerve, sings with pleasure so bright and golden that you feel like you’re glowing, and from Toru’s perspective, you are. You look gorgeous in your bliss, and he’s so lucky, he thinks, to have such a wonderful seat from which to see it.
“Think you’re ready for me to put it in, babe?” Toru asks you, his voice now deeper than it had been. You blink at him, not comprehending, and he grins. The now familiar heat on your cheeks continues to burn as you see his slicked chin, clit throbbing as you know what he did to you to make such a mess of himself.
“Can I fuck you?” he asks , tilting his head with a slight blush on his cheeks, which only makes you heat up more.
“Yeah,” you whine out, causing his lips to pull into a grin. He kisses you again, and you taste your cunt on his mouth, much to your embarrassment and arousal. The slick of his chin slides over yours, but you’re unbothered by it. If anything, it excites you more because it’s messy and it’s sexy and it’s naughty.
“My good girl,” he coos affectionately, smirking at you. His fingers slide down your thighs before he speaks again, “I’m gonna finger you open now, okay?” He asks, concern evident in his tone.
“Yes,” you murmur, feeling the heat of arousal begin to pool again in your stomach as he begins touching your folds with his fingers. Then, he slides his index finger into the warm cavern of your cunt.
It feels weird. Good, but weird. Your body tenses a little bit, and you mewl, but he’s quick to soothe you with soft words.
“It’s okay, babe,” he murmurs, curling his finger gently as he fucks you with it. So slow. “Does it hurt?”
“No,” you groan, feeling wetness spread through you once more as his finger continues its slow, thorough path into and out of you. It’s another moment before you relax.
“That’s a good girl,” Toru says proudly, grin pulling at his lips as he slides another finger into you. Quickly, his hand is slick with your arousal, it’s dripping down his fingers and to the back of his hand, staining the sheets below you.
The second finger is easier to take now; it slides in easier and the pressure against your walls is delightful. As he hooks his fingers, you arch your back, feeling the soft pads of his fingers press against soft, spongy spots inside you that you never could have dreamed to reach with your own hand.
Toru’s third finger has your eyes prickling with tears of pleasure. It’s good, so good, to feel so full. Spit is dribbling from the side of your lip, but you’re unable to feel it, unable to realize you’re drooling for this man and his fingers. Arousal rushes from your cunt like a waterfall, the sheets underneath you will have to be changed because you’ve made them so wet. Never in your wildest dreams did you believe there were so many glorious spots within your walls, but now that Toru’s found them, all of them, you can’t imagine not having this again. You’re addicted to this feeling, too, to his fingers just as much as his mouth, and--
His fingers are gone.
It takes you a moment to register the loss, but when you do, you whimper, and it is so amusing that Toru huffs out a laugh through his nose. He’s standing now, pushing your body further up the bed and crawling over you. His cock, which is as pretty as his fingers, is red and throbbing from his own arousal. You’ve done that to him. You’ve made him that hard.
“Gonna fuck you now, sweet thing,” he rumbles in a deep voice. His hand fists around his cock and he tugs at it, grunting at the semblance of relief he finds in the action. “‘S it okay if I do that?”
“I think if you don’t fuck me, I’ll lose my mind,” you tell him in a slurred voice that feels disconnected from your body.
And he does. You’re wet enough that his cock splits you open with ease, although the size of it isn’t something you expect. As he hovers over you, his hand slides over your hair, petting it in a soothing gesture. He’s speaking to you softly, but you can’t hear the words because your heart is beating too loudly.
“Sweetheart,” he says, firmly now as his hand slides around your jaw. This brings you out of whatever reverie you’re in, and you’re able to look at him, albeit with a bleary gaze.
“Hm?” you mumble.
“Does it hurt?” he asks you, brow furrowed. You consider for a moment. No, it doesn’t hurt… you don’t want it to stop. It’s just...weird.
“No,” you say, shaking your head, “feels weird.”
His face relaxes and the line between his brows disappears as he smiles at you.
“Can you let me keep going?”
You nod. “Yeah.”
Soon, his pelvis is flush against you as his cock is fully inside your cunt. The heat, the stretching, the intimacy of it makes your body and your insides feel hotter than the surface of the sun.
“That’s a good girl,” he says, rubbing his hands over your belly. “Taking my cock so well baby. Fits so nice in that little pussy, doesn’t it?”
“Yuh-yeah,” you whimper, holding onto his arms so tightly that your nails are cutting crescents into his skin, but neither of you can be brought from the moment to care.
“Still feel weird?” he wants to know.
“Al-m-ost good,” you pant out with great effort, cheeks burning with heat.
“You feel so good…” he starts kissing your jawline toward your ear, nibbling along the lobe and the cartilage, tugging gently with his teeth, just enough to make you whimper out, “...gonna start fucking you know, ‘kay pretty girl?”
“‘Kay, Toru.”
His hips move slowly, and it only takes two or three thrusts before almost good starts feeling a little good; and in mere moments, a little good morphs into really good. There’s a slight wet noise coming from where you’re coupled, and if you weren’t so high on your lover you’d be embarrassed by it, but you don’t care and neither does he.
His cock fills you even more perfectly than his fingers. It drags along every inch of you, rubbing, stimulating, enchanting your cunt and entire body with pleasure you’ve never known before.
“Toru,” you groan, hands finally releasing his arms to slide up and brush through his hair.
His face is flushed, a pretty pink color, and his eyes are so dark you don’t see any difference between pupil and iris. Sweat gleams on his forehead, and he’s staring into your eyes with the most intense, loving, needy gaze you’ve ever seen directed at you. His gaze makes you feel known. It makes you feel seen. It scares you and delights you, all at the same time.
“Taking my cock so well, baby,” he praises. “Like a little pro, you were made for this,” his words are cut off by a groan and he presses his face into your shoulder, hips moving slightly faster now as his own orgasm comes closer to his grasp. His balls slap your ass more frequently, the bed frame starts creaking and smacking against the wall, and your wails of pleasure are louder. Toru’s fingers are no longer calm and practiced as they swipe over your clit; now they’re frenzied and shaking.
“Gonna cum,” is the only warning you can say before you cry out, back arching as his cock presses against that particularly wonderful place inside you, as his fingers swipe just right.
You’re cumming, tugging his hair and whimpering out pathetically. Your walls clamp around his cock, milking it, and soon, his hips pause. They press in once more, and he moans, cock spurting ropes of hot cum along your walls.
Both of your breathing is ragged. Your heart is pounding so hard you can almost see it through your chest, and as Toru slumps against your body, you can feel heart battering his ribcage, too.
It’s quiet for a long time, but you don’t know how long it really is. Time moves slower now, it doesn’t make as much sense. All you know is that Toru’s hair smells wonderful. His weight on you is out of this world. His softened cock, his cum, his fingers, all are things you’re addicted to now.
You wouldn’t have it any other way.
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a minor inconvenience.
summary: When the prefect falls sick for a day, all the first years rush to Ramshackle to take care of Yuu.
notes: sickfic, fluff, friendship, drabble, Yuu + first years, they/them pronouns for yuu, mentions of other twst characters (silver, lilia, malleus, leona, ruggie, vil, rook, riddle, trey, cater), 1523 words
a/n: Letting a sixteen year old child beat up your traumatized students with their weird pet cat and morally dubious friends is not therapy, Crowley!!
Help! Yuu’s dying!
Honestly, in hindsight, letting a panicked Grim (who didn’t even have opposable thumbs, how the heck did he figure out how to use their phone?) text the first year group chat was not Yuu’s best idea.
In their defense, however, they were wracked with chills, a sore throat, a horrible cough and a runny nose, so they weren’t exactly in the best mindset to make smart decisions.
And to be fair, Grim was just doing it out of genuine worry-- he couldn’t exactly go to class without his partner, since they each made up half a student. When he had asked how they were doing, Yuu could only moan a “IfeellikeI’mdying.” Grim, who didn’t have more than two intelligent thoughts even on a good day, assumed the worst, and fished out Yuu’s phone.
It was all done in good faith! There was nothing to be mad about. Grim, who was self-absorbed, worried over them! Even if he disguised it as a “If my number one henchman dies, I’ll have no one to buy me tuna.”
That was what Yuu was trying to convince themself of when their friends, Ace, Duece, Jack, Epel and Sebek, broke down Ramshackle’s rusty, creaky door, magic pens out, worked up in a lather, certain Yuu was on death’s door.
It was cute that their friends were so worried! No, it didn’t bother Yuu whatsoever that they would need to scrounge up the money to get the door fixed! It didn’t make their headache any better, but it was fine. They were fine.
Still, they couldn’t stop themself from shooting a sharp glare at Ace and Deuce, who tried not to look Yuu directly in the eye. Deuce carried homework that Yuu had missed, and Ace had a lunchbox from Trey.
Jack was holding a bag full of medicine and medical supplies from Sam’s, his tail drooping (Yuu forgave Jack on the spot).
Epel held a hastily packed container of homemade chicken noodle soup, which smelled so tantalizing that Yuu decided the boy could do no wrong.
Sebek held a questionable vial of medicine (?) that he swore up and down was a classic fae remedy to any malady. The burbling purple bubbles and bitter smell did not convince Yuu that it would be helpful.
Grim was sulking on the end of their bed, loafing with his paws tucked underneath him like an ordinary house cat. “My henchman can’t get better if you keep bothering them,” he grumbled when everyone had trooped in.
“You’re the one who invited them over,” Yuu said sternly, before looking back at their friends and adding, “What do you have to say for yourself?”
“We thought you were dying,” Ace said immediately.
“Don’t be mad, Yuu,” Deuce added. “We’ll help you fix the door.”
“I can set it back in frame,” Epel said thoughtfully. “I’ve seen my papaw-- my grandpa fix doors before. So I should be able to do it... I think.”
“Enough of that, human. Drink this,” Sebek bellowed, shoving his vial under Yuu’s nose.
Yuu shrank back into their pillows, trying not to make a face. Now that they were closer to the vial, the strong odor of melting plastic assaulted their nose. “Thanks, Sebek. I appreciate it. I think I’ll be okay, though.”
“What?! Master Lilia himself prepared this brew, and you would refuse--” Sebek began, just as Grim piped up.
“Huh? Are you trying to make Yuu feel worse--”
“I think what Yuu is saying, Sebek,” Jack interrupted, as Deuce hastily covered Grim’s mouth, “Is that they need to eat something first. It’s hard to eat medicine on an empty stomach.”
Sebek frowned, but lowered his arm. Yuu would have hugged Jack on the spot. “I see! Well, as soon as you have some food, you should drink this. Master Lilia promises that it will cure you right away!”
“That’s great.” Yuu made a mental note to get someone to dump it down the sink when Sebek wasn’t looking. They appreciated the thought, they really did. But they knew what Lilia’s cooking tasted like, and they highly doubted fae medicine would work on humans.
“We’ll go prepare the food,” Ace said quickly, giving a side eye to the vial. “Let’s go, Epel. You too, Sebek.”
The three boys left, leaving Jack and Deuce to fuss over Yuu.
“This is all the homework you missed,” Deuce said earnestly, dumping some books on Yuu’s night stand. “If you need any help, you can just ask us. I might not be that helpful, but I’ll do my best!”
Jack held out his plastic bag. “Here. I wasn’t sure what was going on, but I thought that if you were in trouble, well... you would need as many of these as possible.”
Yuu took the bag from Jack, gingerly sifting through the contents. “Thanks, guys. But, wow, it really looks like you cleaned out Sam’s whole store, huh?”
“Well, Leona heard that something was going on, and Ruggie came with me to go shopping for supplies using Leona’s money. He was the one who suggested we get a bunch of things. He might have bought something for himself on the side, though.”
Huh. The idea that Leona and Ruggie, people who usually only did things if they benefited from it, cared about their wellbeing was touching.
“Oh! I almost forgot,” Deuce said. “Trey made you food! Riddle helped with some, and Cater said to feel better soon! He said you definitely can’t miss the next Unbirthday party!”
Grim perked up at the mention of food, drifting closer so he was nestled near Yuu’s legs. “Perfect! I was getting hungry!”
“It’s not for you,” Deuce scolded.
“Eh, it’s fine. I don’t mind sharing.” Yuu smiled, pulling out fever medicine from the bag Jack had handed them. “Hey, can someone help get me a glass of water?”
“I’ll do it,” Jack said immediately, heading out with the fever medicine in hand.
Deuce gingerly sat on the edge of Yuu’s bed. “Class wasn’t as fun without you and Grim. Even Ace was moping.”
“Hah! Of course you would miss the great Grim.”
“Don’t get used to it, though” Yuu informed Deuce. “I’ll feel better again soon. What would you two do without me?”
“We probably wouldn’t get in as much trouble, for one,” Ace said suddenly, his head popping up from the side of the door frame. Marching in, he plopped by Deuce’s side on the bed. “Scoot over.”
Deuce did so with a grumble as the rest of Yuu’s friends walked into the room. Epel was carefully balancing a tray full of soup, sliced fruit, and sandwiches. Jack and Sebek followed, the former holding a glass of water, who handed it to Yuu.
Yuu drank it in a few gulps as Sebek watched them with furrowed eyebrows.
“I can’t seem to find my medicine, human,” he boomed. “It is a shame. It seems I must nurse you to health myself. Rest assured! You are in capable hands!”
“That is kind of the reason we’re here,” Epel muttered under his breath. Then, more loudly, “Here. I was going to make you soup by myself, but Vil saw me. When he asked what it was for, and I told him I did it because I was worried for you, he decided to make his own... healthy version of it. There should be.. lots of nutrients in it, he said. Rook also showed up and added some... meat... I think.”
Homemade soup from Vil Schoenheit himself? Yuu could sell this stuff for major money. They were honestly surprised so many of their upperclassmen cared about their health. They always seemed to get on the dorm leaders’ nerves with the trouble they got into. So it was nice to see so many people to worry over them.
“Oh, yes. My young master and master Lilia wish you to feel better soon! So you absolutely must, or else! I also wish the same.” Sebek’s cheeks pinken at his own words. “So does Silver, I suppose,” he added as an afterthought.
Yuu gingerly picked up a sandwich. It was easy to tell which of the food had been made by Riddle. The sandwiches were sloppily cut and the ingredients uneven. The fruit slices were lumpy, with bits of peel stuck on them. Still, the image of Riddle, normally so intimidating and stern, fumbling over making a simple sandwich was so out of character they almost laughed.
Grim picked up a sandwich, humming happily at the taste. Epel and Jack were talking about how to fix the door. Deuce slapped Ace’s hand away from trying to steal a slice of fruit. Sebek was brushing off the drawer, exclaiming at how dusty it was, and how it wasn’t healthy.
Yuu smiled, relaxing into the bed and biting into a sandwich. It was nice to know that despite being an outsider who wasn’t even from this world, they had found a group of good friends. They were going to be okay.
(Well, that appreciation would last only until they discovered that Ace, Sebek and Epel had made a mess in the kitchen.)
#liya writes#twisted wonderland#yuu#ace trappola#deuce spade#jack howl#epel felmier#sebek zigvolt#twst#twst yuu#grim#twst grim
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Globgor Rants #2
Rating Mewni Matriarchy prt.2
PART 1
7. Comet, The Chef
“I…..really want to like this one. She seemed like she was a very devoted mother, and I praise her for trying to make peace with monsters without violence, but….she was very naive. Like, offensively so. Did she really think what separated us from Mewmans was the fact we didn’t know how to ‘savor’ a meal? What?! Yeah, she’s right. Food was what was causing the tension between us. As in, THEY KEPT STEALING OURS! You think we had the resources to make pies and crumb-boo-lay? She wanted to do things civilly, but she obviously saw us as ignorant barbarians, just like everyone else. The only difference is that she wanted to reason with us instead of trying to wipe us out. Which in hindsight, I appreciate, but I still can’t help but cringe at her naive way of thinking. We wanted land and freedom, Comet. Not baked goods.”
8. Dirhhennia, The Heaped
“Um….I just….find it hard to understand this one. I mean, I want to keep in mind that Eclipsa was also scolded for being too weird, but….she’s weird in a charming way. This girl is just….kind of gross. There, I said it. She’s gross and kind of rude. Clearly wasn’t meant to be a queen, but hey, she was part of the ‘oh so perfect’ bloodline, so….”
9. Estrella, The Drafted
“Nothing frustrates me more than someone who reaps the benefits of being royalty without putting any of the work in. All this woman did was draw her little pictures instead working to better the lives of her subjects! Maybe if she’d put in the slightest effort to better the relations between monsters and Mewmans, her daughter wouldn’t have been assassinated in her attempts to!
……Okay, I’m sorry. That was pretty harsh. I just can’t stand people who choose to stand aside and do nothing. It’s cowardly. Especially if you live in comfort while those around you suffer!
…..At least she had the talent to back up those drawings. They’re quite good.”
10. Rhina, The Riddled
“SHE KILLED HER HUSBAND!!! How does someone get away with that?! Seriously, Eclipsa was dubbed an irredeemable villain for marrying a monster, but this woman commits mariticide, and….what? Nothing?! No big deal?!
It’s because he was a demon, I tell you. Yes, the Lucitors had long abandoned their monster roots by then, but you know if he had been a Mewman she wouldn’t have gotten off so easy! Just, AUGH! Also, on a much lesser note, I hate riddles!
11. Festivia, The Fun
“Sorry to all those who want to see Eclipsa and I ‘adopt’ this child, but I really can’t stand her. I was very frustrated with Estrella for living leisurely with no responsibilities, but at least she didn’t do it at the expense of my daughter!! Festivia literally threw a party while her subjects died protecting the kingdom! She was having the time of her life while my Meteora, the rightful ruler, was being abused! And people want me to feel sorry for this girl?! Why? Because she was lied to? Well, so was Meteora!! So was all of Mewni!! She was literally nothing more than a carefree puppet for the High Comission to control! I would NEVER see her as a daughter! To do so would be to spit in my actual daughter’s face, and to all the suffering she had to endure while this brat….threw parties!!!”
12. Crescenta, The Eager
“The only one worse than Festivia is her second daughter (and the last entry, but you get it). This child is a psychopath, plain and simple. She brainwashes everyone, including herself! She sought to control my people, and was willing to lie and cheat everyone around her in order to do so. I guess seeing a prejudice Mewman queen shouldn’t surprise me, but the fact that she hides her madness with a cutsie smile truly disturbs me. Not only was she a bigot, she was a blind one. She obviously had feelings for her monster friend, Emily! She was just…a sinister imp who was given too much power. I’d be happy to punch that stupid grin off her face any day!”
13. Solaria, Monster Carver
“If you’ve been following my blog for awhile, you’ll know that I’ve expressed many times how I feel about my dictator-in-law. The woman. Is. EVIL. Really, you only need to look at her name to see why! She’s a murderer, racist, sadistic tyrant! By far the most harmful to monsterkind! She didn’t just look down on us, she wanted to commit genocide! She terrified children, separated families, pushed us to the brink of starvation….It took many times before I was able to read her chapter all the way through. I felt so sick from her words and the innocent blood covering her pages…blood that could very well have belonged to friends of mine!
The multiverse is a funny place, yes? My mortal enemy gave birth to the love of my life. She didn’t deserve her though. I know how embarrassed she’d always act when Eclipsa approached the war with peaceful intentions. And then selling her like a horse to he-who-shall-not-be-named? She was despicable to everyone, even to her own family….”
——
“And that was my list of Mewni Queens, from best to worst! I hope you all enjoyed it, and please feel free to give your input on my choices! See you next time!”
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Not Giving Up
Post-2x10 continuation
The conversation we better see in season three.
Not Giving Up
“You Can’t Just Give Up On Someone Because The Situation’s Not Ideal.
Great Relationships Aren’t Great Because They Have No Problems.
They’re Great Because Both People Care Enough About The Other Person To Find a Way To Make It Work.”
—Unknown author
Victor smiled despite himself when the door swung open and revealed Benji, despite the way he and Benji had left things earlier, despite how hurt and confused and upset he’d been with his boyfriend for the past few days, despite how confused he had been earlier after Rahim had told him he had feelings for him and had kissed him.
“Hi,” he breathed, and Benji grimaced a little, looking down at his feet as his fingers clenched on the door.
“Hi,” Benji replied nonetheless, voice tight and low, like it always was when he was upset.
Victor swallowed thickly. “Can, uh… Can we talk?” When Benji didn’t say anything, didn’t reply or even look up, Victor’s heart clenched and he felt vaguely nauseous. “Benji, please,” he whispered. “Please.”
Benji’s fingers tightened minutely on the doorframe before he stepped aside so Victor could pass him into the house.
Victor exhaled the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding and walked inside, waiting for Benji to shut the door. “Let’s—let’s just talk my room,” Benji said stiffly, gesturing towards the stairs, and Victor offered a shy smile as he quipped, “I know you’re mad at me, but don’t think I don’t know you’re waiting for me to go first so you can look at my ass.”
Benji’s lips quivered a little, like he was holding in a laugh, shaking his head.
“I can be mad at you and still think your ass is hot, Victor,” he replied dryly. “I’m a man of many talents.”
Victor smiled and glanced at Benji from beneath his eyelashes. “I know you are.”
Benji shook his head again and gestured towards the stairs again. “Come on. You wanted to talk, so let’s talk.”
Victor nodded shakily and hurried up the stairs, walking down the familiar path to Benji’s bedroom on autopilot as he rehearsed all the things he wanted to say—all the things he needed to say—in his head as he did.
Once he was actually in Benji’s room though, once Benji had shut the door behind them, leaning back on it heavily as he looked up at Victor from underneath his eyelashes, all the words he’d wanted to say died in his throat. “I’m not sorry,” he blurted, and Benji’s eyes widened minutely before anger seeped back into his expression. “No,” Victor exclaimed, “no, wait, that came out wrong. I mean—” he sighed and shook his head again.
“I’m not sorry that I took Rahim to the wedding instead. You left me in a lurch and I asked Pilar, but she said no, so when Rahim offered, I accepted it because I didn’t want to go alone.” He looked up at Benji and winced a little at the other boy’s completely unreadable expression. “And you’re right,” he admitted. “Maybe things with Rahim weren’t exactly as platonic as I thought they were.”
Benji scoffed and Victor winced. “I know,” he sighed, “I know, I’m sorry. I didn’t—I want you to know I didn’t even consider it a real possibility until you pointed it out, until Rahim—”
“Until he what?” Benji snapped, eyes dark with anger and hurt. “Until he what, Victor?”
Victor bit harshly at his lower lip before he admitted, “He told me he had feelings for me and that he was pretty sure I had feelings for him too and… he kissed me.”
Benji inhaled sharply and turned, slamming his hand back against the door. “Great,” he choked. “Great. That’s fucking great, Vic. Is this karma for Mia? Because it’s becoming a fucking pattern.”
Victor blanched. “No. No, Benji, that’s not at all—it’s nothing like what happened between us—”
“Isn’t it?” Benji exclaimed, throwing his hands up as he turned back to Victor. He lifted one hand to point an accusing finger at him and spat, “You did the exact same thing again! How is this any different than it was then?”
“Because I’m not in love with Rahim!” Victor shouted back, stomping forward to poke a finger against Benji’s shoulder. “I’m not in love with him, and I’m not gonna pretend I could never be, that there’s nothing there that couldn’t be something if you and I hadn’t met or known each other, or if you hadn’t been here, but you are. You are here, Benji, and I do know you—and I love you.”
Benji’s eyes were shiny with unshed tears and his lower lip was trembling and Victor couldn’t tell if he was on the verge of tears because he was so pissed off or because he was hurt and it was a little scary.
Benji abruptly looked away and inhaled deeply, shaking his head, and Victor’s heart sank.
“I know you think you do,” Benji said quietly, “But damn it, Victor, do you even get why I asked you for a break in the first place? Do you even understand why I was upset?”
Victor bit his lip and hung his head a little. “I know I—I should’ve handled everything better, that I—that we somehow forgot to communicate somewhere along the way and I—I ignored it because I figured we’d be fine, but…” He shook his head. “I know I broke your trust when I told Rahim about the drinking, and I’m so sorry, Benji.”
“It’s not just that,” Benji exclaimed angrily, throwing up his hands in frustration. “I mean, it is, because I—” he looked down again. “You knew how I felt about that—I wasn’t even really ready to tell you about it, and then you went and told some guy that we’ve known for all of five minutes and I—” He ran his hand through his hair.
“It’d have been one thing if it were Felix or Pilar or even Mia, but Rahim?” Benji turned back to him with wide, tearful eyes. “You told me you’d told him and I felt like I didn’t even know you anymore, because my Victor—I couldn’t believe you’d have betrayed my trust like that. And then there was the whole thing with your mom, I just—”
“I’m sorry,” Victor blurted, reaching out for Benji’s hand tentatively. “I should’ve—” but Benji shook his head and held up his hand.
“Let me finish,” he said hoarsely. “Because this is something I should’ve been talking to you about then, and I made the mistake of not being open with you about it.” Victor shut his mouth and nodded, something in his chest loosening just a little when Benji reached out and took Victor’s hand between his anyway.
“We’ve been together for six months,” Benji continued shakily. “Six months and your mom could barely even acknowledge my existence, could barely even stomach it when I held your hand. And I knew how hard it was for you, so I tried not to let it get to me, I tried to be there for you, but then when you told me how she accepted this random friend of Pilar’s without a second’s hesitation, I—” he shook his head. “I wanted to be excited, but I was just… I was hurt. And jealous. And I hated that you couldn’t see that, that I would have to tell you that. That it just didn’t occur to you that hearing her accept someone else was going to be hurtful to me.”
Victor winced and nodded, because that was fair.
For a lot of their relationship, it’d been him leaning on Benji for support and he could see how that had gotten out of balance quickly. He’d hated that Benji hadn’t told him about the AA meetings and confided more in him, but he could also see, with the benefit of hindsight, that there hadn’t been a lot of room for him to do so.
“You’re right,” he said softly. “You’re, I’m sorry. I should’ve considered that.”
Benji nodded shakily. “And then when your mom walked in on us…” he trailed off and sighed. “I lost it. I was so—so frustrated and upset, and I took it out on her and you and I’m sorry,” he looked up at Victor with a pleading expression. “I shouldn’t have yelled at her, but it was like.... like everything I’d been wanting to say just came out all at once in this big messed up jumble of words, and then when you told me to leave it felt—it felt like you were picking her side.”
Victor hung his head.
That night had been a mess and they’d both screwed up a lot and Victor knew they should’ve done better—all of them.
“And then I told Rahim,” he whispered.
Benji nodded, “And then you told Rahim and it felt like you weren’t who I thought you were at all, like I was in love with someone who wasn’t—who wasn’t real.” He blinked hard, but a tear rolled down his cheek anyway, and Victor ached to wipe it away, but he refrained because Benji was still talking. “So I asked you for a break, because I needed some space to think, even if it felt so weird to not talk to you every hour—”
“I hated it too,” Victor cut in quietly. “Not talking to you. The only reason I hung out with Rahim was because I needed someone to distract me from… from this, from us while you were thinking about whether or not to break up with me.”
“I don’t wanna break up with you,” Benji whispered, expression devastated. “I love you. But—I don’t want to get stuck in another relationship where I’m the one doing all the giving and getting nothing in return.” He turned his amber eyes on Victor again and pleaded, “And I know you’d never make me feel like that on purpose, but—”
“But it still happened,” Victor nodded, the sick feeling in his stomach persisting.
Benji frowned and nodded.
Victor nodded too and looked down, trying to think of the best way to say what he needed to say to Benji, to show him he meant what he said. “I’m sorry I betrayed your trust,” he said quietly, sincerely, squeezing his fingers around Benji’s. “And I’m sorry I hurt you and that I didn’t listen when you tried to tell me how shitty my mom made you feel. I’m sorry that I misread what was happening with Rahim, and I’m sorry I didn’t push him away immediately when he kissed me.”
Benji made a face, but Victor continued, “I was confused, for a bit, because I—I couldn’t pretend it didn’t make me feel anything at all, but it’s not—it’s nothing like you make me feel. And when I picture my future, I can’t picture it without you. It’s always you, Benji. I love you. And I know we have so much to work through, but I’m in this with you, I promise.”
He pulled their hands to his lips and pressed a long, lingering kiss to the back of Benji’s hand.
“Please don’t give up on us,” he whispered.
Benji let out a soft breath and looked up at Victor with a soft, fragile smile. “I told you,” he said quietly. “I don’t think I could give up on us even if I wanted to.”
Victor exhaled in relief and tipped forward, leaning their heads together, pulling Benji as close as he could to breathe him in, to relish in the fact that Benji was letting him hold him, that he’d let Victor explain and apologize and that he’d apologized too.
Victor had come so close to losing him, and the fact that he could have made him feel nauseous. They weren’t okay, not yet, but they were together and they loved each other and they were going to fight like hell to make sure they gave it their best shot—they weren’t going to give up just like that.
“I love you,” he told Benji quietly.
Benji’s fingers tightened in the fabric of Victor’s shirt for a second before he replied, “I love you too.”
#love victor#love victor season 2 spoilers#venji#victor salazar#Benji campbell#fanfic#I fixed it#I think#something like this better be in season three
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