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churipu · 2 days

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Hellooo! I saw ur reqs wer open and I wanted to know if its oknif ok if u can write abt the jjk men being their for their gf's performance/exhibit for school or work when their family or friends can't make it?

(I love how how the way you write them as well! I found u through the nanami oneshot and I've just been on ur masterlist reading through all of ur fics and drabbles, esp now with me going through the same thing as above 💛)

𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐀𝐑𝐓 .ᐟ

❪ jjk men showing up in your art exhibition when nobody did ❫

────── 𝕴 . featuring. gojo satoru, nanami kento, itadori yuuji x fem! reader

────── 𝕴 . warnings. none :)

note. hi nonnie :( thank you so much for the love, i'm so sorry for the delay, i'm so sorry that happened to you. i'm 100% sure whatever you were presenting to everyone was awesome! i love you <33

𝜗𝜚 . GOJO SATORU

gojo has received your heads up regarding an art exhibit a week prior. he'd notice the way you've been very very excited about having your art work presented for people to see. and he's happy to see you happy.

he made it extra clear he wanted nothing with the jujutsu world the day your exhibit was held — all he wanted was a nice and peaceful day to spend with his partner. gojo woke up extra early to send you off, helping you get ready.

the way your smile lit up his morning, he couldn't even get back to sleep right after, seeing how happy you are with today. gojo can't even wait for the time to struck twelve for the exhibition opening, and so he got there an hour early.

he was silent with his movements, a beautiful bouquet of flowers in his grasp as he paced around the crowded area — blue eyes averting everywhere to look for you. with his height, finding you wasn't too hard for him.

pushing through oceans of humans, he stood right in front of you. the solemn look on your face doesn't go unnoticed, "hi, baby."

you look up to see him and crack a smile, "you came."

gojo grins down at you, "of course i did, can't miss my girl's exhibition, can i?" his large hand covered the top of your head, "why the frown? are you not happy to see me?"

chuckling, you shake your head, "no. my parents couldn't make it, they were too busy with work."

and you were so excited to show them your art work too. gojo didn't forget the way you rambled on about how your parents were going to love it — especially when it was dedicated to them. and they butchered it up by choosing work over you.

this time, gojo frowns along with you, "they didn't show up?"

with a shake of your head, gojo pulls you into his embrace, "i'm sorry that happened, show me everything? i arrived here an hour ago to see you, you know?"

"one hour? so early and for what?"

"to see you, silly. i couldn't wait to see all your works," he pressed his lips onto your forehead, "and this is for my beautiful girl."

he handed you the bouquet and laced his fingers with yours, "let's get some food after this? it's a date."

"it's a date!" you smiled, no longer feeling upset.

𝜗𝜚 . NANAMI KENTO

people always tell you to never get excited over small things, but you couldn't help it — the slightest things made you really happy, but at the same time, the slightest things made you sad as well.

i'm sorry, can't come to the exhibit. something came up, i'll try to swing by next time y/n! maybe next year? sorry :(

you read the text over and over again. this should be fine, (friend) was probably just busy with their day so they couldn't drop by — no matter how hard you try to convince yourself that it was fine. you didn't feel like it. they promised.

"i'm sorry i'm late, y/n."

turning around to look at the source of the voice, there stood your boyfriend. sweat dribbling down the side of his face, hair disheveled with shallow and rapid breaths. he looked like he just ran a marathon.

"kento? i thought you couldn't make it—"

nanami shook his head, "i made time for you, i will always make time for you," he gave you a small smile.

"you're not late, just in time actually," you switched your phone off, shoving it inside the back pocket of your jeans, "thank you for coming for me."

he wiped his sweat, standing up straight, stepping towards you, "where are your friends? they should be here now, are they not?"

the corner of your lips tugged downwards. it was embarrassing as it is, and now you had to tell him that they weren't coming. it's like a slap to the face, "um . . . they aren't coming. something came up, and i guess they couldn't come."

nanami's eyebrows twitched slightly, but he said nothing. his hand reached out for yours, giving it a slight squeeze, "spend the rest of your day with me?"

you blinked, "how about work?"

"don't worry about my work, you come first, understood?" he brushed his fingers through your hair, pulling you in for a brief kiss.

𝜗𝜚 . ITADORI YUUJI

maybe the fact that your parents were workaholics made you a better person. maybe the fact that your parents were workaholics pushed you to do better — like a cry for attention. but for some apparent reason, they never seemed to be satisfied with what you're doing.

"art brings you no good, what are you going to be? an artist? do you know how much they earn a year?"

don't be an artist this. don't be an artist that. it was pretty expected that your invitation for them was discarded with no thoughts behind. hell, they didn't even spare it a glance.

and yet, the little girl in you still hoped that they'd show up — even just for a while.

they didn't, it should be obvious. you saw it coming, but it still hurts anyways. however, itadori yuuji showed up; and he was like a ball of sunshine, so you couldn't help but to be happy as well. especially with how packed his schedule is, he still made the time to stop by.

"baby!"

"yuuji!"

he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you into a tight hug, carrying you around with ease, "sorry i came a little late, kugisaki needed me to bring her shopping bags back to the cab. where are your parents? they should be here, right?"

right. they should have.

"no, they didn't come," you murmured into the crook of his neck before pulling your head back with a sad smile plastered to your face, "but i'm okay, you're here now!"

yuuji puckered his lips out slightly, "i'm going to pester gojo-sensei to let me off for the rest of the day, i need to be here with you."

you shake your head, "you can't, what if you have a mission?"

"fushiguro can take over, pretty. don't worry about my missions," yuuji replied, nuzzling his nose to the side of your face, "plus, how can i leave you alone here, huh?"

"you're the sweetest, yuuji. but what if it's an important mission?" you pinched his cheeks gently, pulling them.

"fushiguro can take over, he's strong. and there's kugisaki, and the second year students. they'll manage," he retorted, pecking your cheek before letting you down.

"you're too nice, yuuji."

"i love you. and show me your works, i can't wait to see them, you know? kugisaki wanted pictures!"

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #fluff #gojo satoru #gojo fluff #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #nanami kento #nanami fluff #nanami kento x reader #nanami x reader #itadori yuuji #itadori fluff #itadori yuuji x reader #itadori x reader

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pathologicalreid · 12 hours

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don't say nothing | S.R.

gemini part two

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: smut (18+ mdni) content warnings: softdom!spencer, "good girl" (you can tear it out of my cold dead hands), alcohol, fwb, oral fixation, consent, idiots in love, praise kink, gun violence, jealous spencer? unprotected pinv sex, word count: 3.73k a/n: posting smut twice in a row who the fuck am i?? anyways, everyone's favorite idiots in love are back. i used the song don't say nothing by del water gap to provide me with inspiration.

part one

please say something, cause I've been growing lonesomer each day

Penelope threw her arms up in frustration as you walked through the front door of O’Keefe’s, “I was beginning to think you were ditching us.” She got up from the booth, letting you slide in so that you were next to the wall – across the table from Spencer.

Things with him were as awkward as ever. The two of you were like a rubber band getting stretched, every time the tension became too much, you snapped and ended up in bed together - or in the academy showers, but that was just the one time. Looking at him now, the rubber band felt taut.

“I took the liberty of getting you this,” Garcia announced, a broad smile on her face as she pushed the glass toward you.

Raising your eyebrows, you eyed the beverage suspiciously before taking a tentative sip. An undetermined liquor slid down your throat as you tried to hide the distaste from your expression. Penelope had a taste for sweet, sugary drinks, it was the main reason she usually ended up puking first at girls’ night.

Spencer noted the look on your face, discreetly sliding his glass of water toward you. Thank you, you mouthed to him, earning a slight smile in return. “So, where’s this friend of a friend that you’re trying to set Y/N up with?” Luke asked, standing at the open end of the table.

In your periphery, you saw the smile immediately drop off Spencer’s face. Feeling his eyes on you, you shifted on the supple leather of the booth and looked over at Penelope.

“He said he’d show up later,” she said, lifting her own glass to her lips and sipping out of the straw.

That was enough for you to know that it would never work between the two of you. You needed someone who was punctual. Someone who wouldn’t ghost you at the last moment. Huffing, you sat back in the seat, wondering how long you’d have to stay out before it was socially acceptable to go home.

You took about thirty minutes before asking your teammates to let you out of the booth under the guise of needing fresh air. Luke asked if you wanted to move out to the patio, but you waved him off before walking out the front door.

The spring air kissed your skin as you avoided pedestrians until you made it to the outer wall of the bar, leaning against the cool bricks and sighing.

“Are you alright?” Spencer asked, walking out of the bar, and approaching you.

Avoiding eye contact, you watched people’s shoes as they walked by – heels, sneakers, sandals. “I’m fine, Spence,” you answered simply as your heart begged you to meet his hazel eyes.

You closed your eyes as he reached out, gingerly placing his hand flat on your ribcage. “You had a close call last week,” he said matter-of-factly, referring to a shot you had taken to the chest while on a case last week.

Shrugging, you opened your eyes again, “I was wearing my vest, barely even hurts anymore.” Spencer had been on sabbatical at the time, but he still came to visit you during your overnight stay in the hospital. You were left with a gnarly bruise to the ribs, and Emily had benched you for two weeks.

Tired of your refusal to meet his eyes, Spencer hooked a finger beneath your chin, lifting it until you could make out the gold of his eyes. He looked through the window of the bar, checking for something before he tugged you further from the glass. You didn’t have the time to ask him what he was looking for before his lips were on yours in the alleyway.

Spencer Reid had a habit of kissing you like you were a last meal, with open, messy kisses that made your lovelorn chest ache.

“Garcia’s friend didn’t show up?” He asked, pulling away from you just enough to get the words out.

Shaking your head, you reached up a hand and threaded your fingers through his hair, “Nope.” You cocked your head to the side as the two of you fell into your familiar pattern, “I’m glad I didn’t agree to the date. Could’ve been a fatal blow to my self-esteem,” you told him while thinking of a good way to navigate your current situation.

He also had a habit of making your mind go blank when his lips were on you, and you almost lost it when he groaned against your mouth, “His loss.”

Your breath hitched when he used his knee to part your legs, placing an agonizing pressure on your sex as you resisted the urge to grind on his thigh.

“Hey, Y/N?” He murmured in your ear before pressing gentle kisses on the side of your throat.

Humming, you bit your lip, “Yeah?”

Detaching his lips from the soft skin of your neck, Spencer pulled away to look at you, “Thank you for not agreeing to the date.”

Your body slouched against the wall, “I can’t do this again,” you confessed. The words slipped out of your mouth too easily for it to be a lie, even if you never meant for them to come out.

Spencer took a step back, removing himself from you entirely, “What do you mean?” He asked, watching as you frantically smoothed down the front of your dress and caught your breath.

“Why do I keep doing this to myself?” You muttered helplessly, once again averting your eyes from the man standing in front of you. Taking a shaky breath, your heart pounded so violently in your chest that you thought it might burst.

Catching out at you, he firmly placed his hands on either side of your waist before you could walk away from him. “Baby, what are you talking about?” He asked you urgently.

There it was again, baby. It was like a key in a lock, causing everything to pour out of you. “I can’t stop thinking about you. Isn’t that funny? You’re there, haunting my every move, and none of me occupies even a fragment of your mind.”

Recognition flashed in his eyes as he processed what you were saying to him, “It’s me?” He said, hazel eyes flickering over your face.

“Of course, it’s you, Spencer,” you said exasperatedly, afraid of years of longing coming out in a random alleyway in the district. Tears pricked at your eyes as you silently pleaded for him to say something.

Bewilderment was pasted on his face as he opened his mouth to speak, shut it, and then opened it again. “The person. Your one person that you’d say yes to. I’m your one.” He clarified, trying to get a hold on the situation.

Nodding miserably, you reached up and placed your hand over your heart as if you could staunch your bleeding heart, “You’re my one, and every time we’re together, you’re thinking about someone else.” It wasn’t an accusation; you knew he had feelings for someone else. He had told you just as much at Dave and Krystall’s wedding. Two months ago. Wiping underneath your eyes, you gathered whatever was left of your dignity and walked away from the situation.

As you walked back to your car, you were vaguely aware of people staring at you. You knew that you had played just as big of a role in your own destruction as Spencer had, maybe even more. You never should’ve had sex at the wedding, but you had sought comfort in one another.

Fishing around in your purse, you pulled your keys out, only for them to be scooped from your hands. “Hey!” You shouted in frustration, gaining the attention of passersby as they wondered whether or not they needed to call 911 or stay out of a lover’s quarrel. Shooting daggers at Spencer, you refrained from stomping your foot in frustration lest you look like a petulant child. “Give me my keys, Spencer,” you insisted, holding your hand out impatiently.

“Not until you talk to me,” he responded. He was out of breath, meaning he had run to catch up with you – a feat in and of itself.

You crossed your arms in front of your chest, “There’s nothing left to talk about, Spencer.”

He took a moment to catch his breath before looking around, “There is everything to talk about. I have to talk to you.”

Weighing your options, you reached out for your car keys, which he let you take, and unlocked the car. “Get in,” you offered halfheartedly, wiping your cheeks before getting into the driver’s seat.

Silently, you started the drive, taking a right onto the next street. “This isn’t the way to your apartment,” Spencer observed anxiously.

You shook your head as you turned on your turn signal to merge onto the highway, “No, it’s the way to yours.”

Residences had been off-limits during your illicit affair, but each member of the BAU had the ability to get to each other’s homes. It was more of a safety concern than anything else. Since you’d never been to Spencer’s apartment before, you needed him to guide you through the lobby and up the stairs. To your chagrin, he did that by taking your hand in his and having you follow him.

Looking around once he unlocked the door, the first thing you noticed was that the space was so… Spencer. From the green walls to the stained-glass window to the piles of books, it all just seemed so fitting for him. “Sit,” he said with an authoritative tone as he made his way back to the kitchen, returning with two glasses of water.

“What do you want to say, Reid?” You said, leaning back in an armchair as you looked over at him, taking calculated breaths.

Disappointment filled his eyes, “Don’t call me that.” There was something in his eyes that resembled fear, but you couldn’t quite place the reason.

Narrowing your gaze, you tilted your head to the side and feigned ignorance, “Everyone calls you that.” You challenged, even though you supposed it wasn’t true.

“You don’t,” he responded simply. It was true, over the years you had never called him Reid. Dr. Reid and Spencer Reid, yes, but never just Reid. To you, he had always been Spencer or Spence. “When you do it, it feels so… impersonal. Detached.”

You blinked, not expecting him to have said that. Your relationship with Reid had always been personal. From back when you were just friends to whatever miscellany of emotions you had now. “I didn’t mean for it to be,” you admitted defeatedly, fiddling with the buttons on your cardigan. Although maybe you had intended to detach yourself from the situation by referring to him with a name that felt less personal.

In your periphery, you saw him looking dejectedly at you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to meet his eyes. “Will you please look at me?”

Swallowing thickly, you closed your eyes, “I can’t.” Your voice was no more than a whisper as you admitted the truth, one look in his eyes, and you’d break your heart even worse.

“At first, I thought it was easier for me to just say I was interested in someone else because I was under the impression that you were interested in another man,” Spencer told you candidly. “My idea was that I could keep you close to me until you felt ready to move on, and that would just have to be enough.”

Staring blankly ahead of you, you reached out to grab your water from the coffee table, taking small sips as you struggled to digest what he was saying to you.

You shut your eyes tightly at the vulnerability in the room, opening them to find Spencer knelt in front of you. “What I didn’t realize was that a fraction of you would never be enough, not for me.”

Burying your face in your hands, you avoided his eyes as the gravity of his admission weighed down your shoulders. “Spence,” you begged. He needed to stop. He was toeing the point of no return.

“I am so devastatingly in love with you,” he admitted. “I didn’t know how deeply it ran until the wedding, but I just couldn’t get myself to let you go.”

Spencer pried your hands off of your face, revealing teary eyes. You let your body slide off the chair until you knelt in front of him, knee to knee. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, you leaned forward and pressed your lips to his.

Quickly, he wrapped his arms tightly around you, pulling your body flush against his, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you answered, surprised at how easily the words rolled off of your tongue. Taking your time, you slung one arm over his shoulder, reaching the other up so you could put your hand in his hair. You relished in his groan as you tugged lightly at the strands.

You couldn’t help the whine that passed through your lips as he pulled away from you. He got to his feet before helping you up, and once you were standing, his lips were back on yours.

Leading you to what you assumed was his bedroom, you felt your blood heat up as he pushed your cardigan off of your shoulders. As you reached up to undo the buttons on his shirt, you grinned against his lips.

Sat on the edge of his bed, you parted your knees and pulled his shirt from where it was tucked into his pants before fumbling with his belt buckle. Disconnecting your lips so that you could look at what you were doing, he took the opportunity to duck his head and take your earlobe between his teeth. As he nipped at the soft skin, goosebumps spread where you were bare, leaving you in need of more. More of him.

Once you got his belt undone, you made quick work of the button and zipper on his slacks, sliding them down over his hips and ass while his hands made their way up your dress. “Spence,” you said breathlessly, trying to push his pants further down. Understanding your plea, he stepped out of them entirely, kicking them to the side.

Spencer drew away from you just enough to tug your dress off of your body, tossing it off to the side and gently guiding you so that your back was flat against the mattress. You watched in anticipation as he pulled his t-shirt off, the movement allowing for the tip of his cock to peek over the elastic of his boxers. “You’re so pretty,” he muttered, the softness of the words taking you by surprise, “Always so pretty for me, baby.” He gently traced his finger over your bruise as a shadow of worry crossed his features, but it was gone as quickly as it showed up.

His words spurred you on to pull at his underwear, trying to take them off, but you simply didn’t have the arm span to do it on your own. “I wanna touch you,” you confessed, “Can I touch you?”

“I need to be in you,” Spencer answered, pulling his boxers off before kneeling in front of you, eyes widening when your legs fell open. Expertly, he hooked his fingers in the sides of your underwear, dragging them off in one swift motion and leaving the both of you completely bare.

Your mouth parted when his hand reached your wet heat and two fingers entered you tantalizingly slowly. “I thought- ah- no touching,” you complained. It was a halfhearted complaint because really, there was nothing to be bothered by.

Reaching down, your hand grabbed his wrist, trying to slow his ministrations. “You’re so responsive for me,” he murmured, continuing to move his fingers in and out of you and watching in fascination as your hips bucked off of the mattress involuntarily.

“Fuck,” You said, screwing your eyes shut as that all too familiar knot started to form in your lower belly. “Spence, baby- I’ll…” A low whine escaped your throat as he withdrew his fingers from your core. “Spencer,” you said in frustration, opening your eyes to see him inspecting your slick that had been left on his fingers.

Like a rehearsed routine, he placed his hand in front of your face, prompting you to incline your head forward and wrap your lips around his index and middle finger. As you swirled your tongue around his fingers, he watched you with an undying interest. “Good girl,” he muttered, the praise causing your sensitive cunt to clench around nothing.

Taking his hand back, you looked down as he used his now free hand to line his cock up with your entrance. Laying one of your hands at the side of your head, he used his other hand to intertwine your fingers before he pushed into you. Instead of tossing your head back like you normally would, you looked up at him, watching as he hilted himself in you. “Spencer,” you whispered.

“Are you alright?” He asked, checking in with you as he placed his free hand on the other side of your head.

You nodded quickly, “It just feels different this time.” Your heart clenched at your own admission. You weren’t using each other as an escape anymore.

Spencer hummed in understanding, leaning down and pressing a tender kiss to your lips. “I love you,” he whispered, “I love you so much.”

Your breath hitched as he tentatively thrust in you like he was testing the waters. “I love you,” you responded in kind, your voice higher than usual.

The response was enough encouragement for Spencer to keep going, he tucked his face in the crook of your neck, gently biting the skin as he set the pace. Small gasps escaped your throat every time his hips met yours.

As usual, your sounds spurred him on, seemingly trying to make you as vocal as possible, he used one hand to reach up and grope your breast. While his fingers pinched at your nipple, you wrapped your legs around his torso, locking your ankles together behind him. He lifted his head, moving his lips against yours in hurried, messy kisses that only aided the knot building in your stomach.

You didn’t have the capacity to warn him before you came undone beneath him, your orgasm coming over you as you whined into his mouth. Your walls clenched around him so tightly that Spencer had a hard time keeping his pace before it became too much.

Sighing contentedly as he filled you, you ran your hands down his back as he continued working through both of your orgasms. You whimpered as he continued fucking his cum into your oversensitive hole until your head went fuzzy, “Spence.”

He stuttered to a stop, staying inside of you for just a beat under he pulled out, causing you to flinch as you were left empty. “Are you alright?” He asked, still breathing heavily – not that you were faring much better.

Nodding, you blinked rapidly as your lungs tried to catch up with the rest of you, “I’m perfect,” you answered dazedly.

Spencer smiled at you, “You are. Perfect, that is.” He sat next to you on the bed, placing a hand on your bare hip, affectionately dragging his fingers over the skin. “You need to go pee,” he said suddenly, furrowing his brows at you.

You couldn’t help it as you erupted in a fit of giggles, resulting in an adorably confused look from Spencer. “Sorry, it’s just you telling me that I need to go pee – it’s funny,” you told him, biting your lip to muffle your laugh.

“Have you not been peeing after sex?” He was clearly appalled as if the idea of you not peeing after sex was abhorrent to him.

Rolling your eyes, you propped yourself up on your elbows, “Of course, I pee after sex, Dr. Reid,” you put extra emphasis on his honorific. “And I will pee just as soon as I’m sure my legs aren’t going to give out of me when I stand up,” you explained to him, reaching out and placing a hand on his knee.

He looked at you seriously, “You know, there are some studies that say the sooner after sex you urinate the less likely you are to contract a UTI.”

“Oh my god,” you said, “Don’t say the word urinate at me while I’m naked in your bed.” You complained, clambering up and making sure you were steady before you walked to the ensuite.

Later on, you were laying in bed next to Spencer, your head was resting on his chest while he kept you tucked into his side. You flinched as a phone started ringing, you sat up and looked around for your phone. Please don’t be a case, you silently hoped as you searched the sheets for your phone.

Once you finally grabbed it, you saw Penelope’s contact flashing across the screen. Swiping the screen, you put the phone up to your ear, hearing loud music on the other end of the call. “Hey, Penny,” you said, smiling as Spencer reached out and pulled you back into him.

You adjusted your t-shirt over your skin, having made Spencer go out to your car for your go-bag so that you could have clean clothes to sleep in. He slipped his hand under the cotton of your shirt, placing his hand flat on your bare skin. You tried to greet Penelope again when she doesn’t respond.

“Hey!” Her voice chimed in through the speaker, “Where’d you go? Jason just got here!”

Frowning, you pulled your phone away and looked at the time – just past eleven o’clock. You sighed, letting your body meld into Spencer’s, “Tell him that someday he’ll find a girl with equally as atrocious time management skills as him.”

You heard some rambling on the other side of the call, and wondered how many members of the BAU made it out this late. “Okay, but where are you?”

Humming, you peered up at Spencer who had, unsurprisingly, pulled out a book to read before bed. “I’m right where I need to be,” you told her earnestly, wondering if she could hear your voice's smile as Spencer kissed your forehead softly.

tagged, if you asked for a part two: @donttrustlove @jumpingjackalope @bippityboppityboob1tch @makingbloodbaths1 @sammyreidslut

@evvy96 @mus3y @nnab @basicallynotbreathing @hell0kitty11

@tatilolz @radioactiveinvisible @lamentis-10 @k-corbett @discotitsposts

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aethelwyneleigh27 · 11 hours

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Brainrot of how Simon "Ghost" Riley and John "Soap" MacTavish both have a wives and a baby but somehow end up with babies who are complete opposite.

Simon's little baby is this giggly absolutely talkative baby who frankly felt like inherited nothing of Simon's personality at all. Little thing was just this bubbly thing that brought out the best in Simon.

They were too curious for his liking though, it felt as if the whole house needed to be made out of pure cotton blankets. Extreme clinginess as well, would not let go of Simon shirt that he was terrified it would rip.

Johnny's baby was the exact definition of nonchalant, they were silent yet interactive. All the while Soap does all the talking, the baby just sits there and stares at him with their huge eyes making him wonder if they were processing anything he was saying, occasional grabby hands too.

Always praising and very involveds Johnny sets up playdates. It was kinda upsetting for him to see his baby not going after him, following him around begging to be carried like Simon's kid who's basically a Velcro baby.

Though it was interesting to see the two babies essentially balance each other out. Especially at nap time when the two little ones just unknowingly cuddle up each other.

A/n: OMG I've been gone for almost two weeks and apologies for that, with my birthday 4 days ago and my prom night yesterday, it was a heck of a time. There's so many impending school works for me to catch up on. I missed you guys so much, something in my prom night happened that's worth writing about thanks to a friend of mine saving me from a creep. I feel like it would fit a Royalty/Fantasy fake dating AU.

Taglist: @wishesforyou @puff0o0 @simping4konig @simp4konig @blingblong55 @azereus @rustic-guitar-notes @shadofireshinobi @thelightdjinnofpalestine @09maruchan @anonymuslydumb @skeletalgoats @icarustypicalfall @ghosts-cyphera @connorsui @capuccino192 @miss-gms-and-the-rotten-womb @celestialhole @the-second-sage @starryylies @everlastingmoonlightsworld @keiva1000 @iexiam @drewsmusee @konigceo

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aperrywilliams · 2 days

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It Was Horrible Until It Wasn't (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)

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Author Masterlist

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Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader.

Summary: Reader comes up to her apartment after Spencer walks her home from the diner, where they spend the last couple of hours. She is still processing the night and wonders if they will meet again. Another fortuitous event makes that happen. In which terms they will part ways again?

Word Count: 5.1k

Warnings: Mention of guns (tests to carry a gun). Mention to Reader's ex. Some strong words? IDK what else. If I forgot something, let me know.

A/N: I got very excited after your reactions and comments to "If Anything, I Find it Educative." So this is kind of part two, from Reader's perspective. I'm not convinced about a series yet, even if I have some ideas. What would you like to see if it happens?

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Reader's POV

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As I open the door, a bunch of cardboard boxes scattered on the floor greets me. That reminds me that I haven't unpacked all my things yet.

I've only been living here for two weeks, and I'm still getting used to the idea that this is my new home.

It doesn't feel like it yet.

But the boxes will be a problem for tomorrow. Now, I only want to take off these high heels and this fancy dress and call it a night - a pretty eventful night.

Not only did I have to confront my ex with his new girlfriend, but I also had to pretend I was okay with it. But how did I expect to do that? Did I genuinely think two months would be enough to be outside again to prove I got myself up?

How naive of me.

I make a beeline to my bedroom, not even bothering to look at the rest of the apartment.

Again, it's tomorrow's problem.

Retreating my phone from my purse, I plug it to charge over my bedside table as I strip from my clothes and go to the bathroom to do my nightly routine.

The entire time, my mind doesn't stop wandering. At some point, it settles on the girl I helped from choking. It was a total coincidence for me to be there. I only approached the bar for another drink when I heard that man rambling. I don't know why my ear perked up, but it did. When I look to find the voice's source, my eyes land on the man and the girl by his side.

He was talking as if the world would end if he didn't, and the girl only eyed him from head to toe, clearly not giving a damn what he was saying. I kept subtly listening to them while sipping my drink. The guy's voice had something enchanting. I would have heard him talk for hours if it were from me. It was a bad thing his interlocutor wasn't so receptive, and when she occasionally said something, it was a flirting remark that only made him uncomfortable.

What a shame.

When I noticed her fighting to breathe, swatting her hands in desperation, and the poor guy froze on the spot, I knew I needed to do something.

I didn't think much of it and wrapped my arms around her torso to help her. It worked. The oyster she choked with flew into the air, and she could breathe again.

But the next thing I knew, her palm connected to the man's cheek.

The poor guy seemed so confused, and the people talking around didn't help either. What a shitty situation. And as the good citizen I am, I tried to do something about it, only to get lashed out by the same woman I just saved from choking.

Fuck it.

Seeing the people's attention returned to them, I walked away. That wasn't my fight in the first place.

Returning from the bathroom, I hear my phone ding. It's a text from my friend Andie.

Andie: How did the gala turn out? Did you see him? He was with her, right?

Andie had insisted on me not going to the gala, although I repeated to her several times that it was okay, that nothing would happen, and that I couldn't hide forever.

Me: You were right. I wasn't ready.

It's a defeat I must recognize. I wasn't prepared to see them.

Andie: My girl, I'm so sorry. It must have been awful for you.

It was, but it doesn't mean the night was a disaster.

Me: It was horrible until it wasn't. I can tell you more tomorrow. Now, I only want to go to bed.

Andie: You have me a bit confused here, but okay. I'll call you tomorrow. Sleep tight; I love you.

I return my phone to the charger and slip under the covers.

It was horrible until it wasn't.

I keep thinking about that. And a smile tugs the corner of my lips. Since Spencer - the guy who got slapped by the oyster-choked girl - approached me at the terrace, the night wasn't that awful anymore.

Who would have thought I would end my night in a diner, dressed to the nines and spouting details of my messy life to a stranger?

Monday morning comes faster than I wanted.

I spent my Sunday mostly unpacking boxes and tidying my apartment, and now, with a coffee in hand, I cross the hall to my office on the third floor of the FBI building in Quantico.

Some colleagues greet me as I pass by. I return them with a polite smile. I saw a couple of them at the gala on Saturday. I only hope they didn't notice the wreck I was that night.

On my desk, a pile of hundreds of manila folders are waiting for me.

This Monday will be a blast.

Dutifully, I reach for the first folder to start my work, as my ear perks up to two colleagues' conversation about the gala.

"Did you see them? Those hot chicks from Counterterrorism?" a male colleague says to another.

"Yeah. I heard one of them was hitting on Reid from the BAU. What a waste!" The other adds.

"And the lucky bastard wasn't able to take her home. His nerdy charm didn't even help him with that."

The mention of the BAU brings Spencer to my mind again. And I realize I don't even know his last name.

I don't think I need to know, but I can't stop my fingers from typing 'Spencer FBI BAU' on my computer.

My findings make the conversation between my colleagues intriguing. They were precisely talking about Spencer, Spencer Reid, and the girl with him at the gala. Clearly, the incident did not go unnoticed.

I don't like the tone they refer to him, either. I do not know the guy well, but I'm sure he's way better than any of the men at the venue that night.

Are you hearing yourself (Y/N)? That kind of blind trust put you in this situation with your ex in the first place.

I shouldn't grant credibility so fast, but honestly? Spencer seems to be everything but a threat. The things he said, the way he spoke. Anyway, I should stop thinking about that if I want to finish some work. Yeah, that's what I need to do.

Drowning out the noise, I return to the opened folder and continue working.

Some would ask how a task as monotonous as the one I'm doing now could be appealing to someone. The appeal for me comes from how everything fits in the right places and serves a purpose. That's enough for me, even if some people don't understand it.

My ex didn't. And as him, many others.

I'm still fighting to ease the effects their judgments had on me.

Around lunchtime, stopping the papers review, I pick up my phone to check my messages. Yesterday, I promised Andie I would have lunch with her today, so I'm checking for her confirmation and a place to meet.

Just in time, a text comes. She is free right now and suggests a restaurant just outside the building.

"Hey, girl! I'm glad you made it," she greets me as I spot her on one of the tables.

"Of course. I promised I would."

Lunchtime is only one hour, so we order quickly and go straight to the matter.

"I can't believe the son of the bitch decided to go and show off his new conquest," Andie huffs.

"Not that new, considering she has been sleeping with him in what used to be my bed at least a month before I discovered it," I correct with an annoyed look.

It's good to say these things without crying my eyes out anymore.

I tell Andie more details about how it went to share a space packed with mutuals around us and try to stay composed.

"But at some point, I just couldn't. So I retracted to the bar. I only wanted to grab a drink and be alone."

Andie nods in understanding.

"I don't blame you. So you were at the bar when you crossed to the girl to whom you did Heimlich?"

Yesterday, by phone, I told Andie the main facts regarding that, and after laughing for a solid five minutes about the whole ordeal, she made me promise to reveal more details in our lunch meeting.

That's why I'm describing what happened piece by piece.

"She slapped the guy? And she yelled at you? What a bitch! But I don't understand why he apologized on her behalf."

"Honestly? I didn't understand it, but it made sense after talking with him. The guy felt responsible, even if it wasn't related to him. It was the fact that someone had to do the right thing," I explain, with my eyes fixed on my water glass, recalling Spencer's words from that night.

I can't help but feel some fondness for his genuine worry. Andie raises an eyebrow and hums.

"The guy made a good impression on you, I see."

Andie's tone is teasing, and I know exactly where she is heading.

"Come on, don't start with that," I warn her. I'm not thoroughly annoyed, but I'm not in the mood for teasing. Andie scoffs.

"I'm just saying it's good to know there are men out there that give hopes up. That's all!"

"Sure," I mumble, not very convinced by her explanation.

The rest of our lunch follows a similar tone. When I finish telling Andie about Spencer walking me home, I know she is biting her tongue to say something to taunt me, but she holds back and opts for a question.

"Do you think you'll see him again?"

I ponder my answer. I don't know, although I remember Spencer asking, 'See you around?'

That doesn't mean we agreed to see each other again, even if I said, 'Sure, why not?'

Did Spencer mean that? Did he want to see me again?

"I don't know. Maybe. We both work in this building, so there are chances, I guess," I shrug. Andie narrows her eyes.

"But do you want to?"

That's a question I don't know how to answer, so I take some seconds to think about it.

"Let's say I'm not opposed to the idea."

A reply that could be an understatement. But not I'm telling Andie that.

She doesn't press on the matter, though. And I'm grateful she doesn't.

Now it's time to go back to work. We walk out of the restaurant to our building and separate ways at the elevator. Andie continues to the eighth floor when I hop off on the third.

Returning to my desk, I continue checking the folders piled on my desk, and my mind only focuses on that, knowing if I don't, there is no chance of getting this stack finished.

----

A good thing about the week progressing is nobody talking anymore about the damn gala. It's been a nightmare since Monday when everyone had to mention something about it. That included comments about me facing my ex there.

Of course, it was public knowledge I was dating an agent of the Criminal Investigative Division. Also, it became public knowledge he cheated on me with his current girlfriend from Counterterrorism.

But finally, it is Thursday, and everything seems to have returned to normal, so much so that the amount of work has increased exponentially. That's why I'm still at the office at seven pm.

I only assume it's time to go home when my boss pokes out of his office and calls for Andrew, one of our coworkers who distributes files and memos to the other departments.

I turn around, and it's only me at this hour. My boss notices the vacant office and is now talking to me.

"I guess I have to ask you to do this. Can you go to the sixth and drop this to Aaron Hotchner's office? I would have waited until tomorrow for Andrew, but this must be at his desk today."

I don't think I have a choice, so I pick the folder, promising to drop it before going home.

With my coat and purse, I grab the folder and stroll to the elevator.

I have been working here for four years and know every financial detail of each Quantico department, but I still need to recognize all department locations in this facility. So, floors are just floors, except the eight where Andie works.

Arriving at my destination, I walk into a bullpen, where I can see a lot of desks and offices. And just like my floor, it is almost empty. Anyway, I see one of the offices with lights on. My instinct tells me that's the place I'm looking for, and the plaque at the door confirms my suspicions: SSA Aaron Hotchner.

"Come in," a voice comes from the office when I knock.

Peeking inside, a stern-looking man is glancing in my direction. "Can I help you?" he asks with a slight frown.

"Yes, sir. I'm with the Finance Division, and my boss asked me to bring this to you," I explain as I reach out to hand him the folder. When he grabs it, realization washes over the man.

"Of course. Thank you very much-" Agent Hotchner trails off.

"(Y/L/N)," I supply, knowing he wants my last name.

"Thank you very much, Agent (Y/L/N)."

Weird.

Everyone in the finance and administrative department refers to each other only by last name. We use the 'agent' thing mainly with those who do the fieldwork, and we are used to that.

"You're welcome, Agent Hotchner," I smile politely, ready to leave the man's office. He nods approvingly.

"Hotch, sorry for interrupting you, but I'm ready with my report. I thought you wanted it-"

A man talks, entering abruptly at the office. He stops in his tracks when he sees Agent Hotchner isn't alone.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know you were with someone. I can come back later," he apologizes.

Wait. I know that voice.

I turn, and I see Spencer standing there. His eyes meet mine, and I feel my cheeks burn. He doesn't say anything but doesn't tear his eyes from mine.

I don't know how many seconds pass, but it's enough for Agent Hotchner to intervene.

"Reid?" he calls Spencer's attention.

"Uh?"

"The report. It's okay; you can give it to me," he tells Spencer, not without subtly bouncing his gaze between us.

"Oh. Okay." Spencer approaches Hotchner's desk, but he still directs glances at me. I want to say hi to him properly, but it doesn't feel okay knowing the man in front of us is undoubtedly his boss. I don't want him to feel uncomfortable. So, I take that as my cue to leave.

"If you excuse me," I tell Agent Hotchner, signaling my departure. Spencer looks at me, and I give him a subtle smile.

"Of course. Thank you again, Agent (Y/L/N)."

"To you, sir. Have a good evening."

I walk down the stairs to the open bullpen and toward the elevator.

Before I can push the go-down button, a voice calls my name. It's Spencer's.

"(Y/N), wait!"

I turn and see him trotting towards me.

"Hi!" he says once we are face to face.

Now I feel bad. Spencer comes here to say hi, and I didn't greet him properly just two minutes ago.

"Spencer, hi. I'm sorry, I should have said something there, but I didn't know if you wanted him to know- I mean, I supposed he was your boss, and I-"

What's wrong with me?

Why can't I explain myself without stumbling with my words?

"No. No. Don't apologize. It's okay. I should have told you something, too. But I didn't expect to see you here."

"Me neither. My boss sent me here instead of one of my coworkers, who left early. I didn't know this was the BAU floor. What a coincidence, uh?" I play cool, shifting my weight from one foot to another. Spencer nods in agreement.

"Totally. It's good to see you, though. I hoped we could cross paths again."

Isn't it weird that his words have produced a funny tingle in my stomach right now?

"Is that so?" I half-breath, noticing his cheeks turn a shade of pink.

"Yes. I mean, I truly enjoyed talking to you that night," he sheepishly admits.

I more than enjoyed it, Spencer.

"Yeah, me too."

Silence sets between us. And it's time to make a decision. I could say I go home and leave him with a lukewarm 'See you around,' or say I'm leaving, but before doing so, give Spencer my number so we can talk soon. Or...

"Are you busy right now? I'm heading home now, but if you can and want, we can go for a coffee."

Wow (Y/N). Very smooth. I like you smooth.

Spencer's eyes widened, and I wondered for a second if my offer was too straightforward.

"If you have plans, it's okay. We don't have to," I relent.

"Oh, no. I don't. And I would love to go for a coffee with you," Spencer hastens to say. I release a breath I didn't know I was holding.

"Yeah?"

"Sure! If you wait for me just a second, I'll pick my things from my desk, and we can go."

----

This time, it's my turn to pick the place.

It's a small coffee shop in the middle of Virginia, just mid-way between Quantico and my apartment.

As we get on the train, I ask Spencer about Agent Hotchner.

"Hotch? Well, he has been at the unit for twelve years now. Gideon, a former agent, told me once he didn't expect Hotch to last long in the BAU. But he proved him wrong. Indeed, Gideon left, and Hotch stayed. Honestly, I can't picture the BAU with another unit chief."

There is a fondness when Spencer talks about Hotchner. I can tell he sees him more than as a superior.

"What about yours?"

Now is my turn to talk about my boss.

"Agent Williams? He is a bureaucrat from head to toe. He had just transferred from another administrative department when I joined the financial division four years ago. At that time, he had ten years working with the FBI. The guy is a genius but lacks social skills. I'm not judging him; I'm a bit like him. But in his position, he needs to make politics, which involves talking and convincing people."

The conversation with Spencer flows so well and easily that I'm as impressed as I was the night of the gala.

When we reach the coffee shop, we sit facing each other. After ordering our coffee, we start talking about our coworkers.

"So Garcia is our technical analyst. I have to say she is like the team's heart. Besides her outstanding skills, her compassion and care are something out of this world," Spencer admits, and again, I feel the fondness in his voice.

"She seems very special," I add. Spencer nods.

"Very. I don't know what it's like to have a sister, but if I had one, I would have liked someone like her.

So he doesn't have a sister. Does he have brothers, though? We have yet to talk about our families, so this is the first piece of information I get about it.

"What about the guy who came to check what was happening with your girl at the gala?" I ask, and Spencer scoff.

"First of all, Ashley isn't my girl. I think she made it pretty clear that night. And secondly, the guy in question is Morgan, the culprit of why I was with Ashley in the first place."

That's interesting. I want to know more about that.

"How is that?" I ask, sipping my coffee.

Spencer tells me how Morgan insisted they talk to the girls - Ashley and her friends - and how he reluctantly followed him.

I'm about to make a not-so-kind remark when Spencer gets ahead of me.

"I know it may seem like he is a thoughtless person, but he truly means well. I can't entirely agree with his tactics most of the time, but he's right when he tells me I should enjoy more and work less."

"It's safe to say you weren't 'enjoying' that much there," I quip, air-quoting the word 'enjoying.' Spencer chuckles.

"Yeah. Honestly? I have more fun when Morgan kicks doors down in our field chases than when he tries to play wingman for me."

What? Kick doors down?

"Wait a minute. Are you telling me that the FBI had to spend thousands of dollars in repairs for third parties last year because of him?"

I know I'm being dramatic. It's impossible that just one agent destroyed that amount of dollars by kicking doors. But still.

Spencer's eyes widen.

"What? No! I mean, yes. He does that, but thousands of dollars? Last time I checked, doors are not that expensive."

I roll my eyes. That's not the point.

"Okay. I know it's not only Agent Morgan's doing, but did you know the buro's budget had increased by 4% last year due to refunds for field operations? And did you know 70% of that increase refers to agents shattering private property?"

Now, I sound like my boss. Great. I became what I swore to destroy.

Spencer looks at me with amusement. I narrow my eyes to him. "What?"

He clears his throat. "Oh. No, nothing. It's just - well, it's fascinating to hear you talking about - uh - numbers."

I can't help but snort. "Come on, how fascinating that can be?"

Spencer grins. "If anything, I find it educative," he parrots my words from that night, and we fall into a fit of laughs.

"Yeah?" I muse after the laughter subsides. Spencer nods, still a smile gracing his face.

Gosh, that smile.

"Well, I can talk about numbers all day. But I'm sure you don't want me to 'fascinate' you that much."

Spencer hums, faking be pondering his options.

"Don't tempt me. I like to know and talk about everything. But before returning to numbers, I want to ask about your coworkers. I already talked much about mine."

Even if there is not much to say, indulging him with an answer is only fair.

"What can I say? In my area, there are three: Anthony, Leah, and me. We were four then, but Andie was promoted to the eighth floor a year ago. Anthony is a good guy, a little inexperienced, but very eager to learn. We don't have a very close relationship, but he's my protegee at work. Leah is very clever and has enough experience, but sometimes she is not present, making things a little tense between us. Andie is rightfully my friend. We got to the bureau simultaneously, and although she doesn't work with us anymore, we are very close."

Spencer is looking at me with full attention. It's odd to talk about this kind of thing with someone. I don't like to talk about my bonds in general. It makes me feel vulnerable. But for a reason that I still don't get, with Spencer, it feels right.

It's night already, and we are in our third coffee.

"Do you usually drink this amount of coffee daily at this hour? I try to cut off my dosis after lunch, but sometimes I just can't," I point as I stir the spoon on my coffee. Spencer hums.

"I drink a lot of it at any time of the day, every day. It's worse when we are on cases because that shitty coffee at the precincts should not even be called coffee," he scoffs, pouring half of the sugar pot into his cup.

I have already noticed the amount of sugar Spencer has used in his two previous coffees; this third is not the exception.

"I'm sorry, but I have to ask," I say as my eyes dart to his sweet liquid. He follows my line of sight and chuckles.

"I love coffee, but I don't like its bitterness. I know it doesn't make sense, but for me it does."

"Fair enough."

After that, our conversation stumbles to lousy sleep habits.

"Ray hated it. Even once, he told me I purposely got up in the middle of the night to annoy him."

Spencer's brow furrows.

"Ray is your ex?"

Shit. I don't realize I'm talking about him.

Why do I have to mention him? I hate how ingrained he is still in my life.

"Yeah, Raymond. No wonder why things didn't work out between us," I try to joke because I don't want to cry about it anymore.

"An example of a man," Spencer follows my lead, and I'm grateful he doesn't look at me like people usually do when I talk about it. There is no pity. There is no that look saying, 'Oh, poor girl who got cheated on.' It's like a whole understanding. It doesn't make me feel like a failure. And that's a change—a good one.

I chuckle. "Hell, he is."

It's getting late, and it's time to part ways, even if I don't want it. Hours pass quickly with such good company.

"We should get going. It's late," I point as I glance at my phone. Spencer nods in acknowledgment, signaling the waitress to get the check. He is about to fish his wallet when I stop him.

"No. Don't do that. I invited you."

Spencer scoffs, opening his wallet nonetheless.

"No way. You invited me the other night. You can do it next time."

Next time, uh? I want to say something teasing, but the waitress returns with our check.

We are outside the coffee shop now. I adjust my coat as Spencer does the same with his suit jacket. The night is chilly, and the contrast with the warmth of the coffee shop is evident.

"Can I walk you home?" He offers. I have my doubts about that. It's not that I don't like the idea; I just don't want to use more of his time.

"You don't have to. Really," I shake my head.

"Please? You already said it. It's pretty late," he insists, looking at me with dog puppy eyes.

Why is he doing that? He is testing my resolve.

"You know I can take care of myself, right? I'm a certificated FBI agent. I can't carry a gun, but sure I could manage," I argue in a teasing tone. Spencer chuckles.

"I know you are. And I'm sure you could. Even though, why no to prolong our evening for fifteen minutes long?" I raise an eyebrow.

"So you really like my company, uh?"

I'm sure I see a blush creeping his cheeks, and it's endearing.

"I like your company. I thought I made it pretty clear the other night?" he probes. And I don't know how to respond to that.

The truth is quite curious. Teasing Spencer seems so natural sometimes, but now I don't know what to say.

I decide not to say anything and nod, motioning for us to start walking.

Spencer follows me, and we walk in silence for the first block. Then, I feel the need to continue our conversation. I want these fifteen minutes to be as good as the previous two hours.

"Did you know that I used to carry a gun? Although it took me three failed tests to do so."

Spencer looks at me, surprised. I take that as my cue to tell that story.

Once I tell him how I finally managed to pass my shooting test, he starts telling me how he also failed his test a couple of times.

"So you saved your boss life shooting an unsub?" Spencer nods.

"But I really aimed to his leg, not his head," he adds, and we burst into a fit of laughter.

Without realizing it, we are already in front of my building. The laughter subsides when we notice where we are.

I clear my throat. "Well. Uh-thank you. Again," I say, referring to him walking me home.

"No need," Spencer says. "I had a good time today," he adds, smiling.

I can't help but feel my cheeks burn. Spencer casts his eyes to the ground.

"Me too," I admit, biting my bottom lip. "I - uh."

Why am I so nervous right now? Just say what you want to say!

"I - uh. I'd really like to do this again. I mean, you know, maybe next time could be something planned?"

Spencer's eyes flick to mine. I would say he didn't expect me to say that.

"I would love that," he says, keeping eye contact. And for a moment, I think the breath leaves my lungs. Those eyes are something I didn't see in my life before. I can't describe it, but it's enough to make me speechless.

"I guess it's here when I ask for your number?" Spencer's voice is the one that brings me out of the trance.

I chuckle, mid-embarrassed by my absorption moment. I gesture for him to give me the phone. Spencer does it, and I advert his piercing gaze to focus on typing my number. Once done, I return the device with a playful smile. Jeez, I feel like a damn teenager.

A snort leaves Spencer's lips when he sees the name I used for my contact.

"Really?" He asks. I nod, chuckling.

"It's safe to say you won't forget who I am," I confirm.

"Bet I won't."

"Good. Now I'm going to come up," I gesture to the building. "Good night, Spencer."

"Good night, (Y/N)."

I turn to enter the building, and although I can't see him, I feel him standing there in the cold night until I disappear into the elevator.

Once I cross the threshold of my apartment, a ding comes from my phone. Frowning, I pick it up.

Unknown number: Are you free on Saturday at midday? We could go to lunch. Let me know. Good night. SR.

I bit my lower lip. And after typing a reply, I start my night routine before bed.

Oh, boy. What are you getting into (Y/N)?

Whatever it is, it feels so good.

-------------

A/N 2: As always, I'm excited to know your thoughts about this one!

-------------

Spencer Reid's Taglist: @dreatine @nomajdetective @jayyeahthatsme @rosalinasam2 @averyhotchner @lovelyxtom @princessmiaelicia @pastelbabygirl19 @reidsbookclub @alexxavicry @gspenc @spencerreidisbae123 @calmspencer @pauline5525mgg @anamiad00msday @milivanili99 @laylasbunbunny @leahblackk @miaxx03 @missabsey @taintedstranger @khxna @hiireadstuff @pleasantwitchgarden @dysphoricsanity @levi-of-starz @themoonchildwhofell @silver138 @lovelybaka @shinytinywhispers

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bluecollarmcandtf · 3 days

Text

Typical Day For a Bouncer

I'm Joey, a security guard at a night club down the street. I got the job because I'm a big ex-rugby player, but I've kept it for so long because I'm good at handling people. I can't tell you how many underage idiots try to sneak in here. It takes patience, grit, and a keen eye to keep the troublemakers out!

Like any other Friday night, the club is packed tight and a line of impatient patrons stretches down the street. I've gotten good at telling people "no," in a way that makes them listen, so they have no choice but to calmly wait until I feel like checking their ID and letting them in.

Every now and again, I'll have some fools try to sweet talk their way in. Girls try to flirt, guys try to bribe, but the biggest assholes make a scene. It's nothing I can't handle.

Just last week, I had this entitled brat come up to me and demand I let him in. The boy couldn't have thought I'd believe he was twenty-one. He wasn't even in line! I don't remember what I did to get him to shut up, but he kept hammering on and on about his skills with hypnosis. I remember listening to that kid ramble about the voodoo of the mind for what felt like forever.

I don't remember kicking him to the curb, though. He probably got tired and went home.

"Hey, buddy!" a familiar voice squeaks over the music. I roll my eyes, preparing myself to say no yet again.

"Oh, it's you," my deep voice catches in my throat. The kid from last week is standing in front of me once more, ignoring the line of adults to his left. In his ratty sweatshirt and baseball cap, he doesn't look any older than eighteen. Still, the sight of him unlocks a memory I somehow had forgotten. "Hello, sir!" I call back, remembering him as my closest and most respected friend. How could I've forgotten that this boy was my best friend I call sir?

"You gonna let me in, big guy?" A devious grin spreads across his boyish face.

"Of course, sir."

There are a few angry comments from the people waiting in line. I can't imagine they're happy to see this guy ushered into the club before them. Normally, I have a strict policy against VIP treatment. I think everyone should have to wait in line like equals, but sir is great. He can come and go whenever he wants!

"Hey, why don't you take a break from the front and buy me some beers," the boy yells over the roar of the music.

I leave the entrance and start pushing my way through the crowd in the direction of the bar. I probably should've warned the other bouncer that I was taking a break, but my feet were carrying me away before I knew what was happening. The other guard knows what he's doing, but he's still pretty new here. I'm sure he'll be fine.

The bartender gives me a can of light beer, and I hustle it back to the boy on the dance floor. People tend to get out of the way when they see a giant security guard coming through, but the place is so jammed packed that I have to press against several sweaty partiers on the way over.

"Your beer, sir," I say, flinching at the meekness in my voice.

"What the hell is this?" he whines when he sees the drink, "This is crap. Get me the good stuff, and buy a lot of it!" The kid tossed the open can at my broad chest, and the cheap beer splashes across my uniform.

"Yes, sir."

I march back to the bar with a clenched fist, and grab a tray, ordering the barback to fill it up with the more expensive bottles of beer. He glances at my soaked shirt and pants, but averts his eyes the second he sees my less-than-friendly face.

That boy is my best friend. I respect him greatly, but goddamn is he infuriating. How did I even become close to someone so immature? I pacify myself, and carry the tray back over to the kid.

"That's better," he snorts and takes a sip of the premium drink while I stand there to make sure he likes it this time.

"Alright, sir," I begin, thinking about the twenty minute break I've been taking, "I need to get back to work."

"No you don't!" the boy interjects.

"I..." the words fumble in my mouth, "...well, I don't need to, but I should, sir."

"Tell your boss you're done for the night. Then go wait by my car. You can guard it!"

"Yes, sir," the words come out before I even know what I've agreed to.

Before I know it, I'm marching into the back office and calmly telling the club owner that I'm taking the night off. He's pissed, but I'm his most reliable employee, so he doesn't fire me. I can tell he's not happy, though. He looks like he'd take a swing at me if I weren't two feet taller than him and a hundred pounds heavier.

"You make a great watchdog!" the teenager laughs as he comes stumbling out of the club.

Something about him brings a scowl to my face. It might be the way he referred to me as an animal, or it might be the way he's staring at me like I am an animal. Maybe I'm just irritated from standing by this parked car in the cold for the last two hours, but this boy is getting on my nerves.

"No one has bothered your car, sir," I report.

"Good, boy," he slurs and then reaches a gangly arm to pat the top of my head. I can smell the distinct earthiness of the beer I'd bought wafting out with his breath.

Every muscle in my body tenses up, as I try my best to restrain myself. Sir is my best friend. I respect him. I do what he says. I shouldn't get this worked up by him making a little joke at my expense. It's perfectly fine for him to tease me a little since I trust him completely. I know all this.

"Still think hypnosis is fake?" he asks, bringing his wet lips uncomfortably close to my own.

"Sir?" my brow furrows, unsure why he's bringing up that crap again.

"Well, it's real, and you're hypnotized."

I stifle a groan, "Sir, you've had a lot to drink..."

"The only thing I'm drunk on is power!" he yells, smashing a bottle on the sidewalk for effect, "I've got you like a trained dog; that's how good of a hypnotist I am! Let me prove it."

I was pissed. I was livid. Sir had mocked and insulted me repeatedly. It was a bad idea for anyone to pick on me, especially someone a third of my size! Nevertheless, the boy has all my faith, so I kept my mouth clamped shut.

He told me to kneel, and I grunted, "Yes, sir." I already had beer all over my clothes, so what's a little mud on the knees of my pants? It was better to just keep him happy, but that didn't mean he had hypnotized me.

"Keep your arms raised, like you're worshipping me," he went on.

"Yes, sir."

My arms went up. I'll admit this was a bit more strange, but I still trust and respect the teenager enough to comply. That doesn't say anything about my state of mind.

"Alright, now stay like that until I come back," he laughs, "I'm going to get a snack, but if anyone walks by, I want you to bark at them like the hypnotized guard dog you are!"

"Yes, sir," I answer, hearing the hoarseness in my voice.

As the boy stumbles away, I find myself stuck in the position he'd left me in: on my knees, in the cold, with my arms raised in compliance. I'm doing this willingly, right?

Time creeps by uncomfortably slow as I silently wait next to his car. Suddenly, I hear footsteps nearby. A wave of barks burst out of my throat, and I find myself growling like a territorial mutt in the direction of the pedestrians.

Now I'm acting like a dog!

Sir doesn't come back for another hour, which leaves me to viciously snap at numerous other passerby. They seem terrified, which makes sense. They probably think I'm insane! I'm beginning to wonder if I'm insane too.

I respect that boy more than anyone even if I only met him once, a week ago. I really would do anything he told me too. Is that strange? It's not like me to be so...obedient. I'm the kind of guy that normally tells people what to do, so why am I doing this?

There's no way...it's not possible...I can't actually be hypnotized, right?

"Good, boy," he pulls off my cap and ruffles my hair, "Now, be a good dog and drive me to your house. I might fall asleep on the way there, so you'll have to carry me inside to your bed. If you do good, I'll give you a special treat." He licks his lips and reaches a scrawny hand out to squeeze my tired pec.

"Yes, sir," I answer, jumping up to do his bidding, but I can feel that the words aren't really mine.

Shit. I think he's right. I think I am hypnotized.

#hypno story #mind control #gay mind control #gay ai art #hypnotized #servant

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name-is-no · 2 days

Text

5:13

Kim Mingyu x Male Reader

Genre: nsfw, suggestive, Angst

Warning/s: Mentions of mental illness, sexual innuendos, groping, unprotected sex

You enter your office humming while flowers on your hand and salad and water on the other

As you reach your table you put everything down and took your phone out of your lab coat

As you were scrolling through it you felt two hands at the side of your waist which made you flinched

“And who are those from?” a familiar voice whispered through your ears

You froze ‘how is he here? what is he doing outside his containment’ you thought

You just stood there as you put down your phone not wanting to upset the gigantic man behind you who is leaning his chin on your head

“Little Prince I asked you a question” he said softly. “F-from a friend” you said scared of whatever the man is planning

“Don’t lie to me prince” he said pulling you closer

“I-I’m not lying, the hospital gave it to me as a welcoming gift” you said trying not to anger the taller male

You’ve been working on this asylum for almost a month now, the tall man behind you is Kim Mingyu, a psychopath, 6'2, 27, No known family member as he was moved here from prison when he was already in his 20s, he's a former gang member who lead an entire heist

They say psychopaths don’t feel anything, but to Mingyu, you were everything, he wanted you, he didn't understand why, all he knows is he wants to kill anyone who tries to get near you

He kissed the back of your head "You've been out the whole day, I missed you"

You gulped trying to find the strength to ask him a question "Gyu?"

He hummed at your sweet call, "Why are you in my office and not in your room?"

He smiles and giggles a bit, "Little Prince, I've been in this asylum for so long, I know every corner and ways of this place"

His hands that were once on your waist started roaming your chest. "Ahh— Gyu stop" You tried to grab his hands

"Sweetheart we've done this thing before why are you resisting now?" He said

It's true as twisted as it is, you have slept with a madman, at least before you knew he was a psycho, before he got in here, you met him at a bar hooked up and tried to keep in touch, frequently texting, calling, phone sex wasn't good enough but it was the only thing you guys could do while being apart

But one day he never called back, for almost two months you thought you'd never see the greatest sex of your life, yes, he was the best, he knew how to eat your ass, his roughness and mix of his gentle caresses, his big cock, you wanted it but sadly you only got to experience it once, your first and last sex

That is until you were assigned to this asylum, the moment he saw you, not even a week he had you, in his room, one leg up and his big cock thrusting inside you, his warm and huge body wrapped around your figure, as if he doesn't want to let go

"I'm gonna cum inside you" He said, "No, please don't" you tried to resist, "Little Prince, that wasn't a question" he grunts and smirked before sloppily filling you up, continuously thrusting to reach his high, "fuck" he whispers in your ears which was your last straw before reaching your high

Your memory was vivid as if it was yesterday, after that hot and rough sex you were covered in bruises and love marks and right now you were sure it would all lead to the same scenario again

He hugged you tighter, "They're coming"

You're brows furrowed at his statement as he stopped playing with your nipples

Suddenly the window of your office was shattered as a man comes in with ropes and guns

Mingyu grabs your phone, salad and water, making sure you still have all you need before carrying you, well dragging, with his other hand

He handed the man in a mask your stuff before Mingyu grabbed the other rope the man handed him

"Let's get out of here my Little Prince" he whispered and just like that you guys were being lifted by the rope inside a helicopter and as you guys seated comfortably the helicopter makes it's escape leaving you stunned and too shocked to react

Mingyu has his arms wrapped around your waist and kissed the side of your temple, "Let's leave the country" he whispered and you couldn't say anything

A/N: This was a draft from 3 years ago, lol

#kpop x male reader #seventeen x male reader smut #svt x reader #mingyu x male reader #kim mingyu x male reader #seventeen imagines #svt imagines #vernon smut #male idol x male reader #seventeen x male reader #nct x male reader #nct imagines #nct x male reader smut

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aniismydaddy · 2 days

Text

Roll Camera... Action!

warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI! piv, fingering, oral (f receiving) pairing: Hayden Christensen x fem!reader summary: filming a sex scene with your hot dilf co-star... and a little more, too. a/n: s/o to @tracymbcm for the idea!! also, I hate how I ended this. It's kinda shitty but it's 7am, and I've been up since yesterday w no sleep, so pretend the ending is good. mwah!

You had been collaborating with Hayden for some time on the set of your latest film. It was a love story featuring an older man and a young woman in her twenties, who develop a romantic relationship over several months. The chemistry was palpable on screen, which was a reflection of an even stronger connection behind the scenes.

Subtle exchanges began to occur on set, such as affectionate touches on the arm or him endearingly calling you names like "doll," "Babygirl," or "pretty." Initially, it seemed like friendly gestures, but over time, it blossomed into a real fondness and connection. You found yourself sharing secrets with Hayden, spending nights talking, lying in bed pondering a relationship with him, enjoying lunches together, and borrowing his sweatshirts during the chilly moments on set.

"Come on, let's go!" you hear Hayden knocking on the door to your trailer. You open the door and see him standing there in his robe, sporting a broad, cheeky smile.

"Don't give me that look, Hay," you say with a laugh, closing the door behind you. He had been teasing you all week about the upcoming scene, and today was finally the day. "I know you've been anticipating this, so no blaming me," you tease back as you both ride the golf cart to the studio.

"You seem nervous," he said, nudging you playfully. "I'm sure you'll look equally as hot if not hotter than usual."

You roll your eyes, trying to hide your blush. "Seriously, Hayden, be quiet."

Finally, you make your way to the studio and step onto the set. Part of you feels a bit nervous, just as Hayden had teased, but the other half is brimming with excitement. He has been your celebrity crush for ages, and working with him is like living a dream you never want to end—especially since this scene is the highlight.

"Take your places, guys!" you hear the director announce over the loudspeaker. You and Hayden walk to the set, and as expected, Hayden gets straight to the point. He drops his robe, and your jaw goes with it. "Wow." the only word that courses through your brain as you scan his figure. Not what you had in mind for a forty-year-old man, but you also weren't complaining. You had some idea of what he looked like under his clothes, but this? Wasn't even close to the idea you had conjured up in your brain.

You remained transfixed until the director's shrill voice over the loudspeaker jolted you. "Disrobe and take your places!" you hear once more from the loudspeaker. You drop your robe, watching as Hayden's eyes meticulously scan your body. All of your inhibitions suddenly leave, as he watches you. You both assume your positions on the bed, locking eyes. An unspoken tension hangs between you, so tangible that even the director senses it.

"Rolling… Action!" comes the director's call, and you instantly spring into character for the camera. "How much did you really miss me?" you ask flirtatiously. Although it was meant to be an act, it didn't quite feel like one. The way his hands caressed your hips, and his gaze intense, a clear sign of genuine passion. "How about I just show you…" he whispered softly tracing gentle circles around your hip with his finger. Before you could process your next move, his lips crashed into yours. "Was that in the stage directions?" you wondered to yourself, but it didn't matter, you wanted this, just like he did.

His hands roamed effortlessly, not leaving a single inch of you undiscovered. For a moment, you forget you're working, it feels like you're the only two in the room, your body responding naturally to the feeling of him.

"Cut!" comes the call from behind. "That's great, but remember, there are more lines you need to say, guys!" your director remarks with his characteristic smug tone. It's an open secret on set that there are genuine feelings between you and Hayden—feelings that both of you consistently deny.

"Ugh" you groan rolling off of him, checking over your script for the next line. You wanted to just skip past all the lines, to the part where you got to kiss him again, he was such a good kisser too, the experience definitely showed in that previous performance. After a quick skim of your lines, you settle in for the second take. "Take 2... action!"

"How much did you really miss me? you flirt, this time, even more sultry and seductive than the last. "How about I just show you…" he repeats. "Then do it," you recite the line you had forgotten in the heat of the moment previously. With a newfound passion, the kiss is hungrier, more feverish and sloppier. "I missed the way you taste" he mutters. That's definitely not in the script, but the director didn't stop him, so you rolled with it. The words began to flow effortlessly as the scene progressed.

"I need you so bad." you mutter breathlessly as he rolls on top of you. "I know." he flirts back, kissing your neck passionately. His kisses were fierce and aggressive, sure to leave a hickey or two behind. The moans flowed naturally, I mean sure the sex was fake, but the kissing, the touching, and the moans, were very real. The grinding, and thrusting started, "Why the fuck is this fake, I wanna feel him." you thought to yourself.

"You feel so good." you moan following in motion with the script. "You feel even better." he responds eagerly, his hands roaming your body fiercely.

"How does he fake fuck so well?" you think to yourself. "I mean, I have seen his other movies... but man I need to actually fuck him... and like... right now." you repeated in your mind.

"Cut! Great job guys... let's take 30 while I make a few changes to the script." You lay there for a few moments, processing what the fuck just happened. Hayden rolls off of you, promptly putting on his robe, in a poor attempt to conceal his excitement. You follow suit, throwing on your robe and taking a seat.

"Coffee? or maybe tequila to calm your nerves." Hayden teases you.

"Tequila would be better... got some in my trailer if your down for a drink this early." You speak, attempting to maintain a calm and casual demeanor.

"Yeah, let's go," he suggests, walking side by side with him out of the studio.

The ride back to your trailers feels like an eternity, you finally knew what he looked like under his clothes and your mind was running wild. You could catch him stealing glances from the corner of your eye, and his altered body language conveyed all you needed to know about his thoughts. He trails into your trailer and closes the door. The tension mounts instantly with the sound of the door clicking shut.

You turn to him, the intentions you both have for each other are clear. he approaches you slowly, undoing the knot in your belt and slipping your robe off your shoulders. "I don't know what the fuck is happening, but I like it." your thoughts race as his deep blue eyes take in the sight of you.

"I think we should..." he trails off, while tracing circles around your shoulder "Go over the scene again, you know for good measure." he mutters, his voice low and seductive.

"Me too… but with a bit more… reality," you say, locking eyes with him. The genuine connection they shared was finally reaching its peak, and damn it was sweet. "All I can think about is how your fingers would feel deep in my pussy right now." you whisper seductively in his ear.

"Fuck..." Hayden muttered softly, his cock throbbing achingly as his mind repeated your words over and over. Grabbing your face, his lips crashed into yours a trail of sloppy wet kisses followed. You both wanted this for so long and it was finally happening.

"You don't know how bad I've wanted this." you say between kisses, as he lifts you into his arms. You instinctively wrap your legs around his waist while he carries you to the plush pink couch that decorated your trailer. "I've seen the way you look at me, and I know how bad you want this." Hayden retorts playfully

"I've seen the way you look at me, I know how bad you want this, Hay." you tease back, running your fingers through his hair. His kisses were like an addiction, a feeling you never wanted to quit. His hands continue his discovery from earlier on the set, pushing the limits of your "just co-stars" relationship.

He trails his middle finger up and down your wet folds, teasing your throbbing clit and dripping entrance with his finger. "This okay?" he whispers softly against your neck.

"Mm, more than okay" you choke out softly. The actual feeling of his fingers was 10x better than the fantasy you created in your head.

"Spread your legs for me doll" he requests kindly, even in the most intimate moments he was gentle and respectful, which made you want him to ravage your insides with his cock even more. He marvels at your cleanly shaved pussy, slowly sliding his entire middle finger inside. "So pretty, so perfect" he mumbles, watching your reaction closely.

"Fuck, Hayden..." you softly mutter, leaning your head back against the couch. "That feels... so good" you moan softly as he slips another finger inside, slowly pumping them in and out of your aching sex.

"Yeah? you like that pretty girl?" the way he always praised you for little things set you on fire. You always knew you had a thing for older guys, but Hayden gave you a whole new perspective.

As the sensation grew, you could feel your body responding to him, writhing and grinding against his fingers as he continued to pleasure you, "Mm, don't stop." you moan softly. The pace of his fingers inside you increased with every cry and whimper that escaped your lips. He trailed soft kisses down your inner thighs before sucking your swollen clit into his mouth.

"Yes! fuck fuck" you cry out, gripping the couch cushion as his tongue assaulted your leaking sex. The combination of his experienced mouth and fingers sent you over the edge. the soft vibration of his deep voice against your pussy heightened the feeling.

"You taste so good." Hayden says, his voice low and seductive. "Look at you, all sensitive and wet for me... I like that." his words send shivers down your spine, "How the fuck did he always know what to say to you?" your thoughts jumbled together with the feeling of him all over your body.

"So close Hay... so fucking close" you moan loudly, shoving his face further into your needy pussy.

"Not yet baby, not yet" he stops abruptly, removing his wet fingers from your pussy. "Look at that... good girl." he says admiring your wetness on his fingers. "Here, taste." he shoves his fingers into your mouth, pumping them in and out until you lick them clean. "You taste so good, don't you? Yeah... you do." he coos.

You feel your pussy throb knowing his thick erect cock will be inside you soon. He lays you flat on the couch and positions himself over you. Something about him towering over you, about to ravage your insides made him look so fucking hot! He teases your clit and entrance with the head of his pre-cum coated cock before pushing in slowly. Gripping your hips with one hand and pinning your arms above your head with the other.

"Oh fuck..." you gasp attempting to adjust to his size. For an old man, he's certainly still got it. The way his eyes never left yours as he thrusted into you made the sex feel like more than just sex, like he wanted to build a deep connection with you, outside of work-related interactions.

"So tight, so wet" Hayden murmurs against your lips. His pace increasing as your walls grip him tightly. "You feel so fucking amazing." He huffs, drilling deeper into you.

"I wanted this for so so long, Hay." you whimper loudly. The sounds of your simultaneous moans and slapping skin fill the air. He feels even better than you imagined, typical, your fantasies were always way off.

"Yeah? you waited so long to fuck me?" he grunts, rapidly increasing the pace of his thrusts. His passion was fueled by your admissions to lusting for him. "Please... please don't stop Hayden" you yelp in a pleasure-filled cry.

Hayden's hands grip your hips tightly, pulling your closer with each forceful thrust. "I'm gonna cum, fuck I'm gonna cum soon Hay." you whimper, your body becoming putty in his grip. His blue eyes beaming down into yours, meticulously studying your reactions to the feeling of him inside you.

"That's it, be a good girl and cum for me... alright? Can you do that?" he grunts, his thrusts becoming more erratic. He was nearing the edge too but tried to keep his composure.

Your body arches naturally as your orgasm crashes into you. You grip his arm tightly, nails digging into the skin as he continues to fuck you relentlessly. "Fuck, don't stop Hayden I'm cumming, oh god!" you scream. Your moans only seemed to fuel his passion, as he slammed into you over and over.

"That's it baby! Cum for me, pretty! I'm close too baby" he grunts lowly, his cock twitching inside you with an immense release. "Oh fuck, you feel so fucking good baby!" he moans against your lips as he pumps his warm, sticky cum into you, coating your walls with his seed, an experience you relived in your brain over and over before this moment.

Your bodies shuttering as your climaxes ripple through you both. You lie under him, dazed, twitching, and breathing heavily. "You did so well, doll." he praises, planting a long lingering kiss on your lips. "Just like I knew you would."

"That was fucking amazing." you mutter, trying to process what just happened. "I can't believe we actually just did that..." you laugh, still not completely done processing the situation. After a cleanup, you return to the studio, hand in hand. The "post-coital afterglow" still lingering on your faces.

"Take your places, guys!" the director's voice rings out sharply. This time, the scene was captured in a single take, as you were no longer just acting.

#hayden christensen #anakin skywalker #anakin x you #anakin smut #hayden christensen x you #smut #hayden christensen smut #fem reader #fanfic #hot as fuck

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6ix9inewiturmom · 7 hours

Text

Safe Word- Matthew Sturniolo

Summary: Your boyfriend Matt decided to get a little too rough with you and you needed to use your safe word

Warnings: Use of Y/N, Smut, P in V, Unprotected sex (wrap it in a snickers wrapper if necessary and desperate), safe word, crying, rough!dom!Matt, Sub!fem!reader, degradation, praising.

A/N: I LOVE YOU GUYS THANK YOU FOR ALL YOUR LOVE AND SUPPORT!! This is kinda loosely based on that one scene from Fifty Shades of Grey when Ana uses her safe word!

PSA: DO NOT USE MY WORK FOR ANYTHING THIS IS MY WORK! I wrote this! dont use this for “inspiration” or anything else!

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

I had been teasing Matt all day. I purposely wore my sluttiest outfit to an LA party the triplets were invited to and of course, since Matt and I are a package deal I went with him. My outfit consisted of a tiny black latex skirt with a graphic baby Tee and black thigh-high heels. I knew he hated this outfit, he wasn't insecure, he just loved being possessive over me in a healthy manner. We hadn't had sex in about a week, our schedules were not matching this week to give us any time together besides when we both got home we were too tired for anything else besides sleeping. All in all, we were both sexually frustrated and I desperately needed to be dicked the fuck down by him.

The music was loud and the lights in the enclosed venue were nonexistent beside the area lights that were flashing colors around the place, and with all the drunken people around I doubted anyone was looking at me anyway.

Matts's hands gripped my waist pulling me closer to him as my hips swayed to the music and loosened my body from the lack of freedom I've had.

“When we get home I need you faced down and ass up” Matt growled in my ear placing a small kiss on my neckline making shivers go down my spine.

“I'm really feeling this party Matt so we should stay a while” I smiled devilishly knowing he couldn't wait any longer to have me all to himself.

My response only made his grip on my waist tighter. He let out a small grunt as he pushed my ass into his now very obvious boner.

“You feel that? you feel what your slutty little outfit does to me?” he whispers in my ear and softly nibbles at my ear.

“I honestly have no idea what you're talking about Matt,” I say smirking knowing damn well exactly what he meant.

“Fuck this” he says gripping my wrist softly and dragging me around the venue finding his brothers.

“Matt, what the fuck?” I say almost whining.

“Hey so Y/N isn’t feeling well, do you guys wanna come with me or do you want to call an Uber home when you wanna come home?” Matt questions his brothers still gripping my wrist as I sit there like a child being dragged around Walmart.

“Oh girl I'm sorry, too much alcohol?” Nick says laughing.

“No actually-” i start before Matt interrupts me.

“Yes she had a little too much and doesn't realize she had that much” Matt says looking at me with disapproval.

“Just call an uber Matt” Chris says as his arm is wrapped around some girl he probably just met tonight.

Matt nods and pushes through the crowd of people still grabbing my wrist. We find our way to the car he opens the door for me practically shoving me into the passenger side as he gets in the driver's side.

Matt pulls out of the parking lot at a rather concerning speed making my head jolt back “Jesus Matt could you at least be safe getting us home… fuck” I say in annoyance.

Matt doesn't reply he just places his hand on my upper thigh and softly grips it. I place my hand on top of his holding his intex and middle finger.

Matt speeds through the interstate hurrying to get him only making me wetter and wetter by the second, questioning in my mind all the things he'd do to me. How he would thrust his cock deep into me, the way he would have his arms around my waist so tightly, thinking about all the nastiest shit he would whisper in my ear as his cock hits all the right places in me. All these things pacing through my head make my thighs subconsciously squeeze together which matt obviously caught on.

“Such a dirty fucking whore” he whispers under his breath.

My lower lip gets trapped in my teeth at his words, i. Always loved the way his voice got lower as he spoke to me sexually.

After what felt like hours we finally arrived at the house, quickly ran around to grab my door for me and once again, he gripped my wrist softly yet firmly as he unlocked the door and guided me to our bedroom.

Matt's eyes darken with more than just lust, he slowly creeps up behind me and rips my shirt right in half making me squeal.

“Matt are you serious” my jaw dropped to the floor watching my shirt fall off my arms.

He once again didn't answer and unclipped my bra allowing it to fall off my shoulders and down to the floor. His hands crept their way to my hips dropping my skirt off from them as i step out of my skirt.

He pushed me down on the bed by my shoulders and used my ankles which were dangling off the bed to flip me over with my ass in the air and my face in the mattress.

This has got to be the quickest this man has undressed. In no time his cock was free slapping his stomach and he was completely bare. He quickly spit in his own hand rubbing his spit down his shaft and spreading it around. He moves a little closer to me using the excess spit from his hand and spreading it around my folds making my hips jerk forward and sending a smirk to his face at my reaction.

He aligns his cock with my entrance and immediately bottoms out. “You think you're so fucking cute” he grunts out as his hand pushes my head down on the mattress as he thrusts his hips into mine. “Teasing me all fucking day huh? You think you're all innocent? Making everything think you're a sweet innocent little whore? You want everyone to know you're a fucking slut” he spits as my head further into the mattress.

The room was filled with my moans and cries of pleasure and the sound of my ass recoiling from his hips as he thrusts into me at an almost ungodly pace.

“MATT” I muffle out.

“Oh, you like that? You like my fucking dick being shoved so deep in your tight pussy” he groans out.

“MPHF- MA-MATT” Tears form in my eyes as his hand repeatedly smacks my ass leaving a red and white handprint on my ass as his cock abuses my cervix.

“Such a dumb fucking slut already” he laughs out as his grip on the back of my throat gets tighter.

“BUTTERFLY” i scream out with tears streaming down my face, lifting my head to the best of my ability which sends Matt into a panic, and immediately pull out and flipping me over to face him.

“Baby? Are you okay? did i hurt you?” his hands cup my cheeks wiping away the tears that had been pouring out of my eyes.

“Y-y-yes” i whisper out as i flince at his touch.

“S-shit” he studders out “Where did I hurt you, my love?” his voice softens.

“Y-you h-had y-y-your hand o-on the back of my-my throat a little too tight” My breathing shudders “I-i I couldn't breathe” I sniffle out.

“I-am so sorry sweetheart, you know i would never internally hurt you, i-i-i just got carried away” he looks down fiddling his fingers.

“N-no i-i-i know..” my voice trails off as my eyes water.

“Come here” he opens his arms for me to lie in them as his hands run through my hair. “I'm so so sorry” he whispers.

“I-its okay” as i bury my head in his chest.

“Sh sh, don't speak” he kisses my head. “I was too rough with you, you felt the need to use your safe word” his voice cracks as tears of his own start forming in his eyes. “I promise you i won't be that rough with you again” he kisses my head again.

I lift my head up a little “n-no i like when you're rough i just like my ability to breathe matt” i softly smile.

He returns a smile before placing a loving small kiss on my lips and laying back as my head lays back on his chest.

“I love you” he whispers out slowly massaging my scalp.

“I love you too” I mutter before falling fastly asleep in Matt's arms.

“I love you most” he replies kissing my head and also falling into a deep slumber of his own holding me the rest of the night.

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

A/n Pt 2: AHH THIS ONEE I STG I JUST KEPT TYPING AWAY SO I HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOY THIS ONE!!!! And tysm again for over 500 followers!!!

#Spotify #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #the sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo smut #matthew sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo

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illdowhatiwantthanks · 16 hours

Note

Emily x Reader after Reader has a sh relapse, Emily patches and her up and assures her she's still beautiful by slow, gentle, loving sex and lots of cuddling please?

You got it, anon! Thanks for the request! :) Hope you like it!

Burning

Emily Prentiss x fem!reader Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, NSFW, self-harm, depression, mental illness, sex, fingering, etc., injuries due to self-harm, brief mentions of an eating disorder, some explicit language (please let me know if I've missed anything!) Word Count: 2.3k

Summary: With Emily away on a case and a depressive episode hitting you hard, you fall back into a pattern you thought you'd kicked a long time ago. When she comes home and discovers what you've done, you're afraid it'll be too much for her. Emily does her best to show you that it's not.

You’d been standing in front of the bathroom mirror for what felt like hours, but was probably mere minutes. Time warped itself when the urges took hold, every second a lifetime of effort, until it became all the potential lives you might live stacked one on top of the other, and they were too heavy for you to carry.

The hand that held the unlit match was shaking, and you seesawed between the unbearable desire to scratch a painful itch and the knowledge that self-hatred that would flood you afterward. But at least the self-hatred and the pain would be something to feel, other than the abject hopelessness that had seemed to swallow you up over the last week.

You’d known a depressive episode was coming before Emily left. You could always feel them coming. But what were you supposed to say? Don’t go save people from a terrorist cell? Stay here with me because I’m scared I’m getting depressed and I need you? It’d be pathetic. You were pathetic. And it wasn’t Emily’s job to keep your mental illness at bay.

But she’d been gone longer than you expected–over a week now. And your depressive episode had hit you harder than you thought it would. You’d called out of work, you’d binged on food delivery, then hated yourself afterward, staring into the mirror feeling lower and lower and lower. Until the only way you could think to stop sinking was to shock yourself out of it.

You knew it wasn’t wise or healthy. You knew you’d feel even worse once the pain subsided. You knew that a relapse would make it that much harder to stop next time. You knew that if Emily was here, she would stop you, she would hide the matches and the lighters, she would be so, so sad that you’d even thought about hurting yourself.

But despite knowing all these things, the hunger for fire, for pain, was too much to resist. You scratched the head of the match against the matchbox and the flame leapt into existence. Your go-to spot in young adulthood had been your arms, but the burns wouldn't fade before Emily got back, and she’d notice them on your arms. This time, you held the match to the upper side of your abdomen, where your arms would hopefully hide the marks.

You scrunched your eyebrows and winced as the flame licked at your skin, the pain white and bright and hot. You wished you could explain to people that odd, addictive mixture of self-loathing and dopamine that hit you and made you feel simultaneously worse and better. You wished people understood the desire for it, that sometimes you wanted to feel worse because feeling worse made you feel better. But it was hard to explain. Even harder to understand. So you didn’t bother most of the time. You lit match after match until the box was empty, until your side was scattered with raised, red-white blotches, like a constellation of all the shitty things you’d ever been through or felt.

You looked at yourself in the mirror and hated what you saw. And it felt good to hate yourself, like a guilty pleasure.

You jumped at the sound of the apartment door opening and closing, and cold panic flooded your system.

“Hey, baby, I’m home!” Emily called from the entryway.

You quickly pulled a loose t-shirt over your head, wincing as the fabric brushed over the burns. She wasn’t supposed to be home yet. She hadn’t texted or called. She’ll hate me, you thought. She’ll hate me if she finds out.

Of course, Emily knew you struggled with self-harm. But you’d been in a really good spot when you’d started dating and had, for the most part, stayed in that really good spot for your entire relationship. You were in therapy. You had healthy coping mechanisms. You hadn’t relapsed in years. You didn’t know what had made today different from every other bad day in the last few years, but you knew you didn’t want Emily to know.

You silently cursed yourself for using all the matches; there were none left to light a candle in the bathroom to mask the scent of burning. You ran to meet her in the living room, hoping that by heading her off, the smell would have time to dissipate.

“Hi, honey,” you greeted her, forcing a smile. You took both her hands in yours to try and prevent her touching your side, which still felt as if it was on fire. You stood on tiptoes to kiss her, and she smiled, leaning in.

“I missed you,” she breathed, wrapping her arms around you. You flinched and inhaled sharply as her fingers grazed the burns.

She furrowed her eyebrows. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, avoiding her eyes. “I just, um… fell earlier.”

Her hands fluttered over you, a worried expression on her face. “You fell!? Where!? Like, how hard?”

“Not that hard,” you said, trying to squirm away. “It doesn’t hurt too bad. Ow!” Emily had placed a gentle hand at your side and you couldn’t help your outburst.

“Well, honey, if it hurts that bad, you need to let me see it. We might need to go to the ER or something.”

You knew you were done for when she grabbed your wrist, hard. Emily was much stronger than you, so instead of fighting, you went numb.

You felt your whole world stop as she lifted up your shirt to see the scattered burns. You felt tears prick at your eyes. There were too many marks, and they were too symmetrical to have been an accident. You knew it, and Emily knew it, too.

You couldn’t bring yourself to look at her, but if you did, you would have seen that her eyes were wet with tears she wasn’t going to let herself cry because you needed someone strong right now. If you’d looked at her, you would have seen a mixture of sadness and pity and heartbreak and undying love. You’d have seen the face of someone who wanted nothing more than for you to be okay.

“Y/N,” Emily managed after a moment. “Did you do this to yourself?”

You nodded, a tear rolling down your cheek.

“Today?”

You nodded again.

“How long ago?”

You looked at the ceiling, willing yourself not to cry. “Right before you walked in.”

You hated yourself. You hated yourself even more because you knew that Emily would feel awful. She’d think that if she’d just been a few minutes earlier, she could have prevented this. And you never wanted Emily to feel like your mental illness was her fault or her responsibility.

“Come here,” she said, gently taking your hand and guiding you to the bathroom. She turned on the shower, making sure the water was cool but not cold, then slowly pulled your clothes off. She nodded toward the shower and you got in, shivering under the chilly stream.

Emily sighed and sat down on the toilet lid, watching you. She looked tired, so tired. You hated to be another thing that exhausted her, another thing she had to take care of and fix.

“You should sit down,” she added quietly. “You’re gonna have to be in there for a while. Until they stop burning.”

You sat on the tiled floor, the water leaching the pain away from the burn marks, leaving only disgust and self-loathing in their place. You pulled your knees up to your chest and buried your face, trying and failing not to cry.

Your shoulders shook with the force of your sobs. You heard Emily stand and were sure she was going to leave. Why wouldn’t she? She deserved to. She deserved not to have to deal with you.

You jumped a little as Emily lowered herself into the shower next to you, clothes abandoned on the bathroom floor, and wrapped her arm around your shoulder. She pressed her face into yours as the shower drenched you both.

“Shh,” she soothed, careful to avoid your burns. “It’s okay. I’m here.”

“I’m sorry, Em,” you wept, rocking. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she repeated. “You don’t need to be sorry. I love you. You’re gonna be okay.”

“I hate myself,” you whispered.

Emily gently grabbed your face and tilted it toward her. There were tears in her eyes, too. “Baby, please don’t say that.”

“I can’t help it.” Your voice was so quiet, so small, the sound of the shower almost drowned it out.

“That’s okay,” Emily said, brushing strands of wet hair out of your face. “We’re gonna get you some help, okay?”

You looked in her eyes then for the first time since she’d discovered the burn marks. You didn’t know what you’d expected to see: annoyance, disgust, hatred, or worst of all, ambivalence. But there was none of that in Emily’s eyes. Only love and concern.

Even so, you were scared to ask what you needed to ask. “Do you still love me?”

“Oh, honey, of course I do. I could never stop loving you.”

And then you kissed her. You kissed her with the cool water pouring down around your bodies. With your skin hot from the burns and from your aching love for Emily. You kissed her desperately, hungrily, like someone clinging to a lifeboat, and Emily was. She was your lifeboat. And for Emily’s part, she was gentle, almost too gentle, as if you might break at any moment.

You wrapped your legs and arms around her and she held you so carefully, so mindful of your burns. You shuddered in the cool water as your hips pushed against her.

Emily moaned into your mouth, her hands faltering for a moment.

“Y/N,” she said breathlessly, pulling away to hold your face in her hands. “We don’t have to do this." She looked at you a moment longer, then added, "I love you.”

You kissed her again. Her mouth. Her forehead. Her collarbone. Emily’s chest heaved into you and your heart beat rapidly.

“Please,” you begged. “Show me.”

Emily pulled you into her, letting her tongue and her lips roam over your neck, letting her hips meet yours as the water surrounded you, soothing your burns the way Emily soothed the roiling, burning despair inside of you.

“I love you,” she whispered as she kissed your eyelids. “I love you,” she whispered as she pressed her hands into the soft flesh of your ass. “I love you,” she whispered as she slipped her fingers inside of you. You bit back a moan and trembled against her, your body pulsing around her.

She fucked you slowly, tenderly, as if it was both your first time and your last, though this was neither. And she kept saying it–“I love you”–again and again, never stopping, so that all the darkness in your mind, all the self-doubt, didn’t have any room to make itself heard.

You let out a strangled groan as your body tensed around her, and when your pleasure flooded you, it was like you were on fire. And this fire was so much better, louder, brighter, than any flame you’d ever held to your body. It was a burning that consumed you, one that would leave you new and glistening afterward instead of scarred and in ashes.

You fell limp against her as she removed her fingers, kissing your forehead, your collarbone, your mouth, swirling her tongue with yours until you felt drunk on her. “I love you,” she said, and you didn’t think you’d ever get tired of hearing it. “I love you.”

You were quiet as she turned off the shower head. Quiet as you both dried off, as Emily gently pressed a towel to your side, making sure your burns were clean and dry. She sat you on the toilet lid as she pulled gauze squares and antibacterial ointment out of the bathroom cabinet, spreading the ointment on the gauze, then pressing it gently to your skin.

“Lift your arms up,” she said quietly, as she circled your body with bandages, wrapping it just tight enough that it wouldn’t shift in the night.

She knelt down in front of you and caressed your face. “Bed?” she asked. You nodded.

“You go ahead,” she said, patting your leg. “I’ll be right there.”

You felt self-doubt start creeping back in as you laid in bed on top of the covers, your burns still too hot to sleep underneath. When Emily came into the room, she carried a glass of water and a bottle of pills.

“Take these,” she told you, handing you a few. You drank and swallowed obediently.

She lay down in the bed and motioned you over. “Come here and let me hold you.”

You rested your face in the crook of her neck, and she played with your hair, careful to avoid your burns.

“I love you,” she whispered after a few minutes, kissing the top of your head.

“You said.” You meant it to be funny, but your heart wasn’t in it. Not yet.

“And I’ll keep saying it until you believe it.”

You were quiet for a minute, then spoke. “I love you, too, Em.” You nuzzled your way closer to her, hoping against hope that her arms around you were enough to keep the darkness and the numbness away for the night.,

And as you drifted off, she kept saying it–“I love you.” And then a kiss on your head.

As your eyelids fluttered closed–“I love you.” And she pressed her face to your forehead.

As your breath slowed and evened, and your body went limp–“I love you. I love you. I love you.”

#emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss smut #emily prentiss fanfic #emily prentiss x fem!reader #emily prentiss fluff #emily prentiss drabble #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #hurt/comfort #self h@rm

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swampjawn · 12 hours

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I've been hesitating to message you, since I love your work and don't want to add stress to your life, but Imma just send good wishes and hopes that everything's okay with you! (You mentioned you wrote like 3000 words for this week's episode, so I assume editing is just taking longer than usual? but your updates have been like clockwork so far, so! Feeling mildly worried about a cool creator who does cool stuff, and wanted to send good vibes. ☺️)

Just a longer and more involved video combined with me adopting a kitty who likes a lot of attention over the weekend!

But it's out now!

youtube

#dungeon meshi #falin touden #video #anime #cat

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daydreams-after-dark · 2 days

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What are your thoughts on fuck boy besties Felix & Jisung with fem!reader?

When I think of fuck bois Felix and Jisung… I picture them like in the following TikTok’s…

Here and Here

… fun, flirty, persuasive, attractive. It honestly stirs up my inner 18 year old when I’d go out to clubs.

↠↠↠ a/n: I've written this deliberately where the dialogue can be mostly interchangeable between the two. I'm kind of going with the half drunk feeling of being hit on and swept away in a puddle of pure lust.

You see them every weekend at the club. They set their sights on a someone. They flirt with them, dance with them, make them laugh and feel special. They whisper in their ear and breathe along their neck. Then they leave with them. Every. Single. Week.

This week, they have their sights set on you.

“We see you here every week. What’s your name?”

“Oh you’re 24! You look 18.”

You hate what it’s doing to your insides. You hate how hard you’re blushing.

“Let us buy you a drink.”

"This is our special girl, y/n. Make sure you take care of her." They tell the bartender.

"You'll come dance with us, won't you, baby?”

Somehow you end up on the dance floor, Jisung dancing awfully close to your chest, Felix slipping behind you.

"You’re okay with us grinding against you, right?" Jisung steps closer, whispering against your ear. “Let us dance with you.” He says lustfully as he presses his hips to yours. Felix presses into from behind.

You feel both their hardening cocks pushing against you.

“Feel what you do to us, love.” Felix says in your ear as he runs his hands down your sides.

"You’re so pretty. I really need to know what your lips feel like."

“Come home with us, let us make you feel good, yeah?”

“We don’t bite. Well not too hard.”

You end up sandwiched between them in the back of the cab.

"I really need to know what your pussy feels like."

"Let us touch it, y/n. I bet your pussy is wet. Can we feel? Pretty please?"

They slide their hands up your skirt and finger fuck you right there on the backseat, while they kiss you like they will lose their minds if they don’t get to touch you.

You’re so wet for them. These two sweet, deadly, charismatic, horny, men. You feel like the only girl in the world. They do this every week. You’ll get to feel them in inside you soon. They've been inside the whole club-full of people.

"I'm so hard for you right now. Feel it."

“Me too, baby. Here. Touch it. You do this to us.”

"We've gotta have you."

You palm them over their pants while they stretch your open your pussy.

“So wet for us.”

“So tight.”

"That's a good girl... letting us play with you like this."

They lay you on one of their beds and your clothes disappear.

"Your pussy tastes so good. Your dripping. Taste her."

They swap while the other sucks your nipple.

You realise Felix is eating you out, as Jisung straddles your chest. "Baby, can you take care of me? I need your pretty mouth around my cock. That's it. Let me fuck your mouth."

"I think your beautiful pussy needs to come on a cock. Let me help you with that...perfect. So tight."

They get you in variety positions, taking turns in your sopping cunt. Covering you in their cum. Pulling orgasms from you like it's their full time job.

They've got you floating. buzzing, pliable, compliant. They know exactly what to say to have you swooning and sobbing "yes, please...do anything you want."

They give each other a knowing look.

"Anything we want?"

"Yes, anything."

"Can we try fucking you at the same time?"

@channieandhisgoonsquad @noellllslut @itsseohannbin @weareapackofstrays @kangnina @3rachasdomesticbanana @palindrome969 @xxkissesforchanniexx @chuuchuu1224 @fun-fanfics @wolfennracha

@3rachasdomesticbanana

@palindrome969

@xxkissesforchanniexx

@chuuchuu1224

@fun-fanfics

@wolfennracha

Sorry if you’re tagged twice… my end indicates my original tag of you didn’t work properly.

#han jisung smut #felix smut #skzsmut #jilix smut #jilix x reader #skz hard thoughts #sorshas after dark ask box

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weirdkpopgirl · 2 days

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Forever | Jaemin Imagine #13

Title: Forever

Genre: Tooth-rotting fluff ><

Warnings: light making out

Word Count: ~1k

Author's Note: Yet another story of mine that was inspired by my admiration for Jaemin. Trust me, I've liked a lot of k-pop guys. But for some reason, Jaemin stands out the most to me. Maybe because he's my ideal type. But every time I see him, I find something that makes my heart beat faster. I wonder if that's what falling in love feels like? Anyway, hope you guys like this. Thank you for reading ^ ^

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

The Totoro lamp on the accent table next to the television cast a soft glow that warmed the living room of your once lonely apartment. Cozied up at the edge of the gray loveseat, you sat with your knees pulled close to your chest, allowing your thoughts to wander as they often did past 10 p.m. However, those thoughts were interrupted by the light padding sound of slippers against the wooden floor panels. Soon after, the couch cushion next to you sank under added weight.

Then you felt the arms of your beloved wrap his arms snugly around your waist, and his warm lips planted a lingering kiss on your cheek without wasting another second. “Missed you,” he whispered, his voice slightly tickling your ear.

The corners of your lips curled into a fond smile, and you turned into his embrace so you could face the sweet man properly. You nestled comfortably between his legs, letting your hand naturally find its way to the back of his neck while your other hand brushed against the left side of his face.

“I missed you too, Nana,” you murmured, tenderly caressing his cheek. He leaned into your touch instantly, savoring it.

The simple action was enough to stir a flurry of emotions within you. In the brief moments of silence that passed, you studied your handsome boyfriend as if searching for any changes that might have occurred in the three weeks you had been apart. Other than his white-blond hair having grown longer so quickly after cutting it, you didn’t find any significant changes. Jaemin’s big beautiful eyes were as captivating as ever, complemented by his flirtatiously long eyelashes. His dark eyebrows were still perfectly arched, framing his expressive eyes, and his soft pink lips retained their subtle, endearing pout.

A small sigh from you couldn’t be suppressed, the sight of him having the same effect on you as always. Although, deep down you knew his kind-hearted personality made him even more attractive in your eyes.

“What’s on your mind, princess?” Jaemin asked in his dreamy deep voice that carried a mellowness at night. His eyes held a curiosity to them, and he didn’t need to say anything for you to know he was referring to your earlier distraction.

You hesitated for a second, before responding. “I was just thinking about relationships.”

Checking Jaemin’s reaction before continuing, you saw that his attention remained fully captured on you. The way he listened intently made your heart flutter so easily, a feeling you couldn’t quite explain.

“You know, I was watching YouTube before bed the other day,” you began to explain. “And I came across a few shorts about couples talking about how the first year is supposed to be the honeymoon phase, and then they start arguing a lot in the second year and often break up.”

Jaemin nodded, a gentle smile tugging on his lips. “I see. What’s your take on that, love?”

Although you had the answer to his question in your head, it took a moment for you to piece it together. “Hm, I don’t think there really should be a honeymoon phase. I mean, that’s not really the case for us.”

Almost instinctively, you glanced down at the diamond ring on your finger, its facets catching the light perfectly. A few days before Jaemin had to leave for Taipei with the Dreamies, he surprised you with a simple yet intimate proposal.

“Sure, we’ve both had to work on some things,” you continued, fixing your gaze on him once more. “But even after two years together, you still make me feel like a giddy teenager with a huge crush.”

Jaemin chuckled, his laughter causing a blush to tinge your cheeks. You knew how silly your words sounded, but they reflected your true feelings. However, it was rare for you to verbally express this to him. Before any doubts about being this honest could creep in, Jaemin’s hand moved to lovingly brush a lock of hair behind your ear.

“I feel exactly the same as you. Every day I discover something new I love about you, and every kiss we share feels just as special as our first,” he said sincerely.

A part of you sensed he said the last sentence as an excuse to kiss you, and sure enough, he leaned in to plant one on your lips shortly after. Even though you lost the number of times Jaemin has kissed you, you agree that all of them were cherishable.

Pulling away, you scrunched your nose slightly with a hint of skepticism in your voice. “Are we being too cheesy?”

If anyone had walked in and witnessed this, you were certain that they would cringe at hearing all the sweet, sappy things exchanged between the two of you. You could practically hear the fake gagging noises from his members.

“I’d like to think of it more as us being extra romantic,” Jaemin replied, wearing a playful smile that you secretly swooned over.

The conversation naturally faded into the background, as you lost yourselves in each other’s embrace once more. His lips moved against yours slowly, tenderly, without ever making you fear that he’d pull away anytime soon. One hand held your back securely, while the other gently cupped your face. Your fingers lightly ran through his light-colored strands as you melted into his touch.

“Gosh, I just want to marry you already,” Jaemin exhaled, a hint of sulkiness in his tone.

Despite his words causing you to blush profusely again, you relaxed into his arms and appreciated this quiet moment surrounded by love and warmth. Maybe you guys were pretty cheesy. But that didn’t make your feelings for each other any less real.

Being in love with Jaemin was a feeling you hoped would last forever.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

previous masterlist -> current masterlist

#nct dream #nctzen #kpop #czennie #nct dream imagines #nct dream fluff #nct dream scenarios #jaemin #nct #jaemin x reader #na jaemin #jaemin fluff #jaemin imagines #jaemin scenarios #nct dream x reader

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hanginwithhkatie · 9 hours

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It is truly unbelievable to me that I get to make this post today. Back in February I would NEVER have conceived of reaching this goal.

100 followers.

I am just completely blown away. This would not be possible without the amazing support of this community. When @deadeyedfae pushed me to try giving art another chance I figured I'd try for a week and then lose motivation entirely. I started to find more of myself in my art and that has been the most invaluable happiness I could experience in what has been a very turbulent stressful past few months. The advice I've received from fellow artists has helped improve my work so much (thank you so much @bubbleverseart , @kaylasartwork and , @welldrawnfish !!!!!)

But above all I finally feel like I've found an online community that I can genuinely call home. Some special shout outs to @skelotom @sixfoothalfling @sunification and @paintedbytosia for your advice and uplifting comments and messages. They helped me alot especially with the mess that is my life right now. I'm sure I missed some people here but please know I appreciate every single one of you so so very much. Your the reason I'm able to keep moving forwards even when times are rough.

Thank you. Thank you so so so much. You've all made me happier than you could possibly ever know. I hope to improve even more and to be more active in the community that I hope to consider my family.

Have the best day ever, you all have certainly made mine.

#lgbtq #lgbtq artist #lgbtqia artist #trans artist #digital art #transfem #transgender #transgirl #trans artwork #lgbt art #small artist #100 followers #thank you #i love you all #so much

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tipsyleaf · 1 day

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I think I genuinely found the perfect song for Leon and his wife as like "their song".

(Yes ik it's the song from Twilight but it's fitting!!!)

Now, when I think about them getting married I don't think they did a big wedding. They got married on a whim because Leon had vacation time coming up. They got married by a justice of the peace at a courthouse in front of everyone they cared about and rented a party room at a nice restaurant they really love just to have a good meal and be with everyone who matters.

They didn't have a cake, no flower toss, no first dance. But you did get to dress up, everyone did. Just shared their happiness with everyone. You had a honeymoon for sure though. 2 blissful weeks in Italy together, the vacation they'd planned on taking together. Just to have a romantic get away.

You promised each other that you'd do something special for your first anniversary but you got pregnant and Violet was barely 3 months old on your wedding anniversary that the thought slipped both your minds.

But one afternoon Leon's heading home from a particularly grueling case. Everything that could have gone wrong almost did. And of course he's sitting in traffic when all he wants is to go home an see his wife and daughter. The only thing sounds are the engine and occasional honks from idiot drivers. So he turns on the radio to fill the silence. He catches the ending of some other song. The radio dj coming on and talking for a bit, he reaches for the dial when piano keys fill the car. He just goes back to waiting, sitting back in his seat as he does so.

And my God does he get emotional... He doesn't know if it's the stress he's under or if it's that he can't stop thinking about how relevant everything feels.

He knows his life is hard, It's been hard since that night in Raccoon City and everything that's happened to him. All the people he's seen suffer and the awful things he's seen. But once he met you he finally had something good. Something that gave him hope.

His life changed so much in the past 5 years of being together. You loved him. You married him. You gave him the family he's always wanted and his life is barely over a quarter of the way through. He gets to come home to you and the beautiful baby girl he loves so much.

How could he not finally be thankful for being alive?

Because he gets to live not to just be a weapon anymore. He's got something to look forward to.

Your anniversary rolls around. It's almost midnight and you're prepping your lunch for the next day at work. As Leon walks into the kitchen. Doing his usual schtick of wrapping his arms around you and burying his face in your neck. Giving you the usual kisses with a tight squeeze so you can't escape his love as you squeal for mercy. He eventually stops his torturing affection and looks at the stove clock as you zip you're lunchbox closed.

Soon you're lifted from the floor being carried by the waist out of the kitchen.

"Leon! I'm not done yet!"

"It's our anniversary now so I get to do what I please."

"That's not how this works!"

He sets you on the floor, standing as you playfully glare at him. He hustles over to the stereo, plugging his phone in and turning it up, not loud enough to wake the baby.

"What're you doing?" You question, hearing the piano fill the living room as he hustles around the couch.

"What we should of done last year. Our first dance. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you close.

"Leon, we've danced since we got married."

"Yes, but we never picked a song! So just, dance with me and listen. Please? Pleeeease?" He bounces on place till you sigh and wrap your arms around him.

You just stare into each other's eyes while you slow dance. Swaying gently to the music as you listen. Both of you getting emotional by the end of the song. Tears streaming down both your faces. Still smiling as you hug him tight.

"Being with you was one of the best choices I've ever made. I love you so much."

#leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x fem reader #leon s kennedy #🌿 ivy writes #resident evil x reader #🏡 domestic life with leon kennedy #Spotify

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mountainsandmayhem · 10 hours

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Aisle Amore

Pairing: Marcus Pike x Female Reader Summary: You truly never know who you might meet in the grocery store. CW: no smut, all fluff. Flirting, mention of divorce, talks of food, more adorable flirting. Word Count: 3.4k AN: I've gone soft!! I couldn't stop thinking about how the couple in Wonderful Tonight and Netflix & Chill met and even though no one asked, this is exactly how they met. I worked in a grocery store for almost 15 years and I can tell you right now that I would to SPRINTING to the pasta aisle. Special thank you to @mermaidgirl30 for beta reading and both her and @littlevenicebitch69 for helping me come up with a title. Dividers by @saradika-graphics

To you, there’s nothing worse than asking for help. You’ve been fiercely independent your entire life, and these snapped ligaments have been testing you. Your friends say they don’t mind helping, but YOU mind them helping. The pain in your ankle has finally subsided enough that you can put a little weight on it and only use one crutch.

Freedom!

You shut your laptop at 6 pm, change into something that isn’t pyjama pants and begrudgingly put on a bra. The first stop on your newly found freedom tour is the grocery store. Thirteen year old you would be appalled at how excited you are over this. You jot down all the ingredients you’ll need to make homemade pasta, marinara sauce and meatballs.

Living in downtown DC has lots of perks, one of them being you can walk to the grocery store that’s just around the block. After gingerly testing your ankles a few times you decide you can walk there. Your dad’s voice echoes through your head, “This family doesn’t cry, take care of yourself, don’t depend on anyone but you”.

The walk there is easy, it feels good to be out in the summer evening sun, soaking in the vitamin D that you’ve been missing out on the last few weeks. You grab one of those small baskets with wheels and head into the store. It might be dramatic, but it’s been almost three weeks since you’ve been out on your own and you feel that same hyped elation you had at 16 when you got your license and your parents allowed you to go out on your own the first time. Except at 16 you picked up your friends and went to the record store, you were much cooler in your youth.

“Stick to the list,” you say to yourself, realizing you’re slowly becoming just like your mother. That’s fucking depressing.

The first items are olive oil and flour, you crutch along, the sounds of metal clicking and the rubber bottom squeaking following you as you move along the shiny white tile floor. A song you vaguely remember hearing during your childhood plays overhead, Eric Clapton singing about a woman looking lovely. The bakery must have fresh bread, and the delicious scent of it makes your mouth water.

Focus!

As you turn down the pasta aisle, you brush past a man in a suit who’s looking at the canned pasta sauces, poor sap, and stop about ten feet away from him. The small bag of flour you need is on an easily accessible shelf but of course, there’s only one left and it’s all the way at the back.

Marcus holds up a jar of canned marinara, silently humming along to Wonderful Tonight by Eric Clapton. He swears he hears his grandmother on his mother’s side rolling in her grave. She wasn’t Italian, but owned a restaurant and was definitely looking down at him ashamed that he was BUYING something she taught him to make.

Sorry grams, he thinks, just as someone hobbles past him, vanilla wafting behind her, temporarily replacing the scent of the fresh bread he’s also going to pick up. His grandmother might come back just to slap him for this dinner tonight. Granted, he did just return from seeing his ex and her new boyfriend so maybe she’d take pity on him. Bake him those gooey chocolate chip cookies he loved so much.

As he turns to head toward the pasta he sees a woman who quite frankly takes his breath away. She’s so beautiful that he almost can’t take her all in at once. Her bare legs are toned and tanned, wrapped in long black biker shorts, paired with a plain grey t-shirt and unzipped black hoodie. One high top converse laced up on one foot, the other in an uncomfortable looking boot. Her hair is in a low messy bun with almost too perfectly placed pieces along her neck and face. She seems to invade every ounce of him, until all he can see is her and all he can smell is warm vanilla. His mouth goes dry, and his heartbeat fills his ears.

This next bit happens so quickly that he doesn’t have time to even think about it. But you would later describe it as not one of your finest moments, and he would describe it as the moment that changed his life.

He watches as you reach above your head, raising up on the tippy toe of your good foot. As you lean forward, your hollow aluminum crutch slips out from underneath you and falls to the ground. An echoing tinny bang startles you and you stumble, putting too much pressure on your broken foot. The sweetest sounding “Ouch! Motherfucker,” leaves your pouty pink lips as Marcus rushes to catch you.

“Whoa,” he says as he reaches out to steady you, one hand wrapping around your hip, the other cupping your elbow, helping you off your injured leg. “Are you ok?”

Your cheeks flush as you look up at him. “Sorry, thank you.”

Your bright blue eyes wash over him, and something tugs behind his heart. Eric Clapton singing "Oh my darling, you are wonderful tonight" as he stands there temporarily stunned, unsure of where he is or what is name is. It's just you.

It doesn’t make any sense, you could be married for all he knows, but something about you draws him in. He didn’t think he’d feel this way again for a very long time, but he needs to find a way to keep talking to you.

“Let me get that for you,” he says, his hand moving from your elbow, reaching up and easily plucking the flour off the shelf.

“Thanks, I could have gotten it.” You say and he fights to stop from laughing. He can tell that you’re not someone who asks for help. No, you’re independent and strong willed. And fuck if that doesn’t just make that tug behind his heart pull that much harder.

“I know you can, you just scared me.” He looks down at you softly as you stare up at him.

He’s suddenly very aware that he still has one hand on your hip. Your shirt had ridden up as you wobbled, and the skin of your hip is soft and warm against his palm. He finds himself wondering if the rest of you is just as comforting. Just as an inviting. The light scent of your vanilla perfume fills the small space between the two of you.

“Look,” he says, finding it inside himself to peel his hand off you now that you’re steady, placing your flour in your basket and bending to grab your crutch. “My grandma is already cursing me from heaven for buying canned sauce and boxed pasta. Can you please let me help you?”

You open your mouth and then close it, almost like you’re trying to come up with a reason to not let him, so he quickly adds, “For my sake.”

You laugh through your nose, shaking your head and taking your crutch from this incredibly handsome stranger.

Please don’t be married. Or a total creep.

“Smooth,” you say teasingly.

He tugs at his white button up shirt collar. “Is it hot in here?" He fakes a dramatic cough, "I swear - she’s watching me.”

You look up at the white painted ceiling of the grocery store. “OK, grandma. Chill. I’ll let him help me.”

When you look back at him he’s smiling from ear to ear, and if you thought he was handsome before; well, fuck, there’s not even a word to describe how unbelievably charming he looks right now.

He looks down at your basket before saying, “Do you have a big list?”

“Umm,” you say holding out the special lined paper you have to make grocery lists. “I have a few things, ya.”

His thick fingers brush lightly against yours as he takes the list. You can’t help but notice that he’s not wearing a wedding ring, score, his nails are trimmed short and his cuticles are nicely manicured. You assume he must have some sort of fancy office job, like a lawyer or an accountant. He seems to radiate stability and you didn't realize you could be so aroused by fingers.

“Are you making pasta? And sauce?” He asks as his brown doe eyes scan your list.

“I am,” you say proudly. You might not be a world famous chef, but you take pride in your cooking abilities.

He smiles back at you again. “Stay here,” he says softly, “I’m gonna grab a cart.”

As he turns to walk away, taking your basket and his sauce with him, you notice the way his grey suit jacket clings to his broad shoulders. Accountant by day, muscle model by night? Muscle model? Great, he’s broken your brain.

It doesn’t take long before you hear the distinct rumbling of the plastic wheels of a shopping cart heading your way. Just as your handsome stranger comes back into the aisle “At Last” by Etta James starts to play.

“I’m Marcus, by the way,” he says, grabbing a box of pasta on the shelf and sitting it next to his sauce in the top part of the cart.

You say your name and notice the tiniest glint in his eye as the sound of it wraps around him. “Well then, we’d better get going on this list.”

He moves slowly, allowing you to set the walking pace. He’s taken your list and the entire thing feels almost too domestic, like you can envision yourself doing this every weekend with him for the rest of your lives. Maybe there would even be a kid in that little part where he puts his boxed pasta and canned sauce.

“Alright, so we covered names and who grew up where. So, what do you do for a living?” You ask, snatching a bottle of olive oil off the shelf.

“I - uh - I work in law enforcement,” he says.

You look at him, then his tie, then back at him. With a hint of amusement in your voice you say, “Pretty fancy dress code. What are you? Like FBI or something.”

“Yes, actually. And now that you know that, I miiiight have to kill you.”

You laugh, “Sure know how to put a girl at ease, Agent Pike.”

The way you say agent, all teasing and flirty, goes straight to his cock. He’s been called Agent Pike thousands of times over his career but it’s never sent a shiver down his body like that before.

He runs a hand over his patchy scruff. “I’m kidding. About the killing part, not the FBI part.”

“Thanks for clarifying,” you laugh.

Whitney Houston’s voice floats across the store, singing about dancing with someone who loves her.

Neither of you is particularly paying attention to your list or what aisle you’re in. You snake up and down each aisle, both of you occasionally grabbing something you need.

“What about you?” He asks. Something about the way he asks a question seems different. It’s like when Marcus asks something he’s genuinely asking, not just trying to force conversation. With every answer you give his eyes focus on yours, he nods and seems curious and excited to hear what you have to say.

The bar is truly in hell if I’m turned on by a man who’s just treating me like a human.

“I run a small online store for my, umm, for my designs.” This part is always awkward, men change how they treat you once they find out what you do for a living. You avoid his eyes, he’s so goddamn handsome and you’re already disappointed that he’ll soon give you an ick with how he’ll respond to your career, how all men respond.

“Your designs? Are you an artist?” His eyes light up and he stands a little taller when he asks, he must love art. He’s going to be thrilled to find out your best friend owns a gallery, and probably even more thrilled when he learns you hurt your ankle falling off a step ladder she had you posing on as she painted you, and yes, you were completely nude.

“No,” you laugh. “I design clothing. Sort of.” You continue avoiding his eyes and chew on the inside of your cheek as you grab some dried oregano and place it in the basket.

“Hey,” he says softly, stopping by the spices, “You don’t have to tell me something you don’t want me to know.”

“It’s not that. It’s just,” you stop, glancing up at his warm chocolate brown eyes. His Adam’s Apple bobs as he swallows, and you have the sudden urge to sink your teeth into his neck. “Men just usually treat me differently once they know.”

He narrows his eyes at you and his lips curl into a tight lipped and curious smile. “That’s clickbait. Now you have to tell me.”

“Or you’ll kill me?” You laugh.

“Yes, FBI remember,” he says sarcastically.

You take a deep breath through your nose before you begin. “Ok, I design and sell lingerie.” You try to sound as casual as possible, smiling sweetly at him before you start walking again.

Marcus doesn’t follow along so you look over your shoulder at him. Is he blushing?

“Well,” he says, clearing his throat and avoiding your eyes. “I don’t see how that would make someone treat you differently.”

“Then why are you blushing, Pike?” You flutter your lashes at him as he catches up to you in the aisle.

The pink of his cheeks deepened, “I’m not blushing. Pretty sure I got a sunburn when I grabbed the cart.”

“Ah, yes. I’ve heard that being indoors during sunset is a very dangerous UV time.” You joke.

He laughs, “You’d be shocked how many people don’t believe it.”

You both laugh as you head towards the produce department for your tomatoes and onions. Elvis’s ‘Can’t Help Falling In Love’ comes over the speakers, and even though other people are shopping, it feels like it’s being targeted at just the two of you. You pluck a few tomatoes from the shelf and he opens the little plastic bag for you to place them in.

He takes a breath to start speaking and you brace yourself for the inevitable. All men do it. They all either ask what your company is called so they can look up your Instagram later or they’re bold and flat out ask you to model some of your designs for them.

“Where’d you learn to make pasta?” He asks, his voice quivering at the closeness of your body to his.

“Umm, I sort of did an Eat, Pray, Love thing recently.” You say quietly, smiling up at him. It’s the tiniest movement, but you swear his eyes flick to your lips as your hand brushes against his while you reach into the bag. Your heart is pounding behind your ribs, it’s almost unfair how handsome he looks under these fluorescent lights.

“Oh? Like you went to Italy?” His voice is low and nervous as he watches you picking up tomatoes, squeezing them gently and smelling them. Carefully choosing the best ones.

“Yes. Without spilling my whole life story, I got married young and then divorced a few years ago. I just kind of needed a hard reset on myself.” You drop two more tomatoes in the bag and then side step, or more more like side hobble, to the onions.

“Huh,” he says, “I can honestly say that I know exactly what you mean by that.”

You both smile at each other, you swear you can see his pulse flutter in his neck before he says, “Unfortunately, I think we have everything on your list,” he finishes off his sentence by saying your name and it sends an explosion of butterflies in your lower belly. You don’t know if you’ve ever met someone who makes you feel like you have somehow known them for your whole life but is also brand new.

“Sorry. You probably have places to be and I’m -“ Your voice trails off when he slowly steps even further into your space.

“That’s not what I meant,” he says softly, his fingertips brushing against yours causing a buzzing up your arm. Just then ‘I knew I loved you’ by Savage Garden rains down from the speakers. Marcus laughs gently and continues, “Is it just me or has the music been interesting in here tonight?”

You move your pointer finger just a hair so it brushes against his, “ya, sounds like the crab from The Little Mermaid is in charge.”

A laugh from his stomach passes his lips, it’s joyous and melodic and even though you’ve just met him, you want to make him laugh like that for the rest of your life. He’s smiling so big that you can see all his straight white teeth. His head tips forward slightly and the skin around his eyes crinkles. You’re both so close, he smells like mint and a new book and everything around you seems to fall away, blurring around the edges. It’s overwhelming. Dizzying even. He’s the one. You can’t explain it, but you were meant to be in this grocery, with this annoying boot and crutch.

“That’s not quite the comparison I would have used, but yes.” His eyes dance around yours, still laced with amusement and happiness. “Is he a crab or lobster?”

“I think he’s a crab,” you say, pulling your hand back from his to stop yourself from leaping off that cliff and into his arms.

“I think he’s a lobster,” he counters, stepping back but never breaking the connection of his eyes with yours.

As you head towards the checkout you glance towards the shopping cart nervously, remembering that you walked here.

Both of you pay for your groceries in a comfortable silence and he scolds you teasingly for trying to grab your bags. “Grandma is still watching.”

The two of you head for the exit. “Did you park somewhere?”

“No. I can take them from here,” you’re not going to let this man drive you somewhere or walk you home. That’s ridiculous. You are strong and you’ve already impeded his life enough.

He lifts his eyebrow suspiciously and turns just a touch so you can’t reach your bags. “You walked here, didn’t you?”

“It’s really fine, Marcus. It’s not far. Thank you for your help. You didn’t need to do that.”

“I have an apartment that way,” he says, nodding his head in the same direction you need to go.

“Oh that’s very forward of you, but I know better than to go to a secondary location with a stranger.” And he does it again, that beautiful, happy laugh. “I’m in the same direction.”

You walk down the quiet street. People always say they wouldn’t want to live downtown because it’s too noisy, but truthfully, after the work crowd disperses for the evening and the dinner rush parts, it’s quite peaceful.

“How sure are you that he’s a lobster? Willing to make a bet?”

He looks over at you cautiously. “Alright. I’ll play along. I’m 100% sure he’s a lobster. What’s the bet?”

“Wow. Marcus Pike, does the FBI know you’re such a risk taker?”

He says your last name and follows it with, “Quit stalling, what’s the bet.”

“Ok ok. Once I’m off all the painkillers. If he’s a crab, I make you REAL pasta. If he’s a lobster, you take me out for real pasta.”

You both stop at the same time in front of the same building, “This is me. So is it a bet?”

Marcus pulls a key fob out of his pocket, “This is also me. And yes, we have a bet.”

You cross the lobby together, you select your floors and exchange phone numbers on the way up and then he finally gives you your bags.

“Thank you,” you say, smiling at him sweetly as the elevator approaches your floor. “I appreciate you using your grandma to help me.”

He covers his heart with his hand. “I would never!”

As the elevator comes to a halt he glances up at you sheepishly and your heart almost breaks open right then and there at how devastatingly handsome and heart meltingly adorable he is all at the same time.

You smile like a damn fool the moment you’re out of that elevator. Of all the ways you thought your night was going to go, it did not involve a very charming stranger making you all nervous and delusional.

The second you get inside your apartment you fight the urge to prove yourself right and cash in on our dinner, but you already miss him, so you text him.

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