#coming back to drawing after a while is really nice

[anonf1writer]

“but please shut up” — ln4

summary: from the SINGLE PARENT UNIVERSE and based on THIS request, I present to you 2k words about the moment Yn first said the three words to Lando, and then told him to shut up (or something like that). (I am reposting this because I didn’t like the first version, so... yeah. no more yn now)

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You and Lando had been dating for no longer than six months when the words finally slipped out of your mouth. 

It was a Saturday morning. A sunny one, to be precise. One of those rare occasions that normally meant peeling Olivia away from the TV and getting her ready for a picnic at the park, or for riding a bike, or for doing just any activity that allowed you to soak the sun as much as possible. 

On that particular Saturday morning, though, the clear sky wasn’t the only rare thing happening in London.

For starters, you weren’t at your place, but at Lando’s apartment. Something that had never happened before. Not in the morning, at least. Not as a result of spending the night there. 

Then, of course, because you weren’t at your own place, there was also the fact that Olivia wasn’t there, with you. Instead, your sister had taken her to Bristol so she could spend a fun weekend with her cousins. And so you and Lando could have some time alone. 

So, yeah, of course—things were different that morning. 

And yes, maybe you could have sensed that something else would happen, something you didn’t see coming because it also normally never happened. 

But you didn’t.

All you did was wake up wrapped in Lando’s arms, kiss him good morning, and drag yourself out of bed. On your way across the bedroom, you grabbed one of his hoodies and put it on. Warm, oversized, and smelling like him. Exactly how you liked it. 

Once you made it to the kitchen, the space opened into sunlight and sleek surfaces. Fancy. Clean. Organized. Looking not even one bit like the messy tiny home you owned. With no crayons forgotten on the table, no mermaids and unicorns in the mugs and cups and plates, no colorful drawings stuck to the fridge. And yet just as comfortable and cozy in its own Lando Norris’ way. 

It made you smile, for some reason. A smile that you kept on your face while trying to decide what to make for breakfast, and that only grew bigger when Lando finally joined you in, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder while you cracked four eggs into a small bowl. 

“Hmm,” he murmured, his morning voice sending chills down through your spine. “You look really nice in my kitchen… Wearing my clothes… Smelling like me…”

You tilted your head slightly, leaning into his curls as he kissed your neck and just settled there, keeping up with your movements—with the whisking of the eggs and the soft clink of the fork echoing in that quiet morning. 

You could tell Lando was happy with that setting, with spending the morning together after also having spent the night together. Something you couldn’t really do very often, considering you still weren’t ready to add him into Olivia’s routine like that. Not without making sure—making fully, fully sure—that this wasn’t just a temporary thing for him. That he was staying in for good, and that he was actually willing to have a role not just in your life, but also in your daughter’s life. 

Which, to be honest, was becoming more and more easy to see as time went by. 

Like when he stepped away to grab the milk from the fridge and very casually asked, “Talked to Liv yet?”

“Not yet,” you said, then waited until he had splashed a bit of the milk into the small bowl to keep going. “Told my sister I’d give them a call after breakfast.” 

You sprinkled in a pinch of salt and went back to whisking, meanwhile Lando got himself busy by grabbing a pan and dropping a knob of butter into it. 

“I hope she’s having fun,” he said, distracted as he switched on the hob and placed the pan above the humming heat. “Y’know, I was thinking about what it’d be like to take her to the beach.” 

You paused. 

You paused and stared at the bowl. Right in front of you. 

And Lando laughed. 

And the butter sizzled gently. 

And then the smell of it filled the space. 

Warm. Comforting. 

“Sandcastle chaos, for sure,” he added.

Still chuckling. 

Still nonchalant. 

As if mentioning he had been thinking about your daughter and about how it would be to spend time with her didn’t bring this funny feeling to your chest. As if it wasn’t a big deal. As if it was normal. 

You swallowed.

To be fair, when it came to Lando, it actually wasn’t weird. Because he did that a lot—dropping how much he cared in the most subtle, random ways. In the little things. 

But this morning, for some reason, it seemed to happen more than usual. 

He did it again, for instance, as you were sitting around the small table and having breakfast. As he was telling you about these new clothes he had bought online. Casually, randomly. Just by asking, “Purple’s her favourite, right?” 

To which you furrowed her brows and mumbled a simple, “huh?” 

“Liv’s.” He scraped the fork against his plate, gathering the scrambled eggs, and shrugged. “I saw these really cute tiny trainers that made me think of her.” He scooped up the food and shoved it inside his mouth. But he didn’t stop, he just chewed as he talked, muffling the words. “They were… Mmph… Puh’pul… Yeah?… Puh’pul’s her fav’rite… Innit?”

 “I—Yeah. Purple’s her favourite color, yeah.”

He smiled, swallowed and nodded, all proud of himself. 

“I knew it.” He took a sip of coffee, then focused on the beans still left on his plate. “Didn’t get them though…” He shoved the fork back into his mouth. Words mumbled as he chewed again. “Didn’know’er size, so… Oh!” He swallowed and shuffled on his seat. “Shit.” He coughed, choking a little around the food that had gone down his throat. “Um… Just remembered… Did I tell you about this… About this new idea we had for the next collection? I didn’t, did I?” 

“Um… I don’t think so, no…”

“Right. Yeah. So, listen to this…” 

And so he rambled about something else. 

And you listened. 

Trying to absorb as much as possible. Trying to understand. Trying to make sense. 

But then, as you were putting the dishes in the sink and talking about the next few weekends and how busy his schedule would be, he did it again. 

He brought her up again.

“I’ll try to come home as much as I can,” he said, “but y’know, if you ever want to come to a race one day, I’d love to have you there. Not just you, but Liv, too. Like, not now, of course, but later, when you’re ready. I’d like that.” 

And like a cherry on top, while you had your hands submerged in warm soapy water, he asked, “Hey, is it weird if I frame that little drawing Liv made the other day?”

You stopped.

And blinked at the plate you had in your hands. 

“The one she said was for good luck?” Lando added, pacing in the kitchen. Not in a nervous way, but in that very particular excited version of him. Full of caffeine. Hair sticking up in three different directions. Hands moving along with his words. Babbling. 

Always babbling.

“Or maybe not frame it but put it on the fridge or… I don’t know… Something. Just… Somewhere I can always see it… Y’know? Would that be weird?” 

You blinked again.

“Because I won’t if it’s weird… Don’t want to make it weird…”

“Lando…” you mumbled, eyes still fixed on the dish in your hand. 

“I mean I don’t know what the protocol is here… I know you said you wanted to take things slow when it comes to her, and I totally get it… I mean you know way better than I do, so I trust your judgment… It’s just that she’s so great, y’know? And that drawing is so cute. It’s been back and forth with me for weeks now, but I wanted to check with you because I—”

“For the love of God!” You dropped the sponge and the plate and turned around, water dripping from your fingers as you glared at him. “Lando, I swear I love you so much, but can you just please shut the fuck up for a moment?”

Lando stopped. 

No. Lando froze.

Mid-step. 

Not even looking at you.

Just.. Hand reaching into the cabinet. Eyes fixed ahead. Blinking to the clean tableware. 

And you didn’t even notice, so you just sighed. Loudly. Dropping your shoulders. Grabbing a tea towel to wipe your hands. And then trying again.

“Sorry. I don’t mean like, shut the fuck up, but just… Y’know, give me a minute to think? You’re like… Nonstop right now! Just going on and on and on about Livie and it’s just—”

“What did you just say?”

You looked at him.

He was still facing away, still frozen on the spot.

“That you’re going on and on about—” 

“No. Not that.” He dropped his arms to his sides and turned towards you. “Before.”

You frowned, searching inside your head for whatever you could’ve said that made him look like that right now—pale, shocked, terrified. On the verge of freaking out.

“I don’t know. What did I—”

“Love me,” Lando murmured. “You said you love me.”

“What?”

“You said,” —he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, as if gathering the strength to say the words— “Lando I love you so much but can you please shut the fuck up.”

“Oh.”

“That’s what you said. You said you love me.”

“Shit. Lan…”

You stepped forward. 

And he stepped backward. 

“Nuh-uh.” He raised one finger, pointing it at you. “Nope. Stay there.”

Your lips tugged up.

“Babe… C’mon.”

“You love me.”

“Mhmm…”

Lando dropped his arm.

Then opened his mouth, then closed it again. 

And then he looked away, dropping his posture like he had just been punched in the stomach.

“Holy shit,” he said. “I didn’t—I wasn’t—wow. Wow. Ok. Okay. Yeah. That’s—That’s just… Ok. I mean, did you—You really meant that?”

At that, you laughed. 

“Lando…” You dropped the tea towel on the counter and took a step forward, a tiny one. Just to make sure you could. That he wouldn’t run off. “Baby. Just breathe, okay?”

“I am breathing.”

“You’re also sweating.”

“I’m not—” He raised one hand, touching the back of his neck. And then he shook his head. “Maybe, who cares. That’s not the point.”

“Right… Then what’s the point?” you tried, softly this time. Stepping just a bit closer.

“That you love me.”

“Okay.” Standing in front of him, you placed your hands on his chest and nodded. “So? You’ll get used to it.”

Lando snorted and looked at you, his own hands instantly finding your waist. Almost involuntarily. As if they belonged there. As if it was the only natural reaction when having you so close to him. 

“You’re just… You think this is funny?”

“A little, yeah.” 

“I’m freaking out here.”

“I know. I know you would. That’s why I’ve been holding myself from saying it out loud.” 

He pulled you closer, and yet also flinched. Chin and head jerking back slightly while he made sure your body was as close as possible to his. “Why would you ever do that?”

“Why?!” You laughed and slid your hands up his chest, then up his shoulders and neck, until you were able to link your fingers through the short curls on the back of his head. “Did you see your reaction just now?”

“So? Just because I’m weird and freak out like this sometimes doesn’t mean that I… Y’know… That I don’t… I mean I just…”

“I know.” You nodded and launched yourself forward, kissing his cheek before landing back on your feet. “I know you do, babe. So whenever you’re ready. That’s okay.”

He sighed and leaned down, pressing his forehead against yours. 

“Bloody hell I do. But now I’m gonna wait until you least expect it. Freak the hell out of you, too.”

You laughed and arched forward, barely lifting off your heels as you reached for a kiss.

Lando reacted quickly, closing his eyes and kissing you back.

And then, around his lips, you murmured, “Bring it on, babe. I dare you.” 

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[imnothanah]

Childhood best friend!Ushijima

Context: Random thoughts on Ushijima as your childhood best friend. Friends to lovers

Ushijima who has liked you since kindergarten. His dad thought it was only a puppy crush and didn’t pay too much mind to it since he thought it would eventually go away once he grew up (It didn’t). Ushijima father was shocked when he saw his son holding hands with someone’s daughter at the playground. She was eating a lollipop, staring at it like it was the most interesting thing in the world while his son stared with bright big eyes, slightly red cheeks and biggest smile in the world.

Ushijima who saw you were the prettiest girl in the world and has developed a crush on you since kindergarten. He drowned himself in fairytales, daydreamed and drew his thoughts, that being him as the prince and you as the princess that needed recusing. He drew it after much consideration and decided to give to you it as a birthday gift.

Ushijima who got you a lollipop and drawing as a gift, he intended them as offerings to confess, but standing face to face with you got him all shy and words died up in his mouth .

Ushijima who finally gather up all his courage to confess but you couldn't understand. Despite his words being straightforward “I like you!”, you couldn’t comprehend his words or actions, but you knew candy, and it is delicious so you took his offerings anyways “Yummy, thanks”.

Ushijima who didn’t think much and thought you and him were together officially since you accepted his gift offering.

Ushijima’s dad was shocked to see he brought a friend home, a little girl from daycare home to play in the front yard. His dad’s mouth hung open in disbelief. He couldn’t quite put his shock into words.. “Kids these days they grow up too fast. Or am I living too slow?” Or “I raised a gentleman” after seeing how much he cared for you.

(His dad also started to welcome you home more often, inviting you to dinner and coming over to hang out with his son.)

You who weren't good at remembering things, so you could remember much in pre school. Your memories start as soon as elementary. All you knew was there was this boy who spawned in your life and has never left since kindergarten. But he was nice and caring so you didn’t mind his presence. You also found out he just yaps a lot around you specifically, and finds it endearing. He talks a lot but it isn’t annoying, instead you found his bluntness funny at times.

Ushijima who would always walk you home, and would even dare to be late to practices to walk you home (or at least to the bus station if you insist that you could go home by yourself).

He would walk you home then run back to school or sometimes ask you to stay during volleyball practices. You didn’t mind staying behind to wait for him. You often found yourself dosing off and waking up while he was piggybacking you home actually. (This continued all the was up to high school)

Ushijima was famous for his strength at a young age. And once, he spiked so hard that the ball flew off course and went straight to your face. Ushijima genuinely thought he had killed you because the hit was pretty hard, and it made you lay there like you were unconscious. Internally, he was panicking. He thought this was the end and you’re breaking up with him. He immediately rushed over to check your condition while silently blaming himself for hitting so hard. He was only assured when you started moving again and laughed at the situation while continuously assuring him since he looked really sad and remorseful. (He started practicing his spike control a lot more since he didn’t want that to happen again).

You who started going to his volleyball matches since elementary and found it interesting. Every time he scores. especially a hard one (triple blockers, scoring while his form was still crumbling, surprising the team by using right hand, you name it), he would immediately look for you in a crowd and you only continue playing once you gave him a nod or thumbs up or something like a signal of approval.

Ushijima who was strong and healthy most his life, so when he does get sick, it means the fever is really bad and he just dies immediately. You remember visiting him after school to give him get better cards from his teammates and classmates, he insists that he could sit up but you told him he should just rest and he immediately complied. You read him all the letter people sent and even helped writing his thank you letter to everyone that day. You could tell the fever was bad since he kept looking at the ceiling while squinting his eyes, trying to think of words. The fever was so bad that he could only see and see blurry lines. Then, you fed him soup and medicine that his dad left behind before work, tugged him to bed and went home. (He takes 3-4 days to recover average)

In high school, volleyball started getting really competitive and he would always stay behind after school to practice. It was also during this time that you realized he was changing. (Or something inside you were changing). His shoulders were broader and he looked more reliable than ever, but most noticeably, his features were getting more defined. In middle school, you could sometimes see his ears go red whenever he gets a compliment thanks from nice old ladies for helping with carrying their groceries bags, but it slowly disappeared once he started high school. Now he just nods. You started developing feelings for him during high school too an, saw signs that he reciprocated the same sentiment. He would buy stuff for you from the cafeteria or vending machine, stuffing your mouth with food, insisting that you should eat more (He did this in middle school occasionally), while stroking your cheek (now this, THIS is something He didn’t do this before high school, was he getting more bold? I wonder who taught him) Ushijima has spare hair ties in his bag since he knows you would sometimes forget your own and learned how to tie your hair up for you. Piggy backs home from practice upgrade to princess carry and then there was the occasional flowers every month, complying to your wishes without much thought. These made you confused, you guys weren’t a thing (you guys were, for Ushijima) his teammates asked who you were and he would always casually say you were together, proud and clear. So Tendou gave him tips about how to keep this relationship stable. Actually he was always this caring since kindergarten, but things just got more prominent as high school came, thanks to the help of Tendou, Ushijima acted more boyfriend like, instead of a best friend.

Sometimes you guys would plan a two people hangout, and you did it once more today. You were confused with Ushijima during this time and internally panicked so you also invited Tendou to tag along to the amusement park trip without thinking. On the day of the hangout, you found Ushijima getting even bolder. You caught him inhaling the scent your hair, putting hands on your side to keep you from being lost, looking at you with those eyes. And to make things more confusing, during important parts, Tendou would disappear among the crowds.

The whole day was awkward, at least for you it was, and on the last stop, Tendou disappeared once more. “You guys go ahead, im afraid of heights.” Tendou chirped as he happily pushed you guys onto the ferris wheel. You were quiet the whole ride, and to top it off, Ushijima looked hella good today, especially under the radiance of the sunset. “Damn it” you quietly mumbled.

“Are you alright? You’ve been awful quiet” Ushijima said as he looked at you, voice laced with concern. There it is, that expression that eye contact and especially the look in his eyes. The face that never makes your heart flutter every time. Looking at him now would only complicate the situation more so you started panicking and tried looked anywhere, everywhere but him.

“Y-yeah im fine its just-” Before you could finish your sentence, he placed his hand on your forehead, checking for temperature and the words died in your throat actually.

“You’re red. Are you really fine?” He looks at you while squinting his eyes. Which made you panicked and quickly slapped his hands off and stood up to a level that he couldn’t touch your face.

Now this is just unfair, your panic wasn’t completely unreasonable and uncalled for but it made you feel bad about yourself. A confusion and shock now display on his face. He squints his eyes slightly like he was thinking something. You don’t know what he is thinking but he was probably shock and hurt.

“I- sorry- It’s just” You panicked and sat back down with your hands covering your face. “I don’t know how to feel these past few days.” You started “You’re making me confused every time you look at he with those eyes!”

“What eyes?” Ushijima said as he slowly cups your hand as he slowly guides it off from your face. “THOSE!” You said as you once more panicked.

”Ushijima Wakatoshi, you’ve made me VERY confused with MY. FEELINGS. Sometimes, I FEEL like you act like MY BOYFRIEND, but then you’ve been my friend for WHO KNOWS HOW LONG, I CAN’T TELL IF I’M LOSING MY MIND OR IF YOU’RE JUST MESSING WITH ME.

Ive tried to calm down, and I myself, ‘No, he’s just your friend, you’re overthinking,’ but then BAM you say something that makes me think, Wait. Is he?? Is he actually into me. LIKE WHAT?!?!?

Im tired! You’ve blurred the line of our relationship and I’m tired of pretending it doesn’t affect- IN WHICH A LOT.

WAKATOSHI, I- I THINK I LIKE YOU, A LOT”

.

.

.

Silence.

You could bring yourself to look at him, and he just stares at you.

“Sorry-“ You quickly murmured and this time, misreading the silence as rejection.

”Wait no- Sorry I’m just shocked.” Ushijima quickly assured “I thought we were already a thing.”

“Huh?” You looked at him with confusion.

-

Turns out Ushijima genuinely thought you were dating ever since preschool.

“Remember that candy I gave you? I that was my offerings for you to be my girlfriend.” He started talking about how happy he was that day and he thought of 1000 scenarios of him meeting and getting to meet and approval from your parents already.

This made you laugh out loud. You couldn’t believe it, Ushijima was really a dork.

“I guess it can’t be helped, but I noticed how you were really downed today so I bought the same candy as I did that day.” He admitted as he gave you the lollipop

“Come to think of it, we were still kids back then, and I didn’t know a thing about, like… love or relationships. All I knew was that you were the prettiest girl in the world, so I confessed immediately.” He paused, eyes softer now. “But as days went by, I found myself falling harder for you. I like how you laugh, how you talk, how you look, how you treat others, how you treat me… and a million more things I could say. Everything about you amazes me.” Then he looked straight at you.

“So this time… I want to confess again. Not to the prettiest girl in the world, but to you. Just you. The real you.”

“I like you, Y/N, would you like to be my girlfriend and make it official?”

Aren’t you the luckiest girl in the world right now.

[hard-core-super-star]

cards on the table [L.Calderu]

pairing: lilia calderu x vampire!reader

summary: the morning after, you can't bring yourself to leave lilia again. instead, you let the desire you still feel for her take over.

warnings: SMUT, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT -> morning sex; mommy kink galore [because it's lilia, duh]; SO much biting [because vampires duh]; desperate switch!lilia is SO important to me; grinding; making out; unholy uses of magic; fingering; praise kink go brrr; lilia's boobs deserve their own warning fr; plot and feelings randomly thrown in because i can't write porn without it; so much banter

wordcount: 2.6k

a/n: HELLO! this part took longer than i planned but i'm really happy with how it turned out. i couldn't write vampire!reader without throwing some smut in before more plot 😌i'm having a lot of fun writing for lilia so i hope i've delivered. as always, my inbox is open and i hope you enjoy <3

part one |

* * * * * * *

When your eyes open, the first thing you see is the way the sunlight bounces off the ceiling. Unlike what most vampire myths said, you weren't afraid of the sun. At least not any more than a mortal with secrets made far too vulnerable by the light.

The second thing you notice once your eyes focus and your mind starts clearing is the comfortable weight settled on top of you. Reality's quick to crash into you after that.

For some reason, you had expected Lilia to be up and about by the time morning came. Even though she had made fun of you for wanting to run away, she was the same way. Actually, she tended to be worse. But of course, she would never admit it, preferring instead to throw the blame on you.

Seeing her like this, though, soft and vulnerable, reminds you why you hated leaving her in the first place. While you knew it had to be done, it didn't change how awful you felt about it. How lonely the years that have passed have been.

"How are you already so tense?" Her words break the silence and draw a sigh out of you. It really isn't fair how easy she can read you, even now.

"I'm just not used to waking up under a beautiful woman," you reply, the corners of your mouth tugging up into a lazy smile.

"I find that very hard to believe, sweetheart."

You suppress the urge to laugh and instead give in to the easy atmosphere. "Ouch, are you calling me a whore, Madame Calderu?"

The eyeroll you earn yourself is more worth it. "I'm calling you charming, my dear."

"Oh, my mistake."

She laughs, the sound rich and soft and capable of turning all your thoughts to mush in a second. "I've missed this."

You know what she means, but you don't allow yourself to linger on her words too much. A part of you feels undeserving. It wasn't like you didn't have good reason for leaving and yet…the guilt threatens to swallow you whole.

"Insulting me?" You ask as your fingers draw random patterns on her back. The fabric of her robe is thin enough for you to feel the warmth of her skin beneath it.

With a soft sigh, she lifts herself enough so she can stare down at you. The wrinkles in the corners of her eyes are as soft as her smile. "Laughing with you."

It's impossible to ignore the truth in her tone. "Yeah, I guess that's nice too."

"You guess?" She responds, attempting to sound offended. It doesn't work very well, though, since she's still grinning too hard. "You're a hard woman to please, my darling."

It's impossible to stop yourself from laughing at that. "You of all people should know that's not true."

Instead of instantly replying, she allows her eyes to drift down your face, lingering on your lips. You're not sure if she knows exactly what she's doing, but you do know you can't stop yourself from craving more.

And you can't even be mad at yourself for it.

You never even tried to lie about your feelings for her. Even after the visions, the prophecy, the knowledge that she'll be your undoing, you still love her. You've always loved her. How can you fight against that part of your fate?

One of your hands comes up, fingers slowly grazing against the side of her neck. The only thing left of your bite is the memory and yet she still shivers. Still leans into your touch.

"y/n," she whispers, her eyes fluttering closed for a few seconds. "You have no idea what you're doing to me."

"I find that very hard to believe," you reply, your voice just as soft as hers.

She lets out a soft huff of air, something halfway to a chuckle, before you steal whatever teasing words were on the tip of her tongue away with a kiss.

Despite how strong your longing for her has been, you still surprise yourself. You almost assumed you'd walk out of her life again without doing exactly what you'd been thinking about since you left.

Clearly, you're a fool in more than one way.

Your fingers move back to tangle in her hair and even though you try to keep yourself in check, you can't. You want more. Need her in ways that scare you and excite you at the same time.

Lilia pulls away from the kiss, her heaving breaths fanning across your lips. "I missed this too."

"I missed you," you admit, your face warming up exponentially.

It's dangerous to say it out loud, but there's no use in hiding. Not when her eyes can see everything you don't say. Everything you feel without meaning to.

"Yeah?" Her head tilts to the side, wide pupils scanning your face. "Show me."

You grin, sharp teeth poking out from under your top lip. "Gladly."

Your hands travel down her body in an instant and your fingers grasp the fabric of her robe. A laugh escapes her as you hurry to slip the garment off of her, shifting around until your lips can meet the exposed skin of her shoulders.

"Impatient as always, little one?" She questions, using her words to distract you from the way she's moving above you. It's subtle, but you can't ignore the feeling of her heat pressing against your thigh.

"Only when it comes to you."

You let your fangs graze her skin, dragging along her shoulder blade until she's shivering above you. The urge to bite her is far stronger than it should have been considering how much you'd drank the night before. Then again, your thirst for her has always been stronger than anything else. Including your common sense.

"Such a flatter," she mutters.

Her hands move to her robe, helping you get the rest of it off, while your attention is captivated by her warm skin. You sink your teeth into her shoulder, not hard enough to actually draw blood, but enough to feel the connection that thrums beneath your veins.

"And so eager too," Lilia hums.

There's no way you can deny her claim. Especially with the way your hands start exploring the newly revealed contours of her body. Your fingers trace the lines of her muscles, mapping out the freckles you can't see but know are there.

As much as it pains you, you remove your fangs from her without drawing any blood, focusing on her hunger instead of your own. "I'm not the only one, I think you're soaking my pants."

"Oh, very funny." Her voice lacks humor but her eyes dance with a mischief she was sure she'd lost years ago. "Maybe if you weren't so preoccupied with biting me, I wouldn't have to be doing all the work by myself."

"All the work- oh-"

Your question is answered by the way she shifts her hips, slowly grinding against your leg. One hand lands on her hip to steady her as she sits up slightly to get better friction. You move with her, rising into a slightly uncomfortable position just to latch your mouth onto her chest.

"There you go," she coos. "You remember what mama likes?"

You don't think you could forget if you tried.

Your lips wrap around one of her nipples, feeling it harden under your tongue. Her back arches into your touch and you can't stop yourself from letting your teeth graze her sensitive skin.

The noise she makes in response is more than enough of a reward, but then her hand tangles in your hair and pulls you closer. "Fuck, darling. You're so good for me."

Her whimpered praise sends sparks of electricity up your spine. Not even your own pleasure can distract you from your mission, though.

One hand stays on her hip, slowly guiding her movements when her hips stutter, and the other one comes up to toy with her other breast, lavishing both of her nipples with the attention you know she needs. If your mouth wasn't so busy, you would have teased her for how frantic her movements against you are.

And she was making fun of you for being eager.

"y/n," she whispers, her voice shaking almost as much as her thighs.

All you do is hum, biting down on her nipple just enough to hear her gasp. Her movements speed up and you double your efforts, flexing your thigh and pushing up into her as much as you can.

It makes you a little dizzy due to the proximity but you force your eyes to travel upward until you can take in the curve of her neck and her parted lips. The puffs of air she lets out sound more like whines than anything and you let them wash over you like a wave.

You wait until she starts muttering curses beneath her breath to move again. Your hand leaves her breast and glides down the front of her body, easily slipping under the waistband of her ruined underwear.

You detach yourself from her nipple only to trail kisses up the valley of her breasts. "Cum for me, mama, I know you need it."

Your fingers press against her swollen clit and you watch as her whole body shudders in response. It's the most beautiful sight you've seen in years.

You work her through her orgasm, feeling as she soaks your fingers and her underwear all in one go. It's sinful and delightful all at the same time.

When she slumps forward, worn and overly sensitive, you instantly wrap your arms around her waist and lie back against the couch once more. For a moment, it's like no time has passed at all. Like you managed to cheat both time and space just to be with each other.

As silly as it might be, you allow yourself the fantasy.

Your lips press against her temple as the two of you lay there, her head on your shoulder and her nose nuzzling your jaw. As hard as it is, you don't move. You don't dare break the moment.

Because you know once you do, you won't get to have her like this again.

The runes may be strong and the wards may pulse with life every time you make her heart skip a beat, but you're being hunted. And every second you spend with her only puts her in more danger.

You know that.

But then she's shifting again and her lips find yours and it's hard to think about anything else except her.

When she pulls away, you're both breathless, gripping onto each other like you're afraid you'll disappear. The helplessness that simmers beneath the surface is hidden well under desire and desperation, but you can still feel it. Thrumming to life after every kiss.

"You were so good for me, angel," she murmurs, almost like she doesn't want to risk breaking the moment by being too loud. "Let me make you feel good."

"Yes please," you reply as your arms wrap around her neck to keep her close.

To your surprise, she makes no move to make fun of you for how clingy you are and instead her arms move down your arms, caressing your skin like she's commiting every touch to memory. You don't doubt she is.

Once she reaches your shirt, she simply smirks down at you and with a flick of her wrists, your clothes dissapear. "Cute trick."

Lilia just raises an eyebrow at you, hovering over you with a borderline dangerous glint in her eyes. "Trick? Are you insulting my magic, little one?"

"Oh, I would never dare," you tease.

Of course, she doesn't believe you, and you honestly don't blame her.

"You just can't stop yourself from being a brat, can you?" Her question is completely rhetorical, especially considering her next idea.

She hovers above you, watching your face closely as one of her hands trails down your body to the heat eminating from between your legs. Her fingers part your folds, revealing your clit to her before she murmurs something ancient under her breath. You have no idea what she's doing…until you feel a sudden shock on your clit.

"Lilia-" you gasp, your thighs attempting to close.

She clicks her tongue in dissaproval as she lands a warning smack to your inner thigh. "Don't you dare close them, I'm just getting started."

Your cunt clenches around pure air at that and the pleasure sends another shock-like sensation through your cunt. You quickly realize you don't mind, though, as the pain morphs into unbelieable pleasure.

"Oh, fuck."

"You read my mind, baby."

You don't get anther second to react before two of her fingers are teasing your already sensitive clit, pressing down until your thighs shake and then moving down to gather your wetness on the tips.

She's absolutely playing with you and you can't find it in yourself to mind. Not when the way she toys with you feels so damn good.

"Please," you all but whimper. "More."

"Always so needy, it's adorable."

You whimper again and she finally takes pity on you, sliding those same two fingers into your wet cunt. It only takes a few thrusts and another well placed shock for you to near the edge.

"Mama- please-"

"Already?" Despite her teasing tone, she can't hide her excitment. "You wanna cum for me, sweet girl?"

You desperately nod, your hips bucking up into her without meaning to as you chase your incoming orgasm. "Yes, need it, please."

"I've missed hearing you beg like that. Go ahead, baby, don't hold back."

She doesn't have to tell you twice.

Your body instantly reacts to her, clenching uncontrollably around her fingers while her thumb plays with your clit. You cry out as your orgasm crashes into you and you're left whining and shaking underneath her.

She leans down to pepper kisses across your face, her tongue darting out to lap up the few tears that escape the corners of your eyes. "Always so sweet for me."

All you can manage are a few incoherent mumbles and she chuckles as she removes her fingers from between your legs. Another incantation is mumbled and the ache on your clit subsides.

"Better?" She asks, shifting around once more so she's on her side, arms bringing you closer to her.

You nod and mirror her, tucking your head beneath her chin and wrapping yourself around her warmth. "Did you melt my brain so I wouldn't leave?"

"Not on purpose," she replies with a laugh. "Does that mean you'll stay?"

You allow the question to hang in the air for a few seconds. There's nothing you want more than to stay. Not only are you technically still injured, you'll have to drink from her again soon or risk growing weak once more.

You know the risks, the ones that go beyond simply being a vampire in love with a witch. Between the Guild, your family, and the prophecy that looms over both of your heads…staying with her will do nothing besides bring you more pain.

And yet, the answer forms before you can stop it.

"Yes. But only because I'm still hungry."

Lilia knows you're lying, but she doesn't call you out on it. Instead, she simply holds you closer, her fingers tracing the area where you'd been stabbed by the Guild's hunter. "Just give me a few minutes, then we can get up."

You know she's lying too, but all you do is smile and burrow into her chest.

* * * * * * *

taglist: @p00ki3-m0nst3r

[cantstoptheimagines]

All Tied Up (Monkey D. Luffy, Roronoa Zoro, Usopp | One Piece)

Series Masterlist

Summary — Luffy’s dream of tying you to the main mast comes to fruition. Zoro and Usopp join the fun.

Warnings and Other Tags ➳ Another pirate smut for the collection (rough foursome; free use (human fleshlight vibes at certain points); exhibitionism (fucking on deck but no one’s around to see); oral (female receiving); penetration (vaginal); overstimulation; bondage; hair-pulling; fingering and pussy slapping; creampies and facials; spanking; degradation and name-calling; biting and licking).

Notes ➳ Word Count is 2,283. ➳ Reader uses feminine pronouns (she/her).

FAQ | Masterlist | Fandoms | Requests | Coming Soon | Schedule 

Uncontrollable pants filled your ear at the sound of skin on skin echoed in the air. Zoro’s heavy balls slapped your clit with every thrust of his hips, sinking his aching cock deep into your entrance over and over. His efforts were made simply by your position.

It was one Luffy had pleaded to see you in for weeks. In the middle of his ship’s deck, you’re bent over a wine barrel, hips digging into the wood while your legs and feet dangle weakly. Incapable of touching the wooden deck, they swung back and forth with every harsh thrust against your backside. Yours arms have been stretched out in front of you, all so your wrists could be tied to the main mast of the Sunny. The knot securing them there was formed with one of Luffy’s infamous pirate flags. 

The sight of you, according to your captain, was nothing short of delectable. And his description must have been somewhat accurate, given the eagerness in joining the fun both Zoro and Usopp had expressed when they had first wandered onto the deck that morning. And Luffy, being Luffy, was always happy to share. 

On your right, he grinned down at you while stroking his long, twitching cock, “Perfect day for this, isn’t it? Nice and clear, easy to focus our attention on using you.”

Your response is incoherent, muffled by the fabric of your underwear. Usopp, moaning intensely on your left, slapped his own leaking tip against your cheek, and spoke up, “Can’t say anything, huh? Keep quiet next time and maybe I won’t need to shove something in that pathetic mouth of yours.”

Tears welled up in your eyes. Had that really been why Usopp had forced your underwear into your mouth? Did he not like your moans? Were you being too loud this time—?

You let out another muffled gasp after Zoro gave a particularly rough thrust into your core. His large hands dug into the flesh of your ass as he huffed, “Give her a break, Usopp! It’s hard work, taking cum all day. We’ve gotta let her squeal at least a couple times. She’s earned it after letting us bend her over like this.”

One of his hands slapped your backside, drawing out one of those squeals he had just mentioned. Usopp didn’t have much time to think of a response before a wave of pleasure raked over his spine. His orgasm burst from the tip of his cock. Creamy, white ropes of his release splattered onto your face. His length twitched with every spurt. 

Once his release had subsided, Usopp smiled with a deep moan, “Damn, that was good. Bet you like all that cum on your pretty face, huh?”

“My turn! Ah! My—! My turn now!” demanded Luffy.

His hand fiercely stroked his own length, attempting to reach a quicker finish. One squeeze of his balls sent him over the edge. Another wave of cum sprayed onto your sweaty skin. Luffy’s fingers wove themselves into your hair as his other hand aimed his cock’s mushroom head at your face. His release mixed with Usopp’s, leaving white beads dribbling down your forehead and along your nose.

Behind you, Zoro let out an amused laugh. He yanked your hips, roughly dragging your tight entrance on and off his thick length. With his strength, it didn’t require much effort. His teeth filled out a feral grin, “Bet they’re gonna wish they came in your pussy more when they had you to themselves this morning. It’s mine now though, I’m taking it over. Look at ‘em, trying to get it back up.”

He was right. Both Luffy and Usopp were already stroking themselves back to life, desperate for more.

“Fuck!” grunted Zoro, his thrusts becoming more frantic. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum! Get ready, I’ve been saving this for you all day. Gonna fill up that tight womb with my cum, got it?”

He rocked you against the wine barrel, occasionally readjusting your position with a grumble whenever you got knocked out of place. The wood made your hips and pelvis ache with each of Zoro’s unyielding tugs on your body. Even now and then, you’d get a peek at your clenched toes whenever they were forced to swing forward enough. 

“Filthy little cunt, it’s always so damn tight,” he groaned, your muffled cries causing warmth to pool in his tightening abdomen. “Take it! I’m dumping everything inside, take it all! Suck in my load with your pussy, c’mon, taking my fucking cum! Oh, fuck, you little slut! Hah!”

He spread your cheeks for a better view, gritting his teeth at the sight of his cock sinking into you one last time. His balls pulsed, flush against your clit. His cum flooded your walls and painted your insides white. 

“Shit, that’s it. Take it all in there,” he muttered, slowly easing his length out of your entrance. He gripped himself with one hand and then struck the quivering head of his cock against your unused asshole. Still exposed by his other hand groping your plump flesh, your tightest entrance clenched around Zoro’s thumb when it sank inside. “Gonna ruin this one later. Need to get some energy back first.” 

He slapped your sore cheeks a few times before smearing his cum through your sensitive folds as it oozed out of your wet hole. Finally, with another few taps of his leaking cockhead, he stuffed himself back into his pants and sauntered off. 

Luffy wasted no time in taking Zoro’s place. His hips collided with your bare skin as he bottomed out inside you. His hands pressed against your lower back, forcing your spine into a deep arch as he began thrusting at a fast pace. You couldn’t help but whine through your makeshift gag.

“Zoro got you all stretched out! He’s too big for you!” he huffed angrily. “He’ll ruin you for the rest of us if he keeps stealing so many turns with your pussy. Why d’you let him do that, huh?”

“Mmph! Mmph! Mm—Mmph!” was all he got in response. Over and over, his cock sank into you, your wetness squelching out around him with each movement.

Usopp slowly stroked himself to the sight of his friend making you go cross-eyed, “That’s it, pretty thing. Enough about Zoro. You’re gonna cum on Luffy’s cock now, aren’t you?”

His words seemed to only bring Luffy closer to a release upon hearing them. You whimpered when Luffy pressed his chest against your back, restricting your movements even further. One of his hands tightly gripped onto your shoulder. Meanwhile, the other reached around your head, allowing Luffy’s large, sweaty palm to press against your forehead. He forcefully pushed your head back as he panted into your ear.

“Pretty pussy,” he muttered, only seeking the pleasure your body offered him. “My crew’s pretty, perfect pussy, all tied up. Ugh! So good, this pussy’s so good, wanna eat it.”

Still stroking himself, Usopp stepped closer, reached beneath your swaying body, and found your swollen clit, “Let me help ya out.”

“Yes, yes!” cried Luffy.

Although the feeling of Usopp attacking your clit with his fingers was almost too much for you, neither of them seemed to care. Tears welled up in your eyes while your cunt clenched around Luffy’s cock. His speed was so fast, it could be considered inhumane. He offered your pussy no relief.

Instead, he cried and huffed and whimpered into your ear upon feeling the increasing tightness of your sopping entrance. It wasn’t until Usopp struck at your aching clit, pulling your own squirting release from your cunt, that Luffy’s resolve finally broke.

He sank his length deep into your walls while his teeth suddenly dug into your temple. Rope after rope of hot cum shot into your wet cunt. All the while, Luffy’s bite shifted to your cheek and then to the side of your neck as his eyes rolled back. To anyone else, he probably looked akin to a wild animal, desperate to mark and breed its mate.

Usopp gasped, tearing his hand away from his cock before his own release could wash over him. However, he continued his assault on your overstimulated clit, grinning as you twitched and whined uncontrollably.

“What’s that?” he mocked. He then pulled your underwear out of your mouth, and chuckled, “Speak up, cutie. C’mon.”

“Please, please, ugh! Please, wait!” you cried out. A gasp fell from your lips when Luffy’s teeth released your neck, only for his tongue to repeatedly run over your sweaty skin. “Luffy, need you—hah—to slow down! Too much!”

“Almost done,” muttered Luffy, though he listened to your pleas regarding his pace, and pulled his cock out of your entrance. However, it was quickly replaced with his tongue when he knelt behind you, and said, “Still wanna eat.”

Usopp groped your ass, spreading your cheeks for Luffy, who gripped your shaking thighs. His long tongue ran over your folds once, then twice, before it sank into you.

Usopp teased your asshole, much like Zoro had done earlier when he was still on deck, while Luffy took a deep whiff of your arousal. Your captain’s mouth explored your wetness carelessly, panting and slurping. His release from just moments ago, now mixed with your own, dripped into his awaiting mouth. He let out a series of satisfied groans, sinking his nails deep into the soft flesh of your thighs.

“Pussy tastes—yes—so good! Need it! Don’t squirm too much! Put it back in my mouth, c’mon, your clit! There you go! Mmph! Yes, yes!”

“Cum again,” ordered Usopp. “Cum on his tongue so I can put my dick in you already, c’mon!”

Your vision blurs as another orgasm washes over your body. You hardly realize it when Luffy gets in one last lick before he walks away with a satisfied grin, his softening cock swinging between his legs with every step. He toyed with his balls while making his way to the kitchen.

“My chance with you now, pretty thing,” muttered Usopp, disappearing from your sight to take his place behind you. “Talk to me. You still feel good?”

Every part of you lies still, your limbs weak. You’re panting uncontrollably, trying to catch your breath from your time with Luffy. You can only hum in response to his question. Quietly, Usopp laughed from behind you, and you can’t help but shudder when a warm hand runs over your spine.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he said, only to groan when he took a glance at your soaked folds. “Those two always fuck you up, huh? I think you can take another round though.” 

Usopp abruptly shoved into you, stretching you even further. You can’t stop a loud, surprised cry from escaping your lips. One of his hands wrapped itself in your hair while the other reached around to grasp your throat. He quickly yanks your head as far back as he can manage. Your back is arched at an almost impossible angle, not that he seemed to care.

Hunching over you, Usopp cursed and immediately set a quick, unforgiving pace with his thrusts. He resists the urge to choke you every time your throat pulses beneath his palm with a new plea for him to slow down. Instead, he leans over you enough to lick the sweat that beads on your temple. 

“Ours, ours,” he groaned. “Pussy’s ours. Wanna fill you up and leave you tied up for everyone to see. Want every ship passing by to know whose cum is dripping outta your guts.”

“Usopp, ugh!” you whined, gasping each time his hips smacked your aching backside. “Please! Can’t do it again!”

“Can’t do what, huh? Cum?” he chuckled with a deep huff. “You don’t need to worry about it—fuck, baby! I’m taking care of that for ya. Yeah, I’ll make you cum again, just as soon as I’m through with this pussy of yours, m’kay?”

Your eyes squeezed shut and you were unable to do anything but pant and whine as Usopp had his way with you. He hissed into your ear, occasionally licking your skin, as he dug his nose into your temple.

With his eyes rolled back and his teeth clenched, Usopp's hips become a blur. His thrusts are so quick, so rough, that you’re beginning to experience whiplash.

“Gonna do it, fuck!” he panted. “I’m gonna cum in this cute, little pussy! You do it with me, okay? You hear me? I’m going to make you cum!”

One hand forces your head down against the barrel while the other dives between your legs to torture your aching clit. Usopp is practically drooling with pleasure as your release finally overtakes his pulsing cock.

He slaps your clit a few times as you orgasm with a loud cry. He pounds into you harder and harder until he’s flooding your insides with his own release. With thick, white cum frothing out onto his balls, he grunts and pants into your ear, still occasionally licking your sweaty flesh.

He doesn’t pull out until his cock is soft and unable to continue with another round. Not for lack of trying, however. Usopp does his best to stroke himself back to life, slapping his throbbing tip against your twitching asshole upon spreading you open with a large palm, but it’s all to no avail.

Realizing he’s unfortunately spent, he finally gives up on stroking his overstimulated, twitching cock. He runs his fingers through your folds instead, admiring the excessive amount of cum that oozes and drips out of your used body.

“Get some rest,” he said, slapping your backside one last time. “I think Sanji’s got something special planned for you later.”

[mytheoristavenue]

I think laios has a breeding kink but at the same time doesn’t want to be a father

if that makes sense

DM - Lios Touden Having a Breeding Kink

Summary: Headcanons of having a baby w/ Laios

Warnings: breeding, NSFW undercut, fluff, angst, accidental/unwanted pregnancy

With Liaos having so many 'dog-like' traits, I also highly agree that he probably has a pretty big breeding kink. I like to imagine him settling down after the canon events and possibly even finding a wife.

As a husband, he is always staunchly against having children, though the positions he puts you in, the things he says in the heat of the moment, prove he has a primal need to impregnate you.

I can see him liking it from the back, pushing your face against whatever surface, gripping your tummy, hips, thighs, anything he can really get his hands on. He really doesn't have a specific rhythm; he just moves according to what feels good and what makes you sound the prettiest.

"Sound so pretty, baby," He murmurs mindlessly, kissing and nipping at your back. "Like it? Like your big husband breeding your pretty cunt?" While biting down on your shoulder hard enough to leave an indentation.

When you whimper affirmatively, he loses what little control he had, the need to pull out slipping his mind entirely. Something about filling you up, keeping himself warm inside your creamy cunt rewires his way of thinking and we quickly discovers he needs it to be like that every time.

His careful lovemaking, always having enough control to finish on your back or tummy, turns into desperate, needy creampies as often as possible, though its never less loving.

It's no surprise to anyone but him when you wind up pregnant, already a bit awkward when you both find out. Due to your calculations, it's likely you conceived early on into this new ritual, if not the very first time.

At first, he distances himself from you drastically. It's not because he loves you any less. He just never wanted kids, and he's upset with himself for letting his primal desires dictate what the rest of your lives would be like.

After a long, difficult discussion, he eventually comes to terms with the fact that you are having his baby and that nothing will change that. He still doesn't share your enthusiasm, though, which puts strain on your relationship.

As your tummy grows, he finds himself begrudgingly attracted to you, more than ever before. Those evolutionary hormones inside you both are working their charm, and he often finds himself in your lap, kissing on your belly.

I see him being really nervous to have penetrative sex your entire pregnancy, despite your reassurance. But he discovers how much he enjoys sinking into you slowly, rolling his gently, sometimes for hours. He's surprised to find he can still usually finish from this and it feels just as nice.

In spite of himself, he finds that helping you plan for the baby is a bit fun. Building a crib himself (Chilchuck def didn't help him at all, don't even ask), helping you decorate the nursery with stuffed animals. He's particularly fond of the collection of plush dogs he allgined on the shelf.

Speaking of Chilchuck, he finds himself going to him more often as your due date draws closer. The half foot is able to put to rest some of his fears. Through these conversations, Laios begins to wonder if he truly doesn't want kids, or if he is just afraid he'll be a poor father.

When you're reaching the end of your pregnancy, his protective instincts are in full swing. He won't even let you walk upstairs without him to guide you. You thought it was because he worried about your safety, but he mutters something one day that makes you pause.

"Darling, what are you doing?" He fusses, taking your hand, his other resting on the small of your back. "What if you fall?" Before you can put his worries to rest, he adds: "You've got to be more careful on these starves, love, think about the baby." You simply smile and agree to be more cautious.

When he discovers you're going into labor, he's bouncing between panic about your condition and about being a dad. Nothing anyone can say will soothe him now. Not until Marcille steps out of your room, blood smeared on her smock and a sheepish smile on her lips. "It's a girl,"

A girl? No, that can't be right. Laios had prepared himself to raise a boy, finally coming to terms with how he'd make an honest man out of his son. But now he had a daughter? He was out of his depth.

He steps inside and stops, stunned, seeing his exhausted wife with the kind smile he fell in love with so long ago. You're topless with a tiny blushed cheek pressed to your chest.

He hurries to your side, finally catching a good look at his daughter. "S-She looks just like..." He pauses, glancing up at his sister, who displays the warmest smile. Something in him changes in that moment. Whether is something altered reverting back to it's natural state, or something cold melted into something warm, he can't tell. All he knows is what he is. He's a husband and father, and no other title has felt more... right.

Chilchuck is secretly ecstatic to have a fellow girl dad he can rant and rave with, and Laios is relieved to have someone who understands his new reality.

Nowadays, his favorite pastime is sitting with his daughter, reading her folktales until she drifts off in his arms. That's his pal, his little princess, a tiny monster of his very own. Only there was no book he could find that would give him wisdom on how to handle her.

In short, girl dad!Laios supremacy.

[monarchisms]

she doka on my kingdom til i pon 🏰

[humanjarvis]

wasting your honor

synopsis: at akso hospital’s charity gala, you realize how smart zayne is. how much smarter he is than you.

tags: fluff to angst to fluff/comfort, reader is insecure about their intelligence, reader thinks zayne deserves better, references to socioeconomic differences, potentially inaccurate references to medical terminology and protocore stuff, misunderstanding, reader ghosts zayne for a week, he comes to find her, reader tears up, love confessions, happy ending pairing: zayne x fem!reader (referred to as “she” one time), reader doesn't have to be mc word count: 2.4k

a/n: i’m rly rly proud of this it may be my favorite thing i’ve written so far please read it

“Are you sure I should be going to this?” you ask, the hesitation clear in your voice. 

“Why shouldn’t you? Plenty of other attendees will be bringing their partners as plus-ones,” Zayne says matter-of-factly. “Of course, if you’re feeling unwell, it’s best to stay behind and rest. I'm sure I'll be able to manage on my own.”

“No, no, I feel fine,” you reply, chewing your bottom lip nervously. “It’s just…I've never been surrounded by so many highly educated people. I’m afraid I'll slip up, or say something wrong, or embarrass you, or…”

Before you can ramble on, he walks up to you and squishes your cheeks between his large scarred hands. “Darling,” he begins, a soft smile on his face, “none of that matters. Just be yourself, and I’m sure you’ll be the most refined person there by a mile.” 

Akso Hospital’s annual charity gala was the topic of his impromptu pep talk. Each year, the event made front-page news from drawing in hundreds of world-renowned physicians to support a pressing medical cause. Tonight’s gala would be hosted by a team of legendary neurologists, and the venue—a prestigious museum of anthropology—was equally celebrated.

Zayne, who usually struggled at such events, had invited you as his plus-one with youthful hope in his hazel eyes, and there was no way you could have rejected his offer. At first, you’d been thrilled at the prospect of making an official outing together—you rarely got the chance due to his busy schedule—but as the days passed by, the anxiety of being average in a room of geniuses had caught up to you.

So as you pace back and forth before the full-length mirror, fidgeting with your dress at every turn, you can only hope that he’s right.

As Zayne puts the car in park, your stomach lurches with dread.

In the few seconds you have to panic to yourself while he walks around to open your door, the way your mind formulates last-minute escape plans would put a supercomputer to shame. Maybe you could fake sick—no, you’d told him you felt fine—or maybe with enough pressure you could lightly sprain your ankle in your hee—

The door swings open. 

Fuck.

He takes your hand and guides you out of the car, and as you walk toward the museum entrance, you’re too focused on trying not to trip over your flowing gown to take in the scenery. The lights twinkling in the foggy night, the verdant plants lining the entryway in carefully arranged rows, the opulent fountain flowing over small hills of bronze coins. It’s a lovely setup, really. If only your brain would allow you to enjoy it. 

After passing through the lavish front hall, decorated with colorful displays of ancient artifacts, you’re greeted by a grand ballroom layout. Round banquet tables with crystal centerpieces are scattered throughout the space, and the upscale alcohol behind the bar could probably bankrupt you with one sip. 

All around you, people clad in gold watches and diamond necklaces mingle with thinly veiled scrutiny, and you silently bless Zayne for personally sponsoring your event attire. 

As you head further into the room, a striking brunette woman in her 40s saunters up to you. “Zayne!” she gushes, “It’s so nice to see you could make it! With how antisocial you are, I was afraid you’d find a reason not to come. Oh, and who’s this?” she asks, eyes passing over you dismissively. “I’ve never seen you working with Zayne before—perhaps you’re in nephrology or gastroenterology?” 

You have no idea what either of those words mean.

Luckily, like always, Zayne saves the day. “Actually, this is my partner. She’s accompanying me tonight.”

“Partner,” the woman repeats, her voice raising an octave in disbelief. “…What a surprise! I didn’t realize the aloof Dr. Zayne was seeing someone. How lucky you are to have him,” she finishes with a stiff smile. “Well, I’ll leave you two to it, then. Enjoy your evening!” she calls as she flags down a waiter and scoops up two glasses of wine. 

“That was our chief of staff,” Zayne says flatly. “Surely you can understand how she scored the position with such a charming personality.” 

You chat with—or Zayne chats with, while you stand off awkwardly to the side—a few more guests before the main portion of the event begins.

Dr. Greyson had roped him into a conversation about a thrilling surgery from the day before, and an intern who’d somehow managed to get on the invite list had bombarded him with questions while you watched with a blank smile.

When the lights gradually dim and you’re directed to your seats, you let out a sigh of relief. Finally, a moment to breathe, you think. 

The hours pass. Speech after speech travels in and out of your ear, the jargon too advanced for you to process before the next utterly alien word comes along. 

Flipping open your program in restlessness, you realize you’ve reached the final segment of the gala just as the next speaker takes the stage. 

“Again, thank you all so much for your attendance tonight,” he starts. “I’m proud to announce that we’ve raised a record-breaking amount for medical research involving Protocores—what a historic feat. Each of you should be immensely proud of your contributions.”

Your claps seem too loud in the polite applause. Shifting your gaze to the guests around you, you match their enthusiasm—or lack thereof—with an inward grimace. 

“Now, before the night ends, we do have one more achievement to celebrate. Dr. Zayne Li, who I believe is here with us tonight, has recently passed an extraordinary milestone—in his time with Akso, our chief cardiac surgeon has successfully completed over 800 surgeries. To show our gratitude, we’d like to present him with the Medical Impact Award. Dr. Li, if you’re in the audience, won’t you come up and celebrate this accomplishment?” 

This time, you don’t hold back your applause. As Zayne rises from his seat, an endearing look of bewilderment on his face, your heart swells with admiration. Lucky, was what that woman had called you earlier. You suppose she’d been right.

As Zayne climbs up the steps, the presenter hands him a polished wooden plaque. Saying a brief thanks, he struts to the mic, a practiced look of confidence on his face now that the surprise has worn off.

“Thank you for this honor,” he begins steadily. “It’s with immense privilege that I can stand here before you today, but I’d like to take this time to commend our fundraising efforts tonight. The millions of dollars we’ve raised will be dedicated to investigating the nature of pathological conditions that originate in Protocore exposure. This will allow hundreds of medical personnel in and outside of Linkon to treat previously unsolvable cases. In regards to my own work, I’m particularly grateful—with the generosity you’ve all shown tonight, you’ve made me incredibly optimistic for the future of treating Cardiac Protocore Syndrome. I’ll keep that in mind every day—so the next 800 surgeries can go smoothly and with quick recoveries.”

As his speech ends, your look of admiration melts into a resigned, defeated smile. 

For the first time that night, the room breaks out into thunderous applause. And for the hundredth time that night, you feel like you don’t deserve to stand by his side.

You’d hope that he’d chalked up your silence on the ride home to sleepiness. When he’d walked you to your apartment door and leaned in to kiss you goodnight, you’d merely stood there in indecision, afraid to taint his brilliance with your mediocrity. And then, with a strained smile, you’d shut the door in his face.

That was the last time you’d seen him for the rest of the week. And for half of the next. 

For six days, you’d been completely ghosting him, too wrapped up in your insecurities to respond to his numerous messages. 

Thank you for accompanying me last night. I had a wonderful time, he’d texted on the first day. 

One of the nurses came up to me and gushed over your dress. She asked where you bought it from, but I told her we got it custom-ordered, he’d said on the second. 

The fourth day. Would you like to join me for a meal later? We’ve had to reschedule a surgery. I’ll be getting home earlier than usual tonight.

Last night. Please respond to me when you get a chance.

And no matter how badly you wanted to, each time your fingers hovered over the keyboard, they froze in paralyzing shame. 

You’d passed the time like you had before you met him—hiding from the sun, rewatching comfort movies, and wallowing in bed with gloomy ballads in the background.

But on the seventh day, your doorbell rings.

Thinking it’s the package of pastries you’d ordered from the bakery near Zayne’s house—you always got a box when you were sad—you hastily swing open the door.

And then fight the urge to shut it right back. 

Because standing on your doorstep is a tired-looking Zayne, frowning in hurt and confusion. 

“Hello. Is your phone broken?” he asks worriedly, checking your body for signs of illness. 

“Um…no,” you mutter, suddenly fixated on your navy blue slippers. “Why don’t you come in? If you want to.”

With an infinitesimal squint, he crosses the threshold of your apartment. All things considered, it’s a good thing he’s here, given the way your heart is beating out of your chest.

“You haven’t been responding to my calls or messages since the gala,” he begins carefully. “I was afraid something was wrong. There were so many people present—maybe you’d caught a virus. But,” he continues, taking in your disheveled yet healthy appearance, “it seems I was incorrect.”

The guilt that’s been eating at you for days suddenly devours your insides whole, and your emotional dam bursts open. 

“I-I’m glad you got to go, and that you got your award—your speech was great, by the way,” you sniffle. “But while we were there, the whole time I was thinking how much more successful you are than me. How much more intelligent. I mean, that lady asked me if I was an entomologist, or whatever, and I didn’t even know what she meant! At the end of it I just…thought you’d be better off without me. That you deserve better. Smarter. That’s why I’ve been quiet the last few days,” you finish, eyes downcast.

His puzzled frown deepens at your revelation.

“Why would I expect you to possess medical knowledge when that’s not your field of study?”

Oh.

Oh.

You really were stupid, weren’t you.

“You…don’t think I’m too…average for you?”

“No, have I ever indicated that I do? If so, I apologize for making you feel that way. It’s the complete opposite of how I view you,” he reveals, stepping closer. “I’m also terribly sorry I didn’t notice you were so uncomfortab—”

“No,” you interrupt him shakily. “I tried to hide it. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.” 

Zayne gives you a sympathetic grin before starting over. “Regardless, I regret not being able to take care of you like I should have. And as much as I wish you hadn’t, I understand why you took the time to process your feelings. But to make one thing clear,” he asserts, voice deepening in emphasis. “I’m the one who’s lucky to have you.”

As you look up at him through glassy eyes, your breath hitches. “What?” you croak, voice hoarse from built-up tears.

“Darling,” he begins gently. “Did you ever consider whether I like socializing with those types of people?”

Mouth parting in a small ‘o,’ you shake your head meekly. 

He smiles wryly. “After every previous one of those events, I’ve gone home with an ear-splitting headache. Last week was the first time I’ve ever enjoyed going,” he chuckles. “Not because of that award—which was flattering but unnecessary considering I was only doing my job,” he quips, “but because you were there beside me.” 

“No amount of medical knowledge can compare to the peace you make me feel. The comfort. I asked you to be my plus-one for one reason only: the person I love makes me happy.”

At the confession, your battered heart soars and your cheeks burn so hot you think they’ll melt off. Timidly, you inch closer to him, instinctually unsure if he’ll welcome you back into his arms. 

He answers your unvoiced question almost immediately, pulling you to him by the waist before he speaks again. “Although,” he pauses, giving you a concerned once-over, “if you were truly in so much distress over attending, you could have just refused. At the expense of my own happiness, I would’ve preferred you had.”

“But you seemed so excited to go,” you groan, laying your head against his chest. You shiver at the contact—you must’ve missed him more than you realized. “I guess I was wrong.” 

“Not entirely. I was excited to go with you.”

At his response, you bury yourself impossibly further into him, and he strokes your back tenderly. “Well, that was one reason I agreed—you looked so cute when you asked, I just couldn’t say no,” you grumble, lightly pinching his waist. “But the other part was…with all the hours you spend at the hospital—800 surgeries and all—we never really get to go to big events as a couple. I just wanted to take the opportunity, I guess. I thought it would feel nice.”

Zayne sighs deeply and presses a light kiss to your hair. “And it felt bad instead,” he surmises. “How can I make it up to you? I’ll ask Greyson to trade shifts with me if I need to, just say the word.”

“Well,” you start, peering up at him shyly. “There is an office party next week that I’ve been dreading going to. All alone,” you pout. “If he comes with me, the illustrious Dr. Zayne will get to see how we regular people socialize.” 

Chuckling softly, he kisses your forehead. “He wouldn’t dare miss out on that. He’ll be there,” he promises, squeezing your hip in confirmation. “Now, if I’m not mistaken, I believe the bakery van just dropped something off at your door. Shall we open it?”

In an instant, you peel yourself off of him and sprint for the door before freezing in your tracks. You were forgetting something. 

“Wait!” you exclaim, turning back around to face him. With a nervous gulp, you say the words you think you’ve known for a long time.

“I asked you to come with me, Zayne,” you breathe, “because the person I love makes me happy, too.”

[reiderwriter]

☎️ Don't Call Me ☎️

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: After catching your boyfriend cheating, you find accidental comfort in your coworker. With your phone ringing nonstop, you're willing to do whatever it takes to start fresh.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, bug mentions (cockroaches), cheating, exhibitionism, dom/sub dynamics, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), squirting, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, slight spanking, mentions of masturbation. Dom! Spencer.

A/N: Haha... hi guys... been a while 😚 Please enjoy the fic I dreamed up over a month ago now, and was finally able to conjure up!

Masterlist

If you were to be asked how you assumed a five-year-long relationship would end, you'd likely say something like irreparable differences. Maybe a difference in lifestyle, growing out of love, or even different plans for the future. Unfortunately, the irreparable difference your boyfriend had chosen at 10 pm on a Thursday evening was being balls deep in an irreparably different woman. 

You supposed you should've seen the signs the relationship was drawing to a close and likely you did, but with your job itself being a life or death situation almost daily, you really didn't have much time to worry about the fact that your boyfriend was sowing his oats in other fields. Based on the look of the woman spread across your bed, the oats weren't that great for her either. 

Your reaction had been somewhat delayed, but curiously not as much as hers. She'd been wonderfully blasé about the man writhing on top of her before you started screaming and throwing things, and even now you were armed with a vase of flowers (dead - you'd bought them yourself before the case you'd been on for the last two weeks) she still looked slightly bored. But at least her legs were together now, and not gynaecologist level apart. 

Your boyfriend - ex-boyfriend? - managed to regain an ounce of dignity with a scrap of clothing, and did his best to shepard you out of the crime scene as you regained the ability to hold coherent thoughts that weren't about strangling him with his own tie. 

“Listen to me, please just for five minutes-” 

“Listen? I was just listening! To you moaning into that woman's shoulders with your eyes rolled back in your head!” 

It was as if in the last few minutes all the love you'd had for this man, all five years of relationship and comfort, and nights spent together had melted away in an instant. The rage dissipated, and you were surprisingly calm again, though that worried you, too. Surely you should be crying, or at the very least upset. You should be feeling some kind of emotion that wasn't a vague disgust at the man in front of you in full pooh bear mode, trying to tug down the hem of his shirt to cover the crown jewels. 

“It didn't mean anything. She doesn't mean anything. She's just - You're gone so long on cases, and I just-” 

“So you're saying it's my fault you're cheating on me?” 

“Yes! No, wait, no, no, no, no-” 

“No, heard loud and clear, I'll try not to save lives in the future, I'm sure the BAU will understand I should be on my back 24 hours a day instead, taking all four inches you have to donate to my worthy cause.” 

“Y/N, don't be like that,” he said, exasperated. Whatever he had to be exasperated about, you had no idea. Maybe blue balls. 

“Like what?”

“Like a bitch!” 

The room went still with silence as you let him sit with the words he'd just spoken, willing him to snap back quickly so you could keep even just a shred of respect for him. 

No such apology came. 

“I'm leaving now. I expect your things packed and out of here by 12 pm tomorrow, including your thing in the bedroom. Don't bother cleaning the sheets. Just burn them. Lock the door and post the keys through the letterbox when you're done.” 

“Y/N, I told you it's not like that, I still love you, come on-” 

“Well I don't love you. And please go put some fucking pants on.” 

You stepped back over the threshold of your apartment - the lovely, nice apartment you'd been living in for the last eight years, your nice safe space - and you shuddered. 

The question wasn't exactly what next, but more like where next. What next was sending a group text in your ex-boyfriends family chat telling them what you'd walked in on, and then leaving the chat before you could get any response. The where would be a harder sell. 

From this part of the city, it'd take 2 hours to get to Penelope’s apartment, especially at this time of night without a car. Emily's apartment was similarly far. Going through a list of your coworkers again, you mentally crossed off Tara, who'd been injured on your last case and was resting at her girlfriend's apartment, Luke, who despite the promised comfort of a cute dog, you were absolutely sure didn't have a spare bed, and all members of the team with spouses and/or children. Which left just Spencer and Rossi. 

Needless to say, you found your way to Spencer's apartment in only 20 minutes, though you were sure you had disassociated the entire thing. 

Knocking on the door, you felt a little bit awkward, but not awkward enough to leave and find a hotel at nearly 11 pm. Your last case hadn't been a pleasant one, hotel-wise, and you weren't exactly eager for another check-in.

Spencer opened the door quickly, his eyebrows knitted in confusion as he found you there  but only for a brief flash before his face brightened up. 

“Y/N? Do we have a case again? I thought Hotch said-” 

“Can I stay here tonight?” you blurted, needing to get the words out as quickly as possible before you convinced yourself to walk away. 

Spencer took a moment to take in your words, and you took the opportunity to look at him then. He was fully clothed at least, and you were glad to find that his pajamas looked comfortable and clean. A simple plaid cotton pant with a soft-looking white long sleeved shirt pushed up his arms slightly. He'd taken out his contacts and put on his glasses, and you wondered if you'd caught him mid-book. 

“Please?” you added in a hopeful voice as he still looked at you slightly confused. 

“Oh, of course,” he said, stepping aside and gesturing inside. “Is there something wrong with your apartment?” he asked, taking your go-bag from you without question and guiding you into the main living space of his apartment. 

“Thank you, yeah. Something like that. Shoes off or on?” 

“I have some slippers. You can take them off. What happened?” he said, placing the slippers in front of you and turning back to bolt the door. 

“Invasive species?” You said, trying to sound as nonplussed as possible  despite now feeling incredibly plussed.

“Oh, bugs? Yeah, I've had a cockroach or two in the apartment before. Did you know that the average female cockroach can produce up to 10,000 offspring in a single year?” 

You sat on his couch quietly, trying not to imagine 10,000 cockroaches and failing nearly spectacularly. Unfortunately, the only image that could surpass tiny cockroach babies was of your boyfriend pounding away at another woman. Which was just a brilliant move for your psyche. 

“Spencer, I know I've really intruded here tonight, but do…. Do you wanna drink with me?” You asked, hoping to drown at least a memory or two of the last 24 hours. Hopefully, the cheating one, but you'd take cockroach extermination as well.

A slightly worried look settled on Spencer's face, but he said nothing and nodded, walking to his kitchen, grabbing two beers and meeting you back on his loveseat. 

“Oh you really have beer here!” You exclaimed, thanking him for the beverage before cracking it open and taking a sip. 

“Morgan came over with some to celebrate 6 months out of prison. These are leftovers.” 

“Right… right…” 

The first few sips were so painfully awkward that you thought about returning back to your apartment and just sleeping on your own couch. 

Vaguely, you felt Spencer watching you, taking a sip of his drink for every sip you took of yours. 

“So…” you said, and he raised an inquisitive eyebrow again, already questioning whatever was about to come out of your mouth. 

“So?”  he asked. You weren't sure if it was the beer, the look on his face, or the crazy implosion of the last 5 years that had you giggling all of a sudden. You were just glad that when you cracked up, he cracked a smile as well, and a little bit of the tension went away. 

“Why are you really here, YN?” 

You took a deep breath and looked straight forward at the bookshelves Spencer had lovingly filled. Maybe this had taken him half a decade as well, so he'd understand how your life felt a little bit like a wobbly bookshelf at that second. 

“The invasive species I mentioned? It was the woman screwing my boyfriend in my bed. Ex. Ex-boyfriend.” 

You heard the intake of breath from Spencer before he put his can down and started thinking of something to say in reply to that. 

“Oh.” 

“Yeah.” 

“Oh… Y/N, I-” 

A shrill ringing cut him off, and you were almost glad to not be on the receiving end of whatever pitiful words he was about to push on you, until you checked the caller ID and saw your ex's name. 

“Don't pick that up,” Spencer said as you hesitated towards the phone. With a hand over yours, he flipped the phone over, locking eyes with you as he let it ring out. 

“He's just going to try it again.”

“Let him.” 

You nodded, breaking eye contact and sinking back into Spencer's slightly wilted couch cushions. 

“In your bed? Really?” he asked, talking another sup as you took a gulp, letting the beer fizz down your throat before you could answer.

“I told him to expect me tomorrow because of how the case was looking. I guess he wasn't expecting me.” 

“I think that was a given. Unless he was into that. Exhibitionism is one of the most common kinks among adult males, and-” 

“Oh he was not into exposing himself,” you laughed into your drink, propping your head up on your hand and turning to face Spencer more. He shot another questioning glance but didn't push the issue, so you silently explained as well. By pinching your fingers together to the approximate size of your ex-boyfriend's dick. 

“Oh. Well, it's not the size that counts?” He whispered almost ironically as he took another sip, now much closer than before. You'd done your best to distance yourself from your boyfriend even as he'd followed you through your apartment half naked, but you didn't seem to find Spencer's proximity threatening at all. 

Maybe because he wasn't having sex with a random woman in your bed 5 seconds before. 

“You wanna know the worst part?” You said, leaning closer as if to tell him an even bigger secret. “He didn't even know how to use it. I haven't-” 

Another phone call blasted through, and you grabbed your phone and put it behind you. 

“He's really great at interrupting conversation when it’s just getting good,” Spencer laughed, but you were slightly disappointed that he'd leaned back away now. 

“What was it you were saying?” He asked, taking a swig of beer again, can nearing its close. 

“I haven't had an orgasm in almost three years,” you said bluntly, watching the most genuine spit take you’d seen in your life. You pat Spencer's back as he coughed up inhaled beer, bringing your feet up under you into a cosier position. 

“Okay now?” you asked as his breathing returned to normal. 

“No? Three years, Y/N? Really?” 

You shrugged and looked away  almost embarrassed to be meeting his eyes now that your sexual history was the topic of the night. 

“We had sex. He's just… he's just a really lazy lover. It'd be the same stuff every time. Handjob to some clumsy fingers missing my clit, a few pumps and cum on my face. I wasn't exactly initiating seven days a week in the hopes that this time he'd be able to locate it.” 

Spencer was somewhere between horror and trying not to laugh, eyes wide with either alarm or the strain of having to keep it in. 

“It's okay, you can laugh,” you said, but he shook his head politely.

“Y/N, I was in prison and still had more orgasms than you this year.” 

“Hey, I hear prison is a great place to meet new people. Have new experiences.”

Spencer shot you a quickly horrified look as his cheeks flushed with heat. “Y/N, I was not someone's bitch in prison.” 

“Why not? You're pretty enough for it?” 

You'd meant the line to come across as teasing, just as you'd expected the finger now twisted in a lock of his hair, playing with him, to come off as teasing as well. 

But you felt a definite throb between your legs when he looked at you again, doubly so when his eyes darted down to your lips. 

You cleared your throat and tried for a teasing tone once again. 

“So you made someone else your bitch?” you smiled, trying to drag his eyes away from your lips before you did something you'd regret. 

“No. I… I spent a long time in solitary, and there's… there's really not that much to do.” 

“So you did yourself?” 

The tips of his ears were scarlet when you finally decided to back off, tucking the curl of hair behind his ear and letting him cool off. 

“Why didn't you masturbate then?” he asked, pouting slightly still from your interrogation. 

“Excuse me?”

“Your boyfriend couldn't make you cum, but a vibrator probably could. But you still haven't had an orgasm in three years. Why is that?” 

It was your turn to feel the heat, the warmth from the beer finally reaching your head. 

“He didn't want me to.” 

You didn't mean for the words to sound as sad as they did. The fact itself was just incredibly sad. Your boyfriend saw anything vaguely phallic shaped as competition and had encouraged “organic” coupling instead. 

You waited for Spencer to say something else, anything else as you held his gaze, waiting for the other shoe to drop, and him to start talking down to you as if you were simply a victim of the worst sex in the world. 

Instead, he said “so did that other woman look as miserable as you've been for the last three years?” and the spell was broken. 

You laughed so hard, you nearly choked on the beer you'd already finished. This time, it was Spencer's turn to land a hand on your back as you winded yourself with laughter. 

“She looked bored! She looked genuinely bored. I almost thought it was just a lifelike doll, she was that unphased,” you kept giggling between gasps, forcing the words out as you threw your head onto Spencer's shoulder, hand landing on his thigh as you finally calmed down. 

“I'd be horrified if anyone looked bored while in bed with me,” came Spencer's voice, and a little shiver ran down your spine as the rasp of his whisper rang in your ear. 

You looked up from his shoulder and caught his eye immediately. If you wanted to, you could lean up by a centimetre and catch his lips with yours. And you suddenly, very much wanted to do that. 

A final shriek of your phone behind you deterred you for a few seconds, and you were about to work yourself up to scooting a little bit away from Spencer when he leaned over you, grabbed the phone, and hung up on your boyfriend. 

“Do you want to cum, Y/N?” he asked, as quietly as before as his hands traced over you on their return journey to him. He looked down your body, eyes greedily drinking in your breasts, hips, thighs and legs tucked into his side on his couch. 

You didn't know what you were going to respond when your head practically nodded by itself. Enthusiastically. 

He doesn't immediately pull you in for a kiss, and you're worried for a beat that he meant that only as a hypothetical and not an invite. A final cry from your phone has you standing in seconds, completely detached from Spencer, and the nearly embarrassing moment you pouncing him would've been.

“I should probably take it this time,” you explained, turning slightly. 

But Spencer was faster than you, if not more prepared for what was to come. Wrapping an arm around your waist, Spencer tugged you back, pulling you onto his lap. When you were firmly situated - ass over his now evidently firm cock - he grabbed the phone out of your other hand, hung up and put it in his pocket. 

“Spencer, I-I don't think that's a good idea,” you gasped as his hands slowly progressed up to your chest, and his lips dropped to your neck, biting and sucking along whatever flesh was easy for him to access. 

“You need to cum. You deserve to cum, Y/N. I'm just here to help. Use me.” 

You stifle a sharp, quick moan, biting your lips and thanking God that he couldn't see the face you made when his hips ground his cock up into your ass. 

“I'm probably not ready for this,” you stuttered slightly, breath departing your body quicker than it could arrive. 

“Probably not.”

“We work together, too. It would be awkward.”

“It might,” he nodded. “But you still want to.” 

You couldn't help the moan, finally letting it free as you tossed your head back and clawed at his forearm, wrapped around you. 

Your ass had a mind of its own, grinding back into him in circles as his hands found their way under your shirt, inquisitive fingers stroking your nipples through your bra. 

“S-Spencer,” you whimpered again, legs spreading apart as you felt that familiar warmth settle between them. He didn't miss the longing in your tone, the shift in your core, pushing one hand down your stomach and trailing it onto your thigh. 

It was as close as he could get with your pants still on, tight against your skin. He squeezed your thigh,  still licking and sucking at your neck before his hand rose to the clasp of your pants. 

It took him a long lime to fumble with them, and you thought of helping multiple times but you let yourself get distracted by the tense definition of his muscles, the rigid line of his body as he strained to please you. 

Your mind fogged with lust, and you felt the vibrations from his pocket right under you when your phone rang again. You practically jerked up in shock as pleasure hit you in a wave, Spencer's fingers finally dipping into your panties just as the vibrations hit you. They weren't centred, of course, not anywhere close to where you needed them to be for you to enjoy them the way you would a toy, but that's what Spencer was for. 

He let the call ring out, tracing small, slow circles over your clit as you jumped up into his hand, moaning and whimpering the entire time. 

“What an idiot. I bet he never touched you like this. Nice and slow.”

“N-no, S-s-” 

“I'm so glad I'm right. He didn't deserve this beautiful cunt. You're so wet for me, right, baby?” You nodded and he hummed in response, voice low and making you pulse in his lap. 

“That's it, good girl,” he whispered as you worked your cunt up and down his fingers, stilling himself so you could find your own pleasure. 

“Spencer… Spencer, fuck-” 

With his free hand, he turned your face to the side and finally kissed you properly as you moaned into his mouth. He was quick to deepen the kiss, to press his tongue against the seam of your mouth and enter your mouth, quickly dominating you as you let yourself get more and more excited. Your hips stuttered, out of rhythm and out of practice, and you almost whimpered in frustration that you couldn't get off quicker, that your body wasn't finding the orgasm quick enough despite how good, how perfect this felt.

Sensing your growing frustration, Spencer broke the kiss. 

“Come with me,” he said, pulling his hands away from your wet cunt and out of your stupid pants and encouraging your hips up until you were stood and he was stood behind you. 

Cock still firmly stood against your ass, he walked you all the way to his bedroom, hands on your hips the entire time, memorising the sway of your walk. 

“Strip and get on the bed, please, Y/N,” he said, finally peeling himself away from you as you nodded quickly and listened to him immediately. You weren't sure what to expect, so you hesitated, laying down, crawling up until your head hit the pillows. You were almost disappointed when you finally looked back at Spencer and he was still fully clothed, so sure that he was going to fuck you to your climax. 

Instead, he approached the bed, gently slid his arms around your thighs, opened your legs wider, knelt on the floor and brought your cunt to his face. 

The first touch of his to guess to your clit had you almost beside yourself with lust. You'd been sexually active for a handful of years, and this - THIS - was the first time you'd experienced such acute pleasure. 

Your hips were unable to stop, thrusting up into his face as you willed his tongue to engulf you, to be a tool in your pleasure. 

Again your phone rang, but he grabbed it quickly, pausing only a second to silence it and discard it on the bed beside you, sitting it further up the bed where it would no longer be a distraction to him. 

He dove right back in, and you rewarded him with wave after wave of fierce moan, your writhing body only restricted by a hand snaked up onto his stomach. You still pushed against his face, practically fucking it as he flattened out his to guess and let you chase your high. 

“Spencer!” You gasped and moaned, voice dripping with lust and desperation, mouth not even properly forming words now you were so close. 

You propped yourself up slightly, looking down as Spencer's eye caught your own, his chin slick with your juices, his eyes dripping with lust. You grabbed a handful of his hair and jumped that little bit faster as you felt that long forgotten whisper of pleasure, that all-encompassing explosion of satisfaction, and you came apart on Spencer's tongue. 

“Thank you, thank you, Spencer, shit, thank you,” you whimpered, falling back again into the bed as you rode out the high. When you managed to open your bleary eyes again, Spencer was propped up above you, but instead of paying you attention, he'd grabbed your phone and bought it to his ear. 

“You heard that? Good. I'm sure you're aware now that she won't be returning your calls tonight. Goodbye.” 

His voice, his words, were like a cold bucket of water to your brain as you sat up, reaching for him and finding him as his hips circled your waist. 

“Was that-?” He cut you off with a kiss  a sweet, soft one. 

“Yes.” He kissed you again  and you melted into his touch as he pulled you into his lap again. 

“H-He-” 

“He knows now what a real orgasm sounds like. He knows you're not interested anymore. He knows you're mine now.” 

You shivered at the words, your lust addled brain flooding your senses, and your cunt as you reacted to the possessiveness of his words, his tone. Part of you was turned on by the exhibitionism as well. You'd had to walk in on your ex boyfriend completely exposed, and there was satisfaction in kicking him to the curb with a similar fuck you. A fuck you that you'd enjoyed a lot. 

You pressed your lips against Spencer's and rocked your hips against him again, tasting yourself on his tongue as he laid you down once more. His cock twitched against your leg as he propped you up on the pillows, and your hands trailed down to show it some attention as your sighed into his kiss.

He eagerly shed his clothes, first his top, sitting up and pulling it over his head, giving you a deliriously enticing shot of his chest and soft stomach before dropping down to cover your body again. You let your hand find the sprinkling of hair on his lower stomach, though, following it down as you encouraged his pants off. His cock was thick and heavy in your hand, and you gladly stroked it as he kissed the plains of your body again. He found the side of your neck that he'd neglected earlier, licking and sucking until it was almost as loved as the first side, before pulling your hand away from his cock. 

You pouted and began to protest when he quickly lined his cock up with your cunt, and slid in deep and soft before you could. 

“Needed to be in you,” he whispered in your ear, gripping your hips and sliding your legs up and around him as he pushed that little bit deeper. “Keep them nice and wide for me,” he said, dropping one last kiss to your lips, before his chest rose, and his hips pulled away again. 

When they snapped back into you, you let out a generous scream of pleasure that almost had you wishing you'd never hung up. He set a quick pace, a furious pace as he too moaned into the contact of your cunt and his cock, two desperate people searching for release. 

“So tight, Y/N, you're so tight,” he moaned, flesh hitting flesh as you dug your nails into his arms, already so wet again, you could feel the sheets under you growing damp. His hand left its perch on your hip and found its way to your clit once again, and you knew that you weren't going to be able to keep to this pace without cumming a second time. 

“Keep moaning for me baby, show me how much you want it,” his voice begged, almost a rumble with how lustful he sounded. You let your voice carry, each moan a little bit more unrestricted than the last. 

“Louder, Y/N, please. I want to hear how much you're enjoying this, you don't know how much I enjoy hearing your pleasure.”

His prayers were answered when he lowered his head back down and took one of your nipples into his mouth, gently grazing it with his teeth between licks and sucks. You practically screamed his name, pressing your chest up to grant him better access. 

You liquefied beneath him, pressure building and building until you felt him rock, lifting his chest as you came. He pulled his cock out, teasing it through your folds as you stuttered around him, your arousal squirting across his cock and sheets as you fell back to the bed, gasping in pleasure. Your hips stuttered against him, and he soothed you gently, still working his cock through your folds gently as your clit went from overwhelmed to calm to quickly overstimulated. 

“Spencer,” you whimpered, almost unable to take all the pleasure he was offering you. “Spencer, it-it hurts.” 

“Don't you want me to stop?” He asked, stopping his movements for a second as you deliberated your answer. The lack of movement was answer alone, and you shook your head no wanting to feel his cock against you, inside you, one more time. 

“Louder, Y/N, tell me what you want.” 

“I want to keep going,” you said, as he began slowly rocking his cock against you again, sticky from your cum. 

“What do you want me to do?” He asked, teasing a nipple with his hand as your eyes fluttered shut. 

“Please fill me up again, please I want to cum again.” 

“One more time?” He asked.

“Mhmmm… one more… one more, please.” 

You were cum drunk, so horny that you couldn't fathom stopping there. He pressed another kiss to your lips and encouraged you to flip over, propping a pillow under your stomach as he pulled your legs into the right position. 

You snuggled into the pillows at your head, pushing your ass up for him slightly as he nudged his cock against your entrance once more. 

“Where should I cum  Y/N?” He asked, reaching under you to slowly circle your clit again. 

“H-hmmm…” you said, eyes shut, focused more on the pleasure than the question. You didn't care anymore. You didn't care where he came, just as long as he let you do it, too. 

“Y/N, I expect an answer. Where should I put my cum?” 

“Anywhere,” you pouted, pressing your hips back into his cock in the hopes that he'd just fuck you again already. 

“That's not an answer,” he said, gently slapping your ass as he pulled his cock away. 

“On your back?” He asked, fingers still working your clit underneath, but trailing lower until they found your cunt, two entering you to keep you wet and stretched for him. 

“You'd need to shower before you could pass out, but I'm happy to help clean you off. They have communal showers in prison, so I'm not shy.” You moaned at the suggestion but couldn't answer further. 

“On your stomach? Again we'd have to shower off, but I would love to see your boobs decorated all nicely.” Your moans were whimpers now as he edged you with his fingers, his words gentle in your ear but dripping with so much lust and promise you couldn't stand it. You didn't want to make decisions anymore. 

“On your face?”

“Not on my face,” you snapped quickly, and he nodded and stroked your hair, hooking a strand behind your ear as he agreed. 

“Okay. Where, Y/N? Be a good girl and tell me.”

“I-Inside. Cum inside me. Please.” 

“Of course. Good job.”

He pulled his hand free gently, and quickly replaced it with his thick cock, and you moaned again at the weight of it against your walls, the familiar stretch of it. In this position, he reached deeper somehow, his thrusts slower, more precise as he drew out his own orgasm as long as possible, maximising his ability to pleasure you. 

“Good girl,” he muttered against your skin, dropping a kiss to your back. “Good girl.” 

“Wanted to do this for so long, Y/N,” he confessed with each thrust. “Look at how pretty this pussy is, how wet it is for me. I wish your boyfriend could see it. I wish he could see how well-behaved you are for me. How nicely you take my cock.” 

His deep, slow strokes, his words, the kisses he pressed against any inch of your skin he could reach combined to push you over the edge a third and final time. This one wasn't loud. It wasn't dramatic. It was a steady shudder of pleasure from your hips and a quiet, satisfied sigh. 

You didn't say anything  but Spencer knew, he felt it, and he came moments after, cock deep inside as he filled you with his cum. 

“You're on birth control, right?” 

“IUD. Pill. Yeah.” You say between breathy sighs of contentment.

Muttering something behind you, he pulled out finally, leaving for a minute to grab a washcloth and clean himself off before returning to help you as well. 

“What did you mumble?” You asked, as he crawled back into your arms, looking up at him. 

“What?” He asked, ears turning slightly pink as you stared at him intently. 

“Just now. I told you I was on birth control, and you mumbled something.” 

He looked away, refusing to meet your gaze before dropping to kiss you sweetly once again. 

“Tell me,” you said, and he kissed you again. 

“Spencer, tell me,” you pouted, and he kissed the pout away. 

You almost asked again, but he kissed you too quickly, too deeply  and you lost your breath again. 

“I said,” he started, leaving you panting under him again. “It was good you're on birth control, because I like the sight of my cum dripping out of you.” 

The remaining breath left your body as you gasped, your face growing hot. You burrowed your face in his chest and let him hold you as you drifted into sleep, wrapped up in each other. 

[ceramini]

more of loser jake omgg idkk i find it so cute😭😭

⁺𝅄 𓊆 ❀ 𓊇 ahh engene yearn for loser!jake (we’re engene) hehe here’s something I cooked up :3 it’s supposed to be cute might be a little TOO cute, but YOU ASKED FOR IT SO IM DELIVERING!!

pair loser!jake x hot!reader ͡ ͘◡ ꫶᳝᳜᳝᳜᳝᳜৯ tags fluff, fluff & fluff.. like nothing bad here ✿ scene It’s stupidly domestic, aggressively soft, and just a little feral. You bully him, he worships you, and somewhere between waffles and way too many food metaphors, you start thinking maybe you’re kind of obsessed with him too. A morning where his love is loud ────── library ⊹ ࣪

like + reblog appreciated <3 click to join taglist

Jake wakes up mouth-first on your collarbone.

Which wouldn’t be a big deal, you’re warm and smell good and your arm is draped around his waist in a way that makes his dumb little heart squeeze, except…

“Don’t,” you mumble without opening your eyes. “You haven’t brushed.”

He freezes.

You crack one eye open and glare.

“No morning kisses,” you warn. “We’ve talked about this.”

Jake whines and buries his face in your shirt.

“I’ll be nice about everything else,” you murmur, “but I draw the line at morning breath.”

“I wasn’t gonna kiss you,” he mumbles into your collar. “I was just breathing your air. Like a lil parasite.”

You thump the top of his head. “Romantic.”

He grins.

Your nails scratch lightly through his hair, half-asleep. Jake goes completely limp. He’s never met a more perfect woman. Hot, mean, and still willing to give him head scratches like a golden retriever. He’s living the dream.

He nuzzles closer. “I like when you let me stay over.”

“You stayed over on accident,” you yawn. “You cried about a documentary and passed out on my lap.”

“Because the turtle made it back to the ocean. And the music was really emotional.”

You sigh. “And then you got hard and didn’t know what to do with it.”

He lifts his head, affronted. “That was private.”

“That was embarrassing.”

“You kissed me after that!”

“Yeah, and I regret it. You haven’t brushed.”

Jake groans dramatically. “It’s so cruel how hot you are and how much you hate germs. How’s a guy supposed to romance his gorgeous girlfriend when she refuses to be kissed awake?”

“By your decomposing tongue?”

“I was gonna do it tenderly.”

“You were gonna do it nastily.”

Jake sulks into your chest.

You stretch with a little hum and reach for your phone, lazily scrolling while he makes himself at home in the safety of your cleavage. You’re not wearing a bra. Jake’s entire sense of self is hanging by a thread.

“You smell so good,” he mumbles. “Is that your lotion? I think my dick got hard out of, like, scent memory.”

“You are genuinely disgusting.”

“You’re the one with tits out and legs warm and thighs all plush and soft like this.” He rubs his cheek against your side like a sleepy cat. “You’re asking for trouble.”

“You’re asking for gingivitis.”

Jake groans. “Just one kiss. I’ll aim for, like, the general cheek region.”

“You just admitted you’d miss.”

“Let me worship you.”

“You can worship me after toothpaste.”

You push him off and climb out of bed in your tiny shorts and tank top, and Jake genuinely feels like he’s watching a goddess float through a foggy dream sequence. Your ass jiggles once and he whimpers like a kicked dog.

“I’m brushing,” he calls out after you. “I swear. I’m gonna be so minty.”

“Better be,” you call back from the bathroom. “Or I’m cutting you off for a week.”

Jake trips over the blanket trying to get to your toothbrush cup.

He does a full 60-second swish with Listerine while making eye contact with himself in the mirror, like he’s psyching up for a championship game.

You’re tying your hair up when he comes up behind you, all dopey grin and freshly washed mouth.

“I’m ready for smooching,” he declares.

You give him a long, judgmental look. “Show me your tongue.”

He sticks it out obediently. You nod.

Jake places a hand over his heart, solemn. “I’m pure.”

“Barely.”

But you kiss him anyway.

It’s sweet. A little goofy. A little slow. Jake makes a satisfied noise in the back of his throat, like he’s being fed for the first time in days.

You break away and he’s already chasing after your lips like he forgot how to breathe. You roll your eyes and tilt your head back as he kisses your jaw, your throat, your shoulder.

“God,” he breathes, “you’re so fucking hot. Like, evolutionary advantage hot. Like, statistically impossible hot. Like, if we were in a zombie movie, people would sacrifice themselves to save you.”

“You are so weird in the mornings.”

“You made me brush,” he says, lifting you up to sit on the sink. “Now you have to deal with the consequences.”

You let him stand between your legs, your fingers threading into his hair again, soft and slow.

Jake stares at you with big eyes, overwhelmed.

“You’re so pretty like this,” he whispers. “All sleepy and soft. I wish I could take a picture.”

“Your camera roll is already 90% me.”

“Not enough.”

You kiss his forehead. “Brush again after breakfast and you can put your head between my legs.”

He salutes. “It’s an honor to serve.”

You make waffles.

Jake watches you do it like it’s a TED Talk. He’s sitting backwards in a chair, shirtless, chin propped on his arms, just staring.

You’re pouring the batter into the waffle iron when he says:

“You’d taste so good with syrup.”

You pause.

“You mean these waffles,” you say slowly.

Jake blinks. “Huh? Yeah.”

You raise an eyebrow.

He blinks again. Then turns red.

“I didn’t—I meant the food,” he says quickly, backpedaling so hard the chair squeaks. “Like, if you were, uh, eating it? Not if I was—like—eating you, you know? Like if I was just. Consuming your—”

“Stop.”

Jake’s face is in his hands.

“Do you hear yourself?” you ask.

“No! That’s the problem!”

You sigh.

He groans. “I swear I wasn’t trying to be nasty.”

“You never are,” you mutter, flipping the waffle.

“That sounds like slander.”

“You’re too stupid to be nasty on purpose.”

He brightens. “Thanks, baby.”

“That wasn’t a compliment.”

But Jake is already up and wrapping his arms around your waist, all warm and clingy and way too comfortable resting his cheek on your shoulder like it belongs there.

He smells like mint and laundry detergent. You should not be soft for this man. And yet.

You serve the waffles on a plate, hand him one, and watch him absolutely inhale it. He’s shirtless in your kitchen, hair messy, syrup on his knuckle.

He licks it off with a little hum and goes, “Wanna know something?”

“No.”

“You’d be so good with powdered sugar. Like those soft little peaches. You’re kind of like a peach. Sweet and round and juicy and—”

“Jake.”

“Yeah?”

“You’re doing it again.”

He stares at you mid-bite. Mouth full. Eyes wide. Confused.

“I literally don’t know what I said wrong,” he mumbles.

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “You cannot keep comparing me to edible things with adjectives like wet and ripe and juicy and soft.”

“But that’s how you are.”

You glare.

Jake tries again. “You’re like a really beautiful fruit that I wanna keep in a glass box so nobody else can touch it—”

“Still sounds like you want to eat me.”

“Okay, yes, but not in, like, the nasty way—”

You shove a piece of waffle into his mouth.

Jake chews happily.

You sit across from him and eat in peace for approximately thirty-eight seconds before he tries again.

“You know when you cut open a honeycomb and it drips all golden and perfect and sticky—”

“Oh my god.”

“—and you just know it’s gonna taste sweet and natural and good for your soul—”

“Jake, enough.”

He giggles and leans over to kiss your cheek. “Sorry. I just love you so much. It leaks out.”

“You’re leaking unfiltered brainrot.”

Jake looks deeply pleased. “You called it brainrot. You’ve been spending too much time with me.”

You snort. “Tragically.”

He beams.

You lean your head in your hand, watching him. Syrup on his chin. Waffle crumbs near his collarbone. Hair falling into his eyes. A little sun-dazed and stupid-looking.

You sigh.

“You’re like a dog who learned to speak just enough to say weird things.”

Jake gasps. “You think I’m magical.”

You rub your temple. “I think you’re mentally unwell.”

He just grins wider.

You finish eating while Jake tells you about a dream he had where you two lived in a cabin and he made jam. You don’t ask why he was making jam, or what that has to do with anything, but he gets real serious when he says:

“And in the dream you came in wearing one of those oversized knit sweaters, and I just knew I was gonna marry you.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Because of a sweater?”

“No,” he says dreamily. “Because you licked jam off your thumb and it was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

You throw a napkin at him.

Jake giggles and catches it midair. “Seriously, though. I think I’d die for you.”

“You’d die from salmonella if I let you cook unsupervised.”

“Let’s live in a tiny house and you can hold me hostage with your sexiness.”

“That’s called marriage.”

“Perfect.”

You roll your eyes, but your heart is glowing.

Jake grabs the dishes before you can move, rinses them badly, and then turns to lean against the sink and say, very earnestly:

“I love mornings with you. Even if you bully me. Even if you ban my kisses. Even if I’m, like, two dumb thoughts away from getting sprayed with a water bottle.”

You squint at him. “Are you gonna say something gross again?”

“No.”

You stare.

He fidgets.

Then: “You’re like the cinnamon glaze on my cinnamon roll heart—”

“Jake.”

“Wait! Wait! That one was cute—”

“TOOTHBRUSH. NOW.”

He stumbles laughing all the way to the bathroom.

And you follow, shaking your head, heart full, already thinking of ways to kiss him speechless later.

🪷 ─── @gxwesn @gyarumindd @somuchdard @ssanhwatto (join the taglist guys..)

[heavenlybodies333]

Fuck Around and Find Out -S.R

Spencer Reid x coworker!reader

The BAU bullpen was unusually quiet for a Tuesday morning. Quiet—except for the unmistakable sound of Spencer Reid laughing. Honest-to-God laughing. Loud enough that Penelope Garcia had poked her head in from her office like a prairie dog, wide-eyed and clutching her oversized glitter mug.

The reason? You, standing frozen by your desk, half a scream still lodged in your throat, face flushed, heart hammering. A small airhorn—rigged expertly beneath your rolling chair—had gone off the second your weight touched the cushion. Spencer had timed it perfectly. You’d jumped six inches off the seat like you’d been tasered, papers flying.

Spencer was doubled over by the whiteboard, flushed and wheezing behind his hand.

You blinked at him. “You’re dead.”

He smiled sweetly. “You were the one who said you couldn’t be scared.”

“You know I only said that because you said you’d profile me into a fear response.”

“Which I did. Successfully.”

“You bastard.”

“Oh, don’t pout,” he said, brushing imaginary lint from his cardigan sleeve like the smug bastard he was. “It was scientifically sound. You’re most startled when your focus is fragmented—coming back from coffee, headphones in, already multitasking. Classic misdirection. And you’ve been smug about getting everyone else with pranks all month. Frankly, it was overdue.”

Yeah, there was no fucking way you weren’t getting revenge. You went easy at first. Psychological warfare. Little annoyances to lull him into overconfidence: Switching his sugar packets with salt. Changing the shortcut on his BAU laptop so every time he typed “unsub,” it autocorrected to “Daddy.” Leaving cryptic post-it notes in his books like “ask Garcia about the rash.” Until, Reid programs your ID badge to display “Dr. Spencer Reid’s Assistant” temporarily and you didn’t know how to change it.

That really annoyed you so you began to hit harder. On Thursday, his pens were replaced with identical ones that wrote in invisible ink. On Friday, the audio on his Bureau laptop randomly played recordings of you saying things like, “Dr. Reid, you’re so smart,” and, “You were right again, Spencer,” every 13 minutes. Loudly. In front of Hotch.

The kicker? You programmed the audio clip to be labeled “File: Lila.mp3.” Just for the look on his face. The following hour, he leaves a note in your file folder that just says “Nice try. MIT wasn’t even my hardest degree.”

The team caught on quickly. Morgan looked between you and Spencer during a morning briefing and narrowed his eyes. “Okay, how long have you two been hate-fucking?” Rossi raised an eyebrow but didn’t object.

“We’re not—” you started, just as Spencer said, “That’s not—”

“Wow,” JJ muttered. “That was in sync.”

You both shut up after that, but the damage was done. Even Garcia started keeping a whiteboard in the tech office with “Reid vs. You Prank Tally” scrawled across the top in glitter marker. But no one—not even you—expected the war to detonate the way it did.

That weekend, while on a stakeout in Denver, it came to a head.

You’d both been posted together, alone in the SUV, surveillance gear buzzing softly in the back seat. It was two a.m., freezing outside, the heater running on low to avoid drawing attention. You were in one of his FBI windbreakers, swamped in the sleeves. He smelled like coffee, ink, and his mother’s perfume—that subtle powdery scent that always lingered on his shirt collars, like the past was stitched into his clothing. And he wouldn’t stop smirking.

“What?” you asked, suspicious.

“Nothing,” he replied innocently. “You’re just… tense.”

“I’m cold.”

He turned toward you, eyes dancing behind his glasses. “I think you’re nervous.”

“You wish.”

“No,” he said softly, “I think you’re waiting for me to make the next move.”

“Is that what this is?” You gave him a sweet smile, your eyes narrowing. “Foreplay?”

He looked at you for a long beat. “Maybe.”

You blinked. The shift in tone was so subtle you almost missed it. His posture relaxed, but his gaze was pinning. Heavy. You didn’t move. Neither did he. Eventually, you turned and stared out the window. It didn’t die down after that.

The next morning at HQ, he dropped a file on your desk with the phrase “Checkmate, sweetheart” scrawled on the cover. Inside were ten pages of surveillance photos.

You. Switching his sugar packets with salt.

You. Programming the audio file on his computer.

You. Changing his pens. Wearing gloves as if you were stealthy.

He'd been documenting everything, always one step ahead of you. The smug bastard. And somewhere deep in your chest, something cracked open like a fault line.

The knock came just after ten. You had just stepped out of the shower, towel wrapped around you, when a knock came at your door.

You opened it without thinking. And there he stood. Spencer Reid. Wearing his FBI windbreaker, rain dripping from his hair, holding your misplaced badge and house key between two fingers.

“I assume this fell out of your bag in Quantico,” he said. “Or maybe you left it on purpose.”

You blinked. “Why would I—”

“Because you wanted me to come over.” There was no accusation in his voice. Just fact. You stared at him. You realized you were only wearing a towel. He realized at the same time. And yet—he didn’t move.

“I came to call a truce,” he said quietly. “But that might’ve been a mistake.”

You swallowed. “Why?”

“Because I don’t want to call a truce.”

You stared at him for a moment before replying, “You gonna stand there or come in?”

The door clicked shut behind him. You didn’t speak. You just looked at each other for one long, slow second. His eyes flicked down your body. He exhaled shakily. There was no one else around. No Garcia keeping score. No Morgan making jokes. No Hotch in the corner giving the two of you side-eye like you were one “Daddy” autocorrect away from being fired.

Now it was just you and Spencer. Alone. No whiteboards. No excuses.

“I’m not here for a prank,” he said finally.

You tilted your head. “No?”

“I wanted to call a truce. That was the plan.”

You took a step toward him. “And?”

His eyes dropped to your collarbone. Your towel had started to slip. “And now I don’t want a truce.”

He didn’t move. Not until you reached for the zipper of his jacket and pulled it down, slow. Peeling it off his shoulders, letting the rain-damp fabric drop to the floor. His hands stayed at his sides, fingers twitching.

“You’re wet,” you murmured.

“You’re—” His voice cracked. “Wearing less than usual.”

You smiled. “Observation skills still sharp, Dr. Reid?”

“Terrifyingly so.”

Your fingers brushed the hem of his shirt. “So what happens now?”

His answer was not verbal. He surged forward—suddenly, finally—and kissed you like he’d been waiting to do it for months. Years, maybe. You gasped into his mouth as his hands slid up your waist, firm and wanting, towel falling to the floor as he backed you toward the wall.

His mouth was on your throat then, hot and hungry—sucking, biting, tasting. You let your head fall back, a soft gasp escaping as his hands roamed. His touch was worshipful but firm, like he was imprinting every inch of you into memory. His fingers cupped your breast, thumb brushing your nipple—slow at first, then faster, until your knees nearly buckled.

“Bed,” you whispered.

He swept you there like it was nothing. Your legs hit the mattress and you fell back, pulling him with you. Spencer climbed over you like a man possessed—crawling between your thighs, kissing down your collarbone, dragging his mouth across your sternum and lower.

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” he said, pausing at your navel, voice hoarse. “I mean it.”

“Reid—” Your hand tangled in his hair. “Don’t stop unless the building’s on fire.”

He groaned. “That’s a reasonable threshold.”

And then his mouth was on you. Hot, careful, devastating—his tongue circled your clit with the same concentration he gave to serial profiles and rare languages, and Jesus Christ, you had underestimated him. He licked and sucked until your hips were arching off the bed, thighs shaking around his shoulders, breath breaking into gasps you couldn’t control.

“Spencer—fuck—” Your hand fisted in the sheets. “Don’t stop—”

“You’ve been like this the whole time?” he asked softly, like he was marveling, the fucking menace. “When you were programming my computer? Or when you were planting that Lila file? You were this wet?”

You let out a little whine. “Reid—”

He groaned, shifting above you, and then you felt him—the hot, heavy drag of his cock against the inside of your thigh. One slow thrust and he was teasing you with it, rubbing along your slick folds but not pushing in.

“Beg,” he whispered.

You almost laughed—almost—but then he gave a tiny roll of his hips, barely nudging the head of his cock into you, and your pride crumbled like sugar glass.

“Please,” you hissed. “Fuck, just—please.”

He pushed in slow, groaning into your neck, both hands braced above your head as he filled you.

You clawed at his back, your ankles locking behind him, his name falling from your lips in broken syllables.

“You feel—” he whispered, panting, forehead against yours, “you feel so fucking good, I can’t—”

“Harder,” you begged, nails raking his spine. “Please.” He was deep. Thick. Stretching you in the best kind of way. You arched beneath him, clinging to his shoulders, breath stuttering.

Pushing in to the hilt and staying there, letting you feel every inch before pulling back. Then again. Again. Your body rising to meet him, gasping for more.

Your fingers clutched at him, his chest slick against yours. You could feel the taut pull of muscle in his back, the trembling restraint in his hips as he tried not to come too fast. The way his mouth found yours again and again, greedy and messy, like he’d never learned how to stop.

“Fuck, you’re so—tight,” he rasped. “I thought about this—god, I thought about this so many times.”

You bit his shoulder, gasping as he drove into you, angle perfect now, hitting that spot that made you see white. “You waited too long.”

He shifted his weight, one forearm bracing beside your head as the other hand snaked between your bodies, fingers finding your clit with the precision of someone who cataloged sensations like data points.

“Fuck,” he muttered, watching your face contort with pleasure. “You look so pretty like this.”

Spencer’s name ripped from your throat as your orgasm hit hard, you came around him hard, mouth open in a silent cry, walls clenching, trembling. “You feel so amazing—” His rhythm faltered, hips stuttering, and then he was groaning deep in his chest, teeth sinking into your shoulder as he came with a ragged, helpless sound. You felt it—the hot rush of him, buried deep—and the way he trembled above you, forehead dropping to yours, breath shattered.

The room was silent except for your gasps. Then, after a long, aching moment, he moved—carefully rolling off of you, still panting, pulling you into his chest like he couldn’t not touch you.

You didn’t speak. Neither did he. The silence stretched for a beat. Two. His fingers drifted along your back, soft and absentminded.

Finally, you broke the silence with a muffled, “So… truce?”

Spencer let out a breathless, wrecked laugh against your hair. “No,” he said. “Absolutely not.”

You lifted your head. “Excuse me?”

“We’ve gone too far. The war is eternal now.” He kissed your temple. “We’ve crossed the Rubicon.”

“You’re quoting Caesar after fucking me raw in my own bed?”

He grinned against your skin. “Would you expect anything else?”

You groaned, flopping back against the pillow.

Spencer turned onto his side, propped his head up on one arm, and stared at you like he was studying something rare.

You tried not to squirm under the weight of it. “What?”

“I think this might’ve been inevitable.”

Your voice was dry. “The sex?”

“This.” He gestured between the two of you. “The… whatever we are.”

Your heart thumped. “You saying you want this to happen again?”

Spencer leaned in and kissed you—soft, unhurried, less like a demand and more like a promise. He pulled back just enough to whisper, “I’m saying I already know it will.”

a/n: 3 PhDs and not one in self-restraint

⋆•★⋆ MASTERLIST ⋆★•⋆

[xlettex]

You’d never slept over before. Not for lack of trying—he’s invited you a few times now, usually in that whirlwind, fast-talking, Bokuto way: “You should stay! I’ll make popcorn! We can watch that terrible space movie you love—wait, not terrible, just… objectively confusing!”

And eventually, you said yes. You’re newly dating, still figuring each other out. Still brushing pinkies under the table, pretending not to smile when he calls you his favorite distraction, and marveling at how easily he can light up a room. Last night was nice. Messy and real. He made you laugh so hard you snorted water out of your nose. You fell asleep curled around his arm, warm and stupidly happy.

You wake up expecting him to be gone. You’ve heard the stories—how Bokuto’s up with the sun, always the first at the gym, how he “accidentally” does 200 push-ups before breakfast because he couldn’t sit still. So when you stir around 9:47 a.m. and find him still beside you, wrapped in blankets and very much not at the gym, you blink in quiet confusion.

And when you try to sit up?

He groans. Loud and pitiful. Then immediately rolls toward you, snaking an arm around your waist, and slumps half his weight on top of you. “Don’t,” he says, voice scratchy with sleep.

“…Don’t what?” you whisper.

His face is in your neck, voice muffled and petulant. “Don’t leave. Too early.”

You laugh under your breath. “It’s basically ten.”

“I’m not emotionally ready for ten.”

You freeze a little, startled by how different this is from what you imagined. No bouncing. No bright energy. No dramatic grin. Just a sleepy man-child melting into you like the mattress is quicksand.

“Aren’t… you a morning person?” you say cautiously.

He groans again. “I am,” he mumbles, “just not when you’re here. You ruin everything.”

"Wow. Thanks."

“No, I mean… you’re warm. And you smell good. And your shoulder’s soft. And the bed feels better with you in it. So now I’m clingy and helpless. Congrats.”

You turn your head, just enough to glimpse his expression—eyes closed, brows drawn, nose scrunched into your skin as if he’s memorizing it.

“I was gonna make coffee,” you murmur.

“Betrayal.”

“You didn’t seem like the clingy type,” you tease, trying (and failing) to pry yourself from his arms.

He only holds you tighter, tugging you closer until your back is flush to his chest. “Yeah, well,” he mutters, lips brushing your collarbone. “You weren’t supposed to find out on the first sleepover.”

You go still. It’s the first sleepover. This was supposed to be casual, a night of snacks and movie reruns while trying not to overthink anything. But this? You weren’t prepared for this.

You clear your throat, flustered. “I could… come back after coffee?”

“No."

You laugh, helpless. “Koutarou—”

He silences you with a gentle touch, turning you toward him until there’s barely any space left between you. His voice is soft now—quieter than before, careful. “Just five more minutes.”

Then he kisses you. Soft and slow, not wanting to startle you. But when you don’t pull away—when your breath catches and your fingers curl instinctively into his shirt—he deepens it. His hand finds the small of your back, drawing you in, needing you closer. There’s no such thing as close enough. He’s still half-asleep, but he’s fully sure of this—of you. 

When his lips leave yours, he says nothing. He just buries his face in your stomach and wraps his arms around your waist. 

You lie there, stunned—lips tingling, the warmth of the kiss still clinging to your skin. Your fingers find his hair, brushing through the tangled, sleep-ruined strands without thinking. His breathing slows. His weight settles against you, easing something deep in your chest.

And even though your brain is buzzing and your heart is screaming, this is really happening—you somehow manage a soft response. “…Okay. Five more minutes.”

(You don’t leave for another hour and a half.)

[stargirlygirl]

imagine long-term bf katsuki being hung up on what engagement ring to buy you. he’s gnawing at his cheeks, constantly sighing and running his fingers through his hair for a couple of months, trying to find a ring that’s good enough for you.

after patrol, he browses every reputable jewellery store in tokyo, searching for your engagement ring. he takes pictures of every one he thinks might suit you and sends them to eijiro.

shitty hair: idk about this one man. diamonds are nice but y/n gives more garnet or ruby vibes

explosive: the fuck you mean? i have to get her diamonds

shitty hair: nah bro, you should get something that suits her. not every girl wants diamonds.

explosive: stfu i know what she wants better than you do

shitty hair: 🤷‍♂️ just my opinion man

you noticed immediately that katsuki was coming home later than he usually does. you didn’t say anything at first because maybe something came up, and he did seem really exhausted.

but as weeks turn into months, you become suspicious. what is it that your boyfriend's doing after work that you can’t know about. he hasn’t changed how he treats you. if anything, he’s been even softer and sweeter with you lately.

you decide to confront him about it.

you sit at the kitchen table, waiting for him to come home. as 8pm fades into 10pm and drips into 12am, your anxiety ramps up. your palms are all sweaty and your heart beats erratically in your chest.

you’re on your feet as soon as the lock eventually clicks and the front door is forced open. you stalk up to a sleepy katsuki, who flings his duffel bag on the floor with a sigh.

when he turns around, you’re looking at him angrier than ever. there’s fire in your eyes as you stare up at him, your brows knitted together and jaw tight.

you spit out, “where have you been?” katsuki blinks slowly, too tired to register your words and respond. he moves to throw his arms around you, but you step back, dodging his embrace.

this time, you repeat yourself with more venom, “where have you been?” you sigh, “i’ve been waiting for you since eight.”

he grunts thickly, “why’d you stay up, babe?” you roll your eyes and slightly suck in your cheeks.

you say exasperatedly, “because i was worried about you. you’ve been coming home late from work for the last two months now.” you fold your arms beneath your chest as you scold him, “so where have you been?! seriously, like, where the fuck have you been wandering off to while i make you dinner and do your laundry?”

katsuki shakes his head, whispering, “baby, s’not like that.”

you catch his words and scoff, “so then, what is it like? i clearly don’t know so why don’t you tell me?”

his full lips draw into a hard line as he huffs, contemplating whether to tell you he’s been hunting for the perfect engagement ring for his perfect girl… and that he’s finally found one. it wasn’t easy, especially since he has just put up with yappertron 3000 chargebolt, skateboard freak elbows, and shitty hair for the past three hours while acquiring this ring.

he bites his tongue, mumbling, “look, i’ve just been busy, yea?”

you chuckle derisively, “you’ve been busy? right, okay.” you turn around and begin walking away from him when he catches your elbow. his grip is firm but considerate.

he tugs you back, making you stumble into his chest. you try to shove him away, but he doesn’t even budge as he draws you into his arms, wrapping you up tightly.

you shout, “just fuck off, katsuki!”

wincing, he rests his chin on the top of your head and murmurs, “no more late nights, baby, i promise. at least not for a while.” his body is so warm against yours, and his musk is so strong. you give up your assault on his concealed but delicious muscles and still in his grasp.

you grumble, “it’s not about the late nights, katsuki. it’s about you keeping things from me.” he kisses the top of your head and rubs circles on your back with his calloused palms.

he mutters into your hair, “i’ll tell you soon, okay?” you shake your head before tilting it back, returning his soft gaze with your harsher one.

you murmur, “so you’re not cheating on me? or are you cheating on me but intend to come clean?” your boyfriend’s mouth falls open as he stares at you, his blond brows raised slightly. regaining his composure, his usual scowl is back on his face.

he grumbles, “cheating? why the fuck would i be cheating on you?!” he licks his lips and gazes past you for a moment, sighing, “for fuck’s sake, babe. god, why the fuck would i be cheating on you? d’you really think i’m a cheater?!” you shake your head, taken aback by his sudden frustration.

he shouts, “I’VE NEVER CHEATED! NEVER! NOT LIKE FUCK-ASS DEKU WHO DIDN’T EVEN HAVE A QUIRK AND THEN—”

you gently pat his chest as you try to soothe him, “okay, okay, honey, it’s okay. i know you’re not a cheater.” after a few minutes, he calms down (for the most part).

he grunts, “d’you really think i’d do that?” a droplet of his spit hits your eyebrow. you go to wipe it away but he beats you to it, apologising all the while. you reassure him it's okay as you stroke his well-defined back up and down.

you say softly, “of course not. but if you’re not cheating on me, then what else are you doing? i just don’t understand, suki.” he shakes his head before settling back into the crook of your neck; his resting place.

he murmurs into your hot flesh, “just give me a few days n’ i’ll tell you, alright?” you pull back, cupping his cheeks with your hands while his fingers clench the back of your shirt.

you shake your head, saying, “you can tell me now.”

he huffs, “babe—”

“no,” you cut him off. “tell me now. i deserve to know why you’ve been coming home so late.” he gazes down momentarily as his fingers curl into your shirt even more, close to tearing the fabric with how tight his grip is.

he mumbles, “stubborn brat.”

it’s like something snaps. he releases your shirt from his killer grasp and smirks. he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a velvety red, ring box.

he grabs your wrist and places it in your palm, saying, “that’s the reason.” he gazes at you expectantly, waiting for you to open the box. but you’re in shock.

your wide eyes bore into his narrow ones as you blink dumbly. your lips are slightly parted, open enough for the flies to make a home in your mouth. and they could with how little you’re registering right now. you can’t think or speak or move. all you know is that your long-term partner just placed a ring box in your hand.

katsuki rolls his eyes, attempting to hide the pain in his expression as you continue staring at him. he huffs, “well, are you gonna open it or not?”

you nod, your mouth awfully dry. you seal your lips as you shakily open the box. inside is the most beautiful ring you’ve ever seen. leaves protrude from the band and petals encircle a bright ruby glistening in the golden living room light; a rose. your gaze flickers up to him before switching back to the ring, and then back up to him.

you stutter, “a-are y-you, u-um, a-ask-asking m-me t-too—”

“yes,” he says solemnly. “you’re everything to me, baby. s-so, yea, will you be my wife?” you nod furiously. smirking, he takes the little box from your hand and slips the ring onto your finger. all the tension pent up in his body dissipates as he embraces you once more.

you squeeze his slutty waist tight as you begin tearing up, trying to process that your boyfriend just became your fiancé. katsuki sweetly kisses your forehead before resting his against yours.

he mutters, “i don’t tell you how much i love you enough. clearly like fuck. i fuckin’ love you, baby girl. more than you’ll ever know.”

a/n: link to the engagement ring design here (please lmk if it doesn't work); just imagine that it's a ruby and not a diamond.

[uravitypng]

big beefy number one pro hero deku is absolutely smitten with you, his chubby little girlfriend, and yeah you're a little bit of an airhead sometimes but that makes you all the more endearing to him.

prior to meeting you he used to feel embarrassed whenever he'd ramble too long about heroes or quirks. after some time people would drown him out after he started his disjointed babbling, not wanting to listen to him ramble. with you it's different, the first time it happened he went to apologise to you. jirou once told him he should try and apologise if he realised he did it to strangers afterwards- especially now that he's a pro hero.

so he goes to stammer out an apology after realising he spoke to you uninterrupted about all might's golden age for five minutes and you tilt your head and giggle at him. izuku draws in a breath. "why are you apologising deku? i really liked hearing you speak. what about his other ages?"

izuku felt like he was malfunctioning, "what?"

you bite your lip to stop yourself from giggling again. who knew pro hero deku is so cute? "like the silver age and the bronze age? are those all the ages or is there like a platinum age too?" izuku grins, you're so interested in what he has to say he can't help it. "wait was is all might's quirk again? he's like strong right? that's his quirk."

izuku pauses for a second before barking out a laugh. you pout and glare at him feigned annoyance. 'she's so adorable and ditzy. i need to speak to her again.'

you constantly praise him, not just for hero work either, and ever single time it makes his entire face red. it doesn't matter that you've been dating for four years now and izuku's brought an engagement ring, he still gets flustered with all the compliments.

people compliment him all the time, it comes with the job, but when you do it it means so much more. " 'zuku you're so brave!" "i don't understand this at all izuku, can you explain it too me? you're the smartest person i know." "you're so pretty." "your hair is so soft." "you're the best hero ever!"

a light sheen of sweat covers your forehead after being manhandled by your boyfriend into the cowgirl position, he loves holding onto your love handles and moving you up and down on his cock, with each bounce your body jiggles. you'll lay in bed with your face buried in his chest as you trace the scars on his arms with your fingertips lightly, "you're so strong izuku." you turn to face him and your chubby cheeks lift as you smile. "i'm so proud of you." his heart skips a beat. he's never loved anyone more than he loves you.

izuku gets possessive of you, he doesn't like people touching you. you're his. before you he never thought he would be jealous or possessive but then you came into his life and he nearly broke the glass of champagne he was holding when he saw todoroki talk to you. he knows todoroki doesn't like you like that, he's liked yaoyorozu since ua but he was too close to you and izuku hated it. his legs moved before he could think, walking up to you both with a forced smile on his face. he wraps his arm around your soft waist, tightly, and kisses your forehead. you smile sweetly at him and lean into his body. izuku brought you home earlier than you thought he would that night, holding onto your thick thigh with one hand while his other hand is on the steering wheel, driving you both home.

his jealous nature was cemented a week after when he saw kaminari talking to you. not just talking to you- flirting with you. if izuku was holding a glass like he was last time he most certainly would of smashed it in anger. you don't even realise what kaminari is doing and izuku knows you don't.

you listen to him talk intently and nod your head, you smile at him and laugh at his jokes. to some people they would think this would be you flirting back but you're not, you're just trying to be nice. kaminari has decided to talk to you and you want to be kind and listen to what he has to say and izuku has really admired that quality about you but right now he wishes you could pick up on the clear signs that kaminari is giving you.

izuku snaps when he sees kaminari look at your cleavage and glance at your body, his eyes lingering on your plush thighs. his voice is strained as he pulls you away from kaminari making some half-arsed, offhanded excuse as he takes you home immediately.

when he saves a small child and he gives them his award winning grin all he can think about afterwards is you. 'who are our kids going to look like? will they have my freckles? or maybe her hair? if they're half as cute as her they'll be the cutest kids ever.' he's already planning their bedrooms and his eyes drift to the baby clothes section at stores.

your boyfriend has the biggest breeding kink known to man and you get reminded of that as he folds your body into a mating press and groans deeply in your ear, "can't wait to see your soft body get softer puppy, promise i'll look after, you won't have to lift a finger." you loudly whine, grabbing hold of his large arms, every thrust causes a loud slapping sound with how wet you are. "you're gonna look so pretty puppy. i'm going to pump you full, make sure you don't spill any for me, just like the good girl you are."

izuku adores you and you feel exactly the same about him.

[semiis]

their cuddle positions w/haikyuu

pairing: various x reader

genre: headcanons ; fluff

warning(s): none

a/n: this is an old post i uploaded on my hq blog from 2020. this was one of my favorites so I thought it was be nice to post it again. back then, i went with the ones i wrote for so i'm keeping it just the way it is. i’m really sorry if your favorite isn’t there. i hope you guys like them !!

_________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

atsumu, ushijima, daichi ⥼ the sweetheart cradle. i personally think this would be his go to cuddling position. his arm wrapped around you, holding you close while he lays on his back, your head buried deep into his chest while you inhale the scent of his cologne. most definitely pats or strokes your head as a sign of comfort or whispers nothing but comforting words to you. 

suna, kageyama, tsukishima ⥼ the leg hug. i don’t know why, but this is definitely you guy’s go to. the two of you would be chilling on either one’s bed, sleeping, on the phone, playing games etc. while one of your legs are entangled together. it’s much more relaxing to him and you both get the physical contact you were craving from each other. 

oikawa, sugawara, kita, asahi ⥼ the honeymoon hug. oikawa loves the physical affection between you two and whenever he’s feeling touch starved this is his go to. the both of you are entwined together, holding the other tight, arms wrapped around each other - almost as if refusing to let go. his chin (or yours) is delicately propped up on top of yours. he can feel your breath against the crook of his neck and he adores it. sometimes find him or yourself peppering soft kisses on the other. 

bokuto, lev, yamaguchi ⥼ the spoon. he loves cuddling, especially when it’s with you. he mostly loves cuddling after a long day a practice when he’s beat and worn out.  he lives for having his arms securely around your torso while your back is pressed up against his chest. you would sometimes find his hands caressing your sides or arms and he’d be eager to leave the most tender kisses against the back of your neck. 

hinata, osamu, noya, tanaka ⥼ the butt pillow. you or him laying on your stomach while the other has their head propped up on your butt. also an easy way to tease his s/o. he loves it. the “best pillow in the room” and the only one you guys want to lay your head against. it’s common if he strokes/caresses your leg, might even draw an invisible heart on it. 

tendou, kuroo, iwaizumi, semi ⥼ the cradle. he enjoys when you're laying on top of him, legs on either side of his body, cradling him while his arms hold you firm against his chest. you listen to the sound of his heartbeat and almost find yourself falling asleep to the soothing, rhythmic sound. 

kenma, sakusa, akaashi ⥼ the lap pillow. he’s fond of laying his head in your lap and often finds himself doing it every time he comes over to your place and vice versa. play with his hair, stroke his cheek with your finger, boop his nose, bend over to place kisses on his face - all of them would make him melt. loves peering up at your face from that angle and admires just how attractive you are. 

© semiis 2024 ; do not translate, repost, modify, or copy my work.

[no1blacksapphirefan]

What if we mix up a few of the previous asks about the Self Aware CookieRun Kingdom AU, Hmm? And by this I mean: What if instead of the player being jealous of the cookies, the cookies are jealous of us with whatever media we're paying attention to while we idly play their game?

Example: I keep putting CRK in the background while I play other games on my Nintendo Switch b/c I hate waiting for things to produce in this game. I just wanna make enough resources to feed into the Wish Tree and Bear Train, but noooooo... Every item that they need takes a minimum of like, four hours to produce. And yes, I know I could just close the app and wait, but I like collecting other resources while I wait. So as the things that take multiple hours to literal days to craft are cooking, I play Hello Kitty Island Adventure, ignoring all of my little cookies and only occasionally looking down to refill my cue for sugar cubes and cake logs and jellies and all that other nonsense before getting right back to what really matters to my gaming life at the moment: becoming best friends with Sanrio characters.

So I would like to imagine all of my favorite cookies are trapped in mines and factories crafting enough resources so I can continue playing THEIR game stress free just to look up beyond the screen to see me having the time of my life becoming besties with a bunch of cutesy mascot characters on an island of fun and adventure. You can't tell me they wouldn't be at least a little jealous.

I do this a bit too, usually when Im farming like bounties or such. Let them auto as I concentrate on something else. I can tots see some being jealous though, especially if they're just stuck doing their victory pose till you realise they finished their job

Shadow Milk Hey! HEY!! Look at him, pay attention to him. He is so much better than whatever you're playing, you can't just leave him to cut wood for you and only pay attention when he needs to do more.

He wants your attention, almost craves it. He won't fully admit that though. He won't even admit he's jealous that you're happily playing a different game, oh he could keep you better entertained if you just looked at him. Let someone else cut the wood and he'll put on such a fantastic performance for you that any other would look like jokes...just look at him for more then a second please or else he'll be sulking once you finally log off the the day.

Black Sapphire He’s annoyed, but he has ideas on how to get up ur attention back, I mean being a radio show host he needs to be entertaining after all. But if those attempts don’t work he might make a loud sound come from your phone, something that’ll draw your attention to even for a moment but not let you realise it was him.

Like a screech of sorts as if your audio is distorting. He doesn’t mind making whatever you wish but at least give him some attention, especially since he’s been working so hard

Burning Spice Oh how he wants to throw his axe at that other device. You’ve been paying such happy attention to him, why stop now?? Just because you need some sugar cubes??? You’re lucky he likes you and wants to see you smile. He knows breaking that other device will surely upset you but than again…

He can make you happier, he promises!! Just lay off it for a few seconds and let him fight in the arena, let him hear the sweet praises you give him as he does the finishing move after you thought it was a loosing battle. He could never disappoint you. Just have your eyes on him. Though he wants to he won’t break the other device even if he figured out how…not yet anyways…don’t make it a habit

Black Forest She loves you so much please look at her. You’re who she wanted to marry, the witch she chose. Even if you’re technically not. She’s been doing a good job you know!! Tending to those sheep so you have such nice fluffy clouds.

At least praise her as she gets back to work but oh she doesn’t mind…well she does, shd feels the growing jealousy as your eyes and attention is on a different game. You really like befriending those sweet animals don’t you? Maybe if she convinces the other cookies, she can make it similar!! Surely you’ll stay longer though right? She doesn’t want to feel like you care more for that game.

Pure Vanilla he knows it’s nothing, that you still love the game and you just need to pay attention to something else but he can’t help the growing jealousy as he works tirelessly during Alliance, only having your attention briefly when you’re moving onto the next difficulty, or when you need him to farm that level again.

He feels bad, especially when he realises he wants you to stop play on that game. He tries to remind himself you still love him but seeing you giggle as you play your other game makes him upset, not at you specifically, he doesn’t even know who he’s mad at. He just wants your attention back on him. He’ll be happy for days when you turn back and happily tap on him like you usually do though

[emmyrosee]

Don’t know if you’re taking request, but imagine modern college au where Toji has baby Megumi (the mother isn’t in their life) and reader, his girlfriend, have class together but has to bring Megumi along cause he has no babysitter or they cancelled, so while sitting on the back seat of the class, Megumi is playing with you hair for attention and so you pick him up and hold him and Megumi kicks his legs happy while he draws you all, as a big happy family UGH

IM GOINF TO DIEEEEEE THIS IS SO PRECIOUS AUGH

And secretly, you’re kind of glad when Megumi’s babysitter cancels, because the little boy is so sweet and so well behaved it’s like he’s not even there anyways, and yet you still adore spending time with him. So when Toji knocks on your door to pick you up, and there’s a tiny Megumi in his arms, he rolls his eyes as you squeal and take Megumi into your own arms, who instinctively wraps his around you.

“Yeah, hug him before me, how nice of ya,” he scoffs, but he smiles as you press a loving kiss to his lips.

“Not his fault I like him more than you,” you coo.

He snorts and grabs your book bag from the ground, carrying it as you make baby small talk with Megumi- what he colored the other day, the pretty kitty he saw on the walk to you, and the new highest number he learned to count to; which, he eagerly displays as you conclude your walk to class.

“You’re so smart, megumi!” You praise, nuzzling his nose with yours while Toji holds the door open for you both. You’re quick to make your way to the back, plopping down on the double table. “Baby, hold megumi for a sec?” You ask, and when Toji takes Megumi back into his arms, you take off your hoodie to lay it on the ground as a slight cushion. “There. Come get comfy Megumi!”

The small boy is let out of his father’s hold and makes his way to the hoodie, sitting down quietly before blinking his big eyes at you and Toji.

“I got your coloring books hold on,” Toji says, taking his own seat as he opens his bag. He pulls out a box of crayons, slightly worn from use, and a big coloring book, filled with dragons and knights for him to fill in. Megumi’s eyes light up as his father passes him the book, and he immediately goes to work.

The class starts like normal. No one says much about Megumi being there, an occasional smile or gesture for a high five from the small boy, but no one bats a negative eye. Megumi’s small but quiet, he’s a good kid who plays with his own toys and sits in place. No one really minds his company- especially not you.

Professor drones on for hours, talking about something you can’t pay attention to- you’re too busy playing with Megumi’s hair, carding the black locks and smiling down at him as he nuzzles into your touch. You’ll get the notes from toji later. You’ve got more important things to take care of.

It isn’t until megumi uncharacteristically stands up with a few crayons in his hand and reaches a hand up to stroke your head, smoothing down any hairs. You turn to him with a smile, patting your lap for him to crawl into, which he does eagerly. You flip your notebook to a random blank sheet- definitely making a note to get a rundown from Toji later- and let him color anything his heart desires. You bury your face into his tiny head of hair and gently rock both of you back and forth, only to smile when you feel Toji’s big, warm hand lay on your back, thumb smoothing up and down your spine. Megumi’s legs dangle and swing happily as he colors, occasionally humming in thought quietly.

The professor finally, after two hours, concluded his lesson, bidding you all farewell and dismissing the class. You stretch and take a peek over to Toji’s messy notes, and you chuckle and lean over to press a kiss to his cheek. “Pay extra close attention so you could teach me, huh?”

He snorts and turns his head to kiss your lips, “you had the kid, I knew your ass wasn’t going to pay attention. Besides- I can always tutor you later,” he chuckles.

You swat his chest with a laugh before turning back to Megumi, “what did you draw, lovey? Can we see?”

You see Megumi ponder for a moment, eyes looking down in thought before he looks up at you and nods quietly. When you open your notebook again, you nearly cry from the drawing.

It’s the three of you- toji drawn as a big square, you, a triangle, and Megumi a small circle. The two of them have dark scribbles to represent their hair, but Megumi took the liberty of being extra careful coloring your hair, making it look nice and pretty. You’re all encapsulated in a big, pink, messy heart that almost fills up the entire page.

“Who’s that?” Toji asks, pointing at a small circle between you and Megumi.

“Mr. Moo,” he says simply, referring to his tiny stuffed cow he sleeps with at night. Toji hums in acknowledgment, but you’re too busy burying your face against Megumi’s, kissing his tiny cheeks and squishing him close. He wraps his arms around you, merely out of instinct.

“Can I have it, Megumi?” You ask, and when the small boy nods, toji scoffs in offense.

“Hey. You got the last one- this one’s mine!” He argues.

“Uhhh, actually, you get Megumi all the time, so I call dibs on all his drawings,” you say back. “It’s a fair trade.”

“I’ll show you a fair trade,” he grumbles, but he leans down to pick up your bag all the same. “Come on. I need a coffee.”

“C’n I have donut?” Megumi asks.

“Why not?” Toji shrugs. “You were good today.”

“He’s good every day,” you hum happily.