#I can't express how much I wasn't expecting this

[victorbutnotreally]

Academic Validation - Lee Minho x Male Reader

A/N: i'm back!! heavily inspired by myself. to all the people struggling with their studies, you got this! your grades only define a part of you, a part of you that can be molded however you want.

warnings: thunderstorms, mental breakdown, mentions of dying, unrealistic expectations from parents, min's parents are horrible in this.

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"You have so much potential, Minho! Where's that little boy who's always eager to learn, huh?? You got an A in maths instead of your usual A*. I can't believe this!!"

"Mom, let me-"

"No!! You're in university, for god's sake! Pull yourself together! Stop hanging out with your friends and you better study, young man-"

"I-"

"Or do you not want to achieve anything? Do you want to be stuck somewhere with part time jobs, barely making a living??"

An A is still a good grade, Mom! he wanted to say, but he didn't dare to. He wanted to scream and shout and defend himself, but he wasn't allowed to. The words were just fading echoes in his ears till the sound of the call ending snapped him back to reality.

His parents see his mistakes, but only that. It wasn't an easy exam, and only one person got an A*. But of course, his parents wouldn't understand that, because he used to get full marks for everything without even studying as a child. And even now, he's mostly relying on his memory and math skills. He doesn't know how to study. Why would you know how to study when you're "gifted"? God, he hated that term. He would beam with pride when he got called that till middle school. Things started going downhill in high school, but he picked it up somehow. Mostly to compete with Mn. And now, in one of the most prestigious universities in the world, he was doing well. Very well, actually. But his parents won't understand. Why would they, when their son is "gifted"?

Sobs wracked his body as he threw his phone onto the bed and slid down against the wall. He wished the wall had arms to hold him, since his parents never did. He wished his wall would come to life, talk to him, kiss his hair and wipe his tears away. He sat with his legs to his chest and his arms on his knees, but that wasn't comforting enough. He curled up into a fetal position on the ground as he sobbed. He didn't have friends. He was always alone growing up, and he was fine, since life wasn't so cruel back then. His comfort was being alone, but he wants to be held right now.

He pulls himself up somehow, going to the bathroom to wash his face. He had an image to maintain. The thunder seemed to rattle the windows and the lightning struck. On any other day, he would've admired thunderstorms, but the sounds and the light overwhelmed him at the moment. He opened the door to his dorm room and walked down the hallway. Mn. The only one who got an A* in the maths test. He wanted Mn. Sure, they wouldn't exactly be termed as 'friends', but he's the closest thing Minho has to one.

Mn heard the knock on his door and wondered who it was at this time of the night. It was 1:03. He went up to the door and and looked through the peephole. Minho? He opened the door, and before he could say anything, Minho threw himself into his arms.

"Min-"

The moment he felt those strong arms wrap around him, Minho lost control. He clung onto Mn like a lifeline, burying his face in the crook of his neck. His sobs echoed in the quiet room, his body shaking from the force of his emotions. And to Mn, the sound of his sobs seemed to pierce him deeper than the lightning. He buried his face into Mn's shirt, shoulders shaking with silent sobs. He's never cried like this before, but something about seeing his calm, collected expression makes the floodgates open. The last time he broke down like this was…well, he didn't remember.

"I-I'm sorry," he chokes out between hiccups, voice muffled against Mn's chest. He's too embarrassed to meet those piercing eyes, but at the same time, he craves his warmth and stability. "Just needed someone…"

He takes a deep breath, trying to regain some composure. When he finally looks up, his dark eyes are puffy and red, and filled with vulnerability rare of him. "Please don't think less of me, Mn."

Mn's expression softened, his hand went up from Minho's back to his face, wiping away his tears.

"Of course not…not for this. Come inside," he says, pulling Minho inside the room once he realized they were still in the doorway. The door clicks shut behind them, loud thunder accompanying the sharp sound.

"What happened, Minho?"

The soft gaze, the gentle tone of someone who's supposed to be his rival, opened the floodgates once more. Years worth of bottled up emotions came out at once as he broke down in his rival's arms. Mn could do nothing but rub his back and hold him close. Minho didn't need anything else. He just wanted to be held. Minho's arms squeezed him tighter as his sobs grew louder. He buried his face in his chest so deep as if he wanted to be lodged in his ribcage, right next to his heart.

"They- they think I'm so smart…I'm not…I'm not smart or anything.."

More sobs.

"I can't do this anymore, Mn, I can't…I'll die at this rate. I just wanna disappear and stop worrying about all this."

"Oh, Minho.." Mn felt a strange protectiveness over the boy nestled so comfortably in his arms. His heart felt warm knowing that Minho came to him out of all people, but at the same time, he felt sad, knowing that Minho didn't really have anyone else.

"What if I don't get a job? What if adulting is harder than I thought? What if…what if I don't graduate?"

The last question was followed by hysterical sobs. If it weren't for the thunderstorm, Mn was sure he would've woken up the whole floor with his cries.

"I-I c-can't do this anymore, Mnie…I can't..p-please.."

"Okay..okay..we'll take a break for a while, yeah?"

"C-Can't…have to..study..I have to-"

"Minho."

Minho looked up from Mn's chest, eyes teary and red.

"How long has it been since you slept?"

"I- I don't know, Mn.." He said Mn's name with such softness, such…vulnerability.

Mn reached to wipe away Minho's tears and reached out to grab some tissues for him.

"Here."

Minho shakily took the tissues, mumbling a small 'thank you' as he wiped his face. He slowly got up, his feet somehow being able to carry his weight now as he went to the bathroom and washed his face. He came out of the bathroom to see Mn making tea.

"Y-You don't have to," Minho said, his voice sore and shaky from all the crying.

"Sit down, Min. Talk to me, okay?"

He obediently sat down, quite unusual for him. But right now, he just wants to hand everything to someone else. And he didn't think he'd be so open with Mn.

"I just..I got an A instead of an A*. I wasn't disappointed with it because it was a super tough exam, but my mom called and said a lot of things. Like I'm wasting my potential. I didn't hear the rest, I was so tired. Don't…pity me. Please."

"I won't. I don't. And you're not wasting your potential, okay?," Mn started, handing Minho a cup of tea. "You're one of the best students here. And one slight drop in your grade doesn't make you stupid. Besides, A is such a good grade."

Minho sips his tea, the warmth of the teacup a comfort to his cold hands. He listened intently to Mn's words, as if memorising them. He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up, a small smile finding its way to his lips.

"You're good enough. I'm proud of you."

"You're good enough." The words rang in Minho's head, louder than the thunderstorm outside. He felt safe. He felt like he could admire it again. He sets down the teacup and hugged him again, pressing a soft kiss to his shoulder.

"Thank you."

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taglist:

@forever-atiny

[cursedvibes]

comparing geto and maki's massacres as the same is crazy to me. geto slaughtered an entire village of defenseless people and justified it as protecting sorcerers from the suffering of those who create curses. maki killed the clan because they explicitly wanted to kill her, mai and even megumi, the new head by naobito's will. she was there to pick up cursed tools and they pushed her to violence after killing her sister. unserious comparison.

Yeah...I can see where they are coming from because Geto was also pushed to extremes and was defending Mimiko and Nanako from harm, but Maki and Mai were abused by the clan, their family, their whole life. They actively tried to kill them. The only one being shown as defenceless is Maki's mother, but she had made it very clear before that she wants to see her daughters dead (she didn't actually mean it, but it doesn't matter what she secretly felt when it doesn't show in her actions). She was no better than Ogi, except she wasn't the one holding the blade. I really can't blame Maki snapping after everything that happened, especially after Mai specifically asked her to burn it all down. Like yes, Ranta seemed like he was one of the nicer ones, but that doesn't change the fact that he was part of the squad responsible for the years of abuse the twins suffered. They already knew from Toji how badly this could backfire, but they still went ahead with not treating Maki any better because she's a woman and Toji didn't retaliate against the Clan, so I guess it couldn't have been that bad... You can argue over who deserved death more than others, but that was hardly a situation for rational thought. It is very unfair to expect Maki to be the bigger person and just walk away from being nearly killed and seeing Mai murdered by their own family.

I think a big difference to Geto is also that Maki didn't go on to indiscriminately murder outside the Zenin Clan. Geto killed his own parents after the village massacre, who as far as we know never did anything wrong except being born non-sorcerers. And he kept going like that for 10 more years. Maki didn't. Hell, she even learned to somewhat reconciliate with how her mother treated her and she doesn't go on a killing spree like that among regular sorcerers, much less civilians. There's a big difference.

Also, I don't get where so many people are taking from that she just shook off the massacre like it was no big deal. She had a whole arc dedicated to dealing with the aftermath and learning to accept her body, Mai and what has happened! Maybe if people didn't skip through the Culling Game arc they'd actually know this (not that I'm bitter or anything). Like, my problem is that we never get the kind of bonding we see between her and Noritoshi or even Daido with the people who are supposed to be her friends (Yuuta, Inumaki, Panda, Nobara etc.). She is clearly affected by what happened, but nobody even asks her how she's doing. The best we get is "Maki is scary now". I would've loved to get more insight into her current mentality along the lines of the Sakurajima colony, something on how she will move on from this, how she will live now without her family (except Megumi), but we got nothing. That's my issue, not what came before. I think Perfect Preparation and Sakurajima colony were great for her character. She isn't the most expressive, but you can still see how affected she is by everything and it is directly addressed how suppressing everything isn't good for her, but then we get nothing past that.

But yeah, apparently she's less redeemable to some than Geto. Because she's cold and people don't pay attention to the arcs that actually delve into her character.

[inklessletter]

I know this isn't the place to cry and whine but I just need to let out of my chest that I've been trapped for a while in a neverending chain of disappointments, and I feel like I can't take it anymore. But that's a lie, because everytime I think that, I can take another one.

[thelostgirl21]

Hugh... Hugh, sweetie... are you okay?!

[blastlight]

i hate that everybody treats me like a fully able adult who's able to research and plan stuff for my life. and i would rather stay in my room forever than be infantalized anymore

[slippery-minghus]

god i feel so fucking stuck. it doesn't sound like i'm getting that job i really wanted after all, which means my only real option forward is to take the supervisor role being created in my office.

they want me for this role. everyone at office level who advocated for its creation had me in mind. it's not really a career path i'm interested in, but it's something.

only problem is my patience and tolerance for Nightmare Coworker is getting shorter by the day. she blew a gasket again today when some r&d folks—whose arrival had only been mentioned to me offhand—showed up. because she wasn't told by the manager herself. she stormed away to go on a walk, came back, and stormed away again to have a long chat with the manager. manager is apparently only doing what the previous one instructed her to: rely on the two point people in the clinics. which, yanno, makes sense.

(fuck. maybe i should take the managerial track. so i can be there for my team like my managers in this job haven't been, and fire the fucking toxic mold spore before she infects the clinic.) (and honestly, because no one has left over her yet, that's likely why nothing has happened. but where the fuck am i supposed to go? back to the fucking donut shop???)

Nightmare Coworker is in absolute denial that she is not The Best, in denial that people with some modicum of power in our office want me promoted, and in denial that it could ever fucking happen. the only thing she has convinced herself of is that i'm going to "get promoted and leave" which. i fucking WISH.

but here we are. no offer in sight for the thing i want most right now. no exit signs for hundreds, if not thousands of miles from here.

i want to take that damn supervisor promotion, but i can't even message my own manager without Nightmare Coworker reading slack over my shoulder and then having a meltdown about it. how am i supposed to go talk privately to my manager, have an interview with her? Nightmare Coworker's going to fucking flip her shit when the reality of an internal promotion with my name on it comes to light. and i DON'T have the energy to cope with it. the only outcome that might not break me is if she has a massive meltdown and quits on the spot. no notice. and i don't know how realistic that is to expect.

myself and others at this office are surprised and demoralized that Nightmare Coworker was not fired months ago. and honestly in hindsight i think Old Manager was far too soft. he was supportive, but too supportive, to the fault that accommodating everyone means accommodating no one. and current manager is spread paper thin, which is why she needs an office supervisor. but the window to get this person fired without invoking catastrophe has long since passed.

i wish i could turn my cold, frozen fear into spite or vengeance. to internally be grinning from the sidelines as i light the match and toss it into the massive pile of kindling and firewood that Nightmare Coworker has dug herself into, and set her ablaze. i wish i could feel anything other than fear.

[sqtorux]

jjk men when you call them your husband

includes: gojo, geto, nanami, choso, toji and sukuna

requested !

wasn't sure if anon wanted an smau or a written one for this so i turned it into a drabble ahahah

gojo: he'd be listening to you yap with an endearing look, half registering what you're saying and mostly just admiring you until that one word would snap him out of his own thoughts. he'd let you continue but then let out a chuckle, not being able to contain himself. when asked why he'd just kiss you on the lips “i can't wait to marry you.”

geto: “how could my husband be prettier than me?” at his geto would just laugh. he would then pull you closer into his arms and utter words of how he finds you the prettiest, most beautiful person to exist. when asked if he isn't flustered at you calling him your husband he'd just shrug “we're basically married already” the slight redness in his cheeks and the tips of his ears with the twitching on the corner of his lips says otherwise about his nonchalant front.

nanami: nanami always knew he would get married to you. but when he heard the word ‘husband’ coming from your lips he still blushes. nanami isn't one to express himself much but he finds himself doing so around you. he'd fix his tie and then mess with his glasses and when inquired about his behaviour he gently caresses your hands, imagining the band of metal to grace your finger that he'd get you soon. “i’m glad we're on the same page about our future”

choso: “husband? are you sure?” you knew what he'd meant by this. he's a half curse and that fact always bothered him but not you. you'd tell him that you didn't care about anything of that sort and he'd cry. choso is a very fragile person and very emotional in contrast to the stoic appearance he has. you adored that part of him so much. “hell we're not even married yet and i’m already crying this much” he'd say between sniffles as you rub his back comfortingly.

toji: you were skeptical about doing this prank on him because he's been married and it was a heavy topic. you did not want to remind him or yourself of it but your curiosity got the better of you and you decided to slip it out anyway. silence followed and your heart sank. you look away and scolded yourself mentally for this. hearing him shift you expected him to walk out but he didn't. he pulls you into an embrace and whispers a bunch of i love yous into your ears. he wasn't a good person particularly but a good husband? he was sure as hell he'd try his hardest for you.

sukuna: “what was that?” you'd hesitate to repeat yourself but his authorative voice would make you do whatever he says. “... my husband” you'd stutter and he'd shake his head. “say that with more pride, i’d like my queen to actually like being my queen”. upon being reminded that this wasn't the heian era anymore he'd speak of the prestige he'd use to have and the privileges that come along with it. you'd be annoyed and tell him to return and fool around with his numerous concubines before storming off. he'd however, would stop you and drag you back “i wasn't done. all that prestige could not compare to a lifetime with you. you'll be my queen, heian era or not.”

it just kept getting longer as it went on lmao

[benegesseritofficial]

The effects of face paint on Harrowhark's psyche

I've now cosplayed Gideon Nav 3 times, with my wife along as Harrow every time. Naturally, this has included full face paint for both of us each time and I have some thoughts.

Let me start by asserting that everything Muir writes in TLT about the face paint is accurate. Rubbing off your lips first, smearing into gray where the black and white meet, the way sweat makes it ooze but not run. I can't say if Muir (a known Homestuck) ever cosplayed as a troll, but I'm positive she tested out the practicality of the skull face paint or otherwise has first hand experience with extensive use of grease paint. Also, the way she describes normal people flinching when they see you is spot on.

I've noticed while putting on the make up that once most of my skin is covered, any flesh tones sticking out start to become unsettling. Specifically, the red/pink of the inner mouth and around the eyes jump out upsettingly. Every time I've done skull paint I find myself meticulously trying to patch over these edges of skin, despite knowing that it's inside skin that Shouldn't Have Make Up On It. Once my face is monochrome, I don't want to be able to see a scrap of real human under there. Smiling, or otherwise opening your mouth wide enough to see the pink, looks UNSETTLING. My own skin causes the uncanny valley effect. You see where this is going. In NtN we learn Harrowhark disassociates often enough that Crux isn't surprised or concerned to see "Harrow" insisting she's someone else. Obviously this is due to her schizophrenia, and perhaps trauma besides. But it doesn't account for every aspect of why Harrow's "like that." On her most lucid days Harrow ignores her body to the point of sweating blood and passing out. She goes entire days without eating. She thinks of herself as a skeleton unfortunately covered in flesh. She sleeps in her paint.

All of which is heinous, but that last one has stuck with me. From age 13-18 I barely glanced down while I showered and whatever I saw I basically blocked out. I wore underwear and a bra under my pajamas to sleep every night. I was going through the wrong puberty, "my body was in open rebellion" as I liked to say at the time, and the only way to cope was to bind it down and pretend it wasn't happening. By Gideon's narration in HtN one gets the impression most nuns of the Ninth are putting their paint on after breakfast and taking it off when they get home. It's not even expected the average person wears it every time they leave the house. But Harrow regularly only takes her paint off in order to redo it. I suspect a combination of being the most brainwashed person in her own cult, knowing how she was conceived, and the regular disassociation make it very difficult for Harrow to conceptualize that she actually lives in a body. If she faced that fact head on she'd have to ask why it so often feels someone else is using her body. She'd have to cope with owning this body, being a part of this body, that was bought with the blood of 200 children who should have been her peers and friends. Instead she pretends it's an object on loan from them. And she does it with 10 layers of black petticoats and so much paint she never has to see her own skin.

Which brings me to the final thing I've noticed wearing full face paint. It dehumanizes you to yourself and everyone around you. I couldn't read my own expressions in a mirror. Even people who understood and were delighted with my cosplay were visibly nervous talking to me. You don't look like a person. Studies have shown that faces wearing heavy make up are ranked as harder to read and perceived as less empathetic. It's a particularly insidious trap of patriarchy that many women find self esteem in wearing make up, while that very act makes everyone around them treat them more callously. And, worst of all, if you stop wearing it once you're used to it, your naked face is shocking. You look sick due to your colors being less bold and the normal small flaws of your face appear unbearably ugly. With all this in mind, Harrow has trapped herself in a feedback loop of not being able to witness her own face and becoming more and more disgusted with the flesh and person underneath whenever she has to glance at it.

[loveanddeepspaceimagines]

Talking to your baby bump ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Zayne carefully arranged pillows to support your sleeping form before settling beside you on the bed, your baby bump now beneath the covers. His hand wandered to stroke gentle circles over the swell, awestruck as always by the miracle inside.

"Hey little one," he murmured softly so as not to wake you. "It's just you and me for a chat." A tiny fluttering kick met his palm, drawing a quiet chuckle.

"I want you to know how excited your dad is to meet you," he continued, voice full of wonder. "I'll teach you everything how to walk, talk...".

His eyes drifted to your peaceful expression, love swelling in his chest. "You're going to have the best mommy, you know. She's the kindest, bravest person I know." Brushing hair from your cheek, he pressed a tender kiss to your forehead.

Turning attentions back to your unborn child, Zayne smiled. "I promise I'll support both of you no matter what. We're gonna have so much fun together, the three of us."

Caressing the bump once more, he whispered, "I love you so much already, little peanut. Can't wait to hold you in my arms."

As if in reply, a stronger fluttering pressed against his palm. Smile stretching ear to ear, he rested his head by your side, content to keep watch over his perfect little growing family.

You were curled up asleep on the couch, your baby bump pressing against the cushions as you rested. Rafayel came over quietly and knelt beside you, gently placing a hand on your stomach.

"Hey little one," he whispered softly so as not to wake you. "It's daddy."

He still couldn't believe there was life growing inside the woman he loved most. Your child wasn't even born yet and already he loved them fiercely.

"I just wanted to tell you how excited I am to meet you," he continued, rubbing gentle circles with his palm. "Your mommy and I have been waiting so long for this."

There was a flutter of movement under his hand and Rafayel's breath caught, overcome at even the smallest response. "I know you can't understand me yet, but I promise I'm going to be the best daddy."

Throughout your pregnancy so far, he had doted on your every need and craving. But in quiet moments like this, he also spoke his heart to your unborn baby through your belly.

"We're going to have so much fun learning and playing together. I'll teach you how to draw if you want!" He chuckled softly. "But most of all, I want you to know how much you are loved already, little one."

He placed a tender kiss to your abdomen resting his cheek there.

The evening sun slanted gently through the bedroom window as you slept, your soft breathing the only sound amid peaceful quiet. Xavier lay beside you, propped on an elbow while watching your belly rise and fall beneath his palm.

9 weeks along now, just the faintest swell showed your child's growth nestled safely within.

Leaning down, he placed a tender kiss to your belly through fabric before whispering, "Hey little one. It's Daddy. I know you can't hear me yet but I just wanted to say hi."

He scooped gentle circles with his hand, half expecting to feel answering flutters even this early. His heart swelled impossibly at the idea of hidden tiny fingers and toes taking shape, getting ready to greet him.

"I can't wait to meet you. Your mom and I will do everything to take care of you, keep you safe and loved."

"You'll know so much love, little peanut. We're going to be a perfect happy family together - just wait and see." Xavier sniffed, emotion rising in his voice. His eyes strayed reverently to your peaceful face.

"You're so lucky to have her as your mom. She's going to be the best." He murmured placing soft kiss to your stomach.

You had drifted off to sleep early in the evening, Sylus sat beside you on the couch, watching your peaceful slumber with a quiet smile.

His large hand drifted to rest gently against the swell of your abdomen, feeling the occasional flutter of tiny movements stirring within. His child, strong and spirited even now, responding to his touch.

"Hey there little one," Sylus murmured low, careful not to wake its mother. "It's just us guys for now. You keeping momma company in there?"

A curious prodding against his palm seemed to answer. His smile widened as he continued his one-sided conversation.

"You're going to turn our whole world upside down soon. But me and your mom, we can't wait to meet you. We'll teach you everything - how to walk, talk. Maybe how to wrestle if you're up for it."

Soft chuckling accompanied the mental image before growing serious once more. "Most of all, we'll make sure you know how much you're loved. No matter what."

His fngertips traced soothing patterns over stretched skin, voice dropping lower. "We'll be here for you always, little crow. Me and your mom against the world."

Glancing once more at your sleeping form, he placed a tender kiss to your belly. "Be good to your mom, you hear? See you real soon, little one."

©loveanddeepspaceimagines 2024

⋆｡‧˚ʚ ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Hope you enjoyed reading this peace! Reblogs and feedback are highly appreciated. I'm hoping i can find mutuals in lads fandom! Thank you for reading!

[hischokehold]

Pretty Please?

older!könig with a pretty girl who won't leave him alone.

"Hello, mister officer." Pretty doe eyes nearly melt in his, tilted up so sweetly just so you could meet his gaze. Arms locked around his, clinging so gently to his biceps like you have been for the past two weeks.

König grumbled, barely taking a glance at you and your provocative outfit, teasing him. "Back for more, little girl? What did I tell you?" He tsks, baby blues barely evading your exposed cleavage pressed up against him.

"To focus on my studies. I am. Swear I am. Aced my exams, don't I deserve a reward?" You hummed, though he found your words rather hard to believe when you were so obviously checking him out.

You've been getting bold recently, haven't you, liebling?

It all started with a simple encounter, really; with König saving your drunken state from a group of men in his local bar. The perfect damsel in distress. He had pulled you by his hip, dragging you to the nearest bench to slip your glittery high heels right back into your feet. It was one of the rare moments where the colonel wasn't in the front lines. Still, he found himself a little pastime, using his influence to do some shady deals in the city's biggest club.

He didn't exactly expect to have such a cute thing clinging to him.

After a few minutes of listening to your rambling, cooing at you, König finally called you a cab and sent you off. A nice encounter, that's all it was.

Until he found you and your little self began throwing yourself at him almost every night, practically begging for his attention. "Just wanted to thank you for last time," You pout, batting your lashes at him. "Can't I do that?"

You could still see the remnants of blues in his knuckles from beating those bastards to a pulp. His big hands pat the small of your back in a reprimanding manner, shamefully reminding you that you were smitten by a man who you met barely a week ago.

"A thank you would suffice, darling."

König stood his ground. He had morals— what little he has left anyways. You're pretty, no doubt about that. He knew he shouldn't be taking advantage of such a fragile girl. But at the end of the day, he's just a man. Surely, you knew what would happen if you provoked him too much with your womanly charms?

"Y'shouldn't be playing around with men like me, little girl." He drawls, accent thick as he lightly taps your soft cheeks. Something clicked in you at the mention of the rather degrading pet name, pupils fully blown as you nodded at his every word, unable to register anything anymore.

An "I like you." comes from your plump, glossed up lips before you could even control it. Your 100th confession this week alone. Many would call you shameless and maybe you'd feel an ounce of it if you weren't so busy eyeing up his bulging biceps through his tight-fitted polo shirt.

He's intense, you think. And he makes you painfully shy.

"Hm?" He tilts his head, and he's so handsome, and gruff, and big that he has your mind spinning around in circles and doing backflips. Soft brows furrow as brutish hands cup your cheeks, lips puckering up into a small 'o'.

The tip of his tongue swipes down his lips while he indulges in the sight. A pretty girl, a young thing looking up at him all stupid and dazed out. Begging for an older man's attention. "How naughty." He tugs you closer, puffing cigarette smoke all over your pretty face, leaving coughing from the sudden intrusion in your nostrils.

He chuckles darkly, lightly patting the small of your back. "Be a good girl and run along, ja?" He flicks his cig to the side, putting its flame out with a stomp.

"N-No! please," you breathe, manicured fingertips finding your way to his belt, slithering along the lines. His eyes never leave yours, darkening as you inch closer to his manhood, leaving you dizzied.

There's hurried chattering in the background, a scantily clad group of three wore worried expressions on their faces, calling out your name.

"Ah, your friends are here, darling." You don't even have time to respond before he's nudging you out the dark alley, sending you off your merry wya but not before giving your rear a little slap.

"And keep that backside lookin' pretty for me."

[talaok]

Old Man

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: Joel needs glasses but won't admit it, and there's only an amount of teasing a man can take before he decides to show you just how much of an old man he is.

warnings: unprotected p in v sex, creampie, hair pulling, (joel gets a lil rough)

Ellie was the one to start it all,

I mean it's not like you hadn't noticed, but she was the one that started with the jokes.

Not very honorable of you to blame it all on the 14 year old, you knew... but still, just to get the record straight, you weren’t the one to tease him first.

“Gimmie Granpa” she had chuckled one time, grabbing the piece of paper where Maria had written down the recipe for her 'world-famous' casserole from his hands.

"Hey-" He'd protested,

"You can't see shit, man" she giggled, "Stop trying to fight it- you're getting old buddy"

And well from then on things had... escalated.

You'd yet to see a day where the poor man wasn't made fun of because of it, but truth be told, he really did need glasses.

You'd even suggested it to him more gently, in the comfort of your own room, away from Ellie's prying eyes.

"y'know baby, there's nothing wrong with getting glasses"

He'd looked at you as if you'd just told him to go fuck himself.

"Don't look at me like that" you'd smiled, rounding the bed to intertwine your hands behind his neck "It's for your own good"

"I don't need glasses"

"no?" you'd bit down a grin "you sure?"

"'m sure alright" he grumbled

"I bet Tommy would know where to get you a pair if you asked"

"darlin'"

"yes, baby?" you'd asked, hopeful

"I don't need 'em"

And you really did want to keep on trying to convince him, but then he'd kissed you and well- it must have slipped your mind.

Unluckily for him, not for a very long time.

He was in the bathroom, trying, or more specifically struggling, to open a bandaid for your injured finger.

It wasn't anything serious, just a little cut, but as you'd disinfected it, he'd insisted on covering it up, only of course you hadn't expected it to take so long.

"Baby, what's wrong, you can't find them?"

But the answer to your question was right before you as you entered the bathroom.

As I said, he was struggling.

A laugh bubbled up your throat as you took in his focused expression, the frown on his forehead, the squint in his eyes...

"Let me do it"

"No I can do it I just-" he tried to get it open again, failing miserably.

"Joel-" you smiled, walking up to him "let me" you said softly

And with a sigh, he surrendered, handing you the poor, tortured bandaid

"I could have done that" he grumbled as he watched you do it in a split second.

"Sure you could, old man" You grinned to yourself, carefully applying the bandage to your finger.

"What did you just say?"

A soft, breathless gasp fled your mouth-

He'd moved right behind you, and his hands were now on your waist.

"Jesus babe" you laughed,

"What did you say?"

His voice was rough, and his eyes... something had shifted behind his eyes.

You watched his reflection in the mirror before you as you answered

"I said I'm sure you could"

"Mhh" he hummed, his head lowering until he could dive into your neck and inhale your scent "The other thing"

"what other thing?" you feigned innocence, enthralled by his demeanor, by the almost predatorial look in his eyes

"You know what"

"no I don'-"

But you didn't have time to finish, he'd already grabbed you by your hair, pulling your head back until his mouth was ghosting yours

"you called me an old man, darlin'?"

He was a different man from a minute ago.

This was the Joel Miller people feared, the one that killed without remorse, the one that fucked you rough- the once that a sick and twisted part of you revered.

"Baby I was jokin-"

"didn't look like it" he growled, his clothed hard-on pressing into your ass making you whimper, "you think I'm an old man, babydoll?" he murmured, his grip tightening around your hair "I'll show you how much of an old man I am"

Next thing you knew, your upper body was flushed against the sink's countertop, and your shorts were at your feet, together with your panties.

You watched from the mirror as he freed his cock with the hand that wasn't holding you down, and then you felt it-

"will you look at that" he chuckled darkly, the tip of his dick sliding between your folds with ease "you're makin' a mess for an old man, babydoll"

"J-Joel" you whimpered

"no no darlin'" he cooed "You've brought this on yourself- now you're gonna be good and take it, alright?"

When you didn't respond, he yanked your head back, forcing you to look at him through the mirror

"alright?" he bent down, growling in your ear

"y-yes"

"try not to be too loud," he whispered "You wouldn't want people to know how much you like getting fucked by an old man"

You had no time to respond, to tell him how much you didn't care, because he'd already pushed himself fully inside of you, and the only thing you could do was scream.

"you can't help yourself can ya?" he muttered, watching your face contort in all sorts of bliss-induced expressions "The old man gives it to ya too good, 's that it?" he groaned, feeling your walls squeeze around him

"look at me" he ordered, pulling your hair again, making you open your eyes and watch him as he ruthlessly slammed inside of you "Look at the old man who's fuking you, darlin', don't be rude" he grinned

The sound of his skin against yours reverberated through the bathroom, and god it was nasty.

"f-fuck" you tried to speak, tears tarnishing your vision

"I know, I know" he pretended to care, getting up from where he was pressing his torso onto your back, using a hand to get you to remain flush against the sink "I'm going too slow, ain't I?"

Oh shit

Oh fucking shi-

If you thought he was going hard before... you hadn't seen anything.

You couldn't fully create one single thought in your mind as he picked up his pace, as he started literally slamming into you fast and hard enough to break you in half.

"I'm jus' an old man after all babydoll, ain't I?" he breathed, one hand still on your back while the other was still forcing your head up to look at him "You'll understand if I can't fuck you as hard as you'd like" it was like he wasn't hearing how loud you were moaning, how breathless your whines and gasps where each time his dick hit your cervix "what's that?" he mocked "you need it harder darlin'?"

"J-Joel-" you whined, begging, pleading for what you weren't even sure

"shh I got you baby" he cooed, bending down to whisper in your ear again, slowing down his pace just to thrust so fucking deep and hard into you you swore you saw stars "I know my old man's pace ain't enough for you doll"

But it was- Oh it was more than enough.

And yet he didn't care- he was going even harder, even faster, even deeper, and you... you didn't even remember your name anymore.

You could feel the thickness of his cock as it slammed into you over and over and over again, the way it would hit the most hidden spots inside of you, the ones only Joel had only ever been able to find, and then-

And then you could hear his grunts and strangled groans as he fucked you within an inch of your life, as his hair fell to his forehead and tears streamed down your face and your eyes struggled to remain open, struggled to keep on watching him as he fucked you from behind with enough force to break the fucking sink you were on.

Until it got to be too much, until you felt your stomach tighten and the fuse lighting, until he hit that secret spot once again, and all you could do was close your eyes as bliss took over your body, as waves of ecstasy washed over you.

"look at you" he groaned "coming all over an old man's cock" he breathed, your walls squeezing him too good to do anything else but follow suit "letting an old man come deep inside of ya"

It took a long moment for either of you to wake up from the sex-induced haze, but Joel was in much better shape than you, so it was him who came back earlier.

he begrudgingly pulled out, enjoying for a moment too long his own handy work before he helped you up, picking you up bridal style once he realized how useless your legs had become.

"baby" you murmured, before he could place you on the bed "You know I was joking right?" you said, leaning up to kiss him, your mouth catching his in a sweet, gentle kiss that contradicted completely the way he'd just ruined your ability to walk properly

"You're not an old man" you promised

"mh?" he hummed, kissing you again just because he could

"yeah" you smiled, melting into the kiss for what felt like an eternity

He was holding you gently, watching your eyes as they begged to close.

"good" he hummed against your mouth, watching it twist into a devious little smirk as a spark ignited in your eyes

"Although I still think you should at least consider getting glasses-"

"darlin'" he stopped you immediately "I suggest you stop talkin''"

"or what?" you bit down a grin, laughing softly

"Or Tommy's gonna be real mad when you tell him you can't make it to patrol tomorrow 'cause your legs don't work"

[easy-there-leftovers]

A Question Unasked

Written with season 1 Spencer in mind

Summary: In which your ambitious, workaholic nature makes Spencer wonder if you've got a crush on Hotch. This slight hitch in his plan causes him to miss a few signs.

[A/N]: Can be seen as a filler from Spencer's perspective of certain scenarios from "Mixed Messages" and a prequel to "As Cool As I Think I Am", but can also just be a standalone

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem! (mentored by Hotch!) reader | cw: slight spoilers for s1e04, allusion to inappropriate workplace dynamics (it's not true, relax lol), slight description of canon-typical violence, mildly inaccurate timeframe | word count: 4k

Spencer looks up from his endless stacks of files on his desk to look at the girl on the other side of his desk. Only a single carpeted walkway really separating them.

He could easily just get up and walk right to her. Ask the burning question that's been on his mind since the Arizona case, but he can't.

Why is that?

He's been your friend for a while, and he's known you for a while longer.

With his eidetic memory, he remembers so clearly when you first started working together. He remembers your starched blazer and pressed blouse, a stark contrast to his swimming-in-sweaters look, and how that alone let anyone know that you were serious about uniform and protocol.

You were, without a shadow of a doubt, one of the prettiest girls he had ever seen, and a fresh graduate just like him.

You were smart, beautiful, and started working at the BAU as early as he did.

And because you were new and young, one of the senior agents had been assigned to supervise your progress. So much like how he was mentored by Gideon, you had been mentored by the unit chief himself; Aaron Hotchner.

He'd like to think that he learned a lot from Gideon. He wasn't the type to hold his hand throughout a case, which he is thankful for, but he had been there to encourage him to think more outside the box. To let his mind be more flexible and creative. To see things from every conceivable angle. Leaving no stone unturned.

He supposed you learned a lot from Hotch as well. With your calm exterior, polite demeanor, and calculating mind that occasionally colored your less polite vocabulary-- He didn't know what Aaron must've been like in his junior years, but he supposed that having you as his colleague was essentially the same experience.

What he does know, however, is how close you are to your boss. Or is it your work?

Either way, you being glued to your work almost always meant that you were glued to him by proxy. You two being the first ones in and the last ones out showed that you spent three-percent more of your time with each other than the rest of the team, and two-percent more than with him.

Granted that had changed as of late, but still!

That didn't leave him a lot of time to ask you if---

"Dr. Reid, if you keep staring at me, I don't think you'll be able to finish your action reports on time." You had said without lifting your eyes from your folder.

Having been caught, he cleared his throat with a small 'sorry,' and directed his head back down to his still endless stack of files. The action earning a couple of chuckles from the bullpen where the rest of your colleagues had certainly seen, or at least heard, the exchange.

Not long after however, he saw Hotch from the corner of his eye lean over the railing outside his office. Calling for you both to meet him inside with his usual stern expression.

Spencer noticed how you got up, eyes still zeroed in on one of your files, and continued on your way up and into the unit chief's open door.

A clear sign that you had been invited there often enough that you didn't need to see where you were going.

You expected it.

He sighs and makes his way into the office as well. Dreading what the meeting could even be for, though he's confident he hasn't done anything wrong.

***

"As you might have noticed in our previous cases, I've paired you two to work on the more analytical aspects of it together. With these changes, we've been able to work twice as fast, and we’re thankful for the help."

Whatever Spencer had been expecting, it was not this. His raised eyebrows evidently agreed with him.

It wasn't everyday that Hotch complimented someone like this, much less in the proper environment. And if your respectful posture, but shining eyes in slight pride were anything to go off of, this was something new for you too.

As he was about to voice his thoughts, you had spoken up.

"Sir, Dr. Reid's knowledge in a wide array of subjects has certainly helped with our investigations. Though I'm afraid I haven't done much aside from ensuring it's accuracy and-"

"No! I mean--," He looked to see you already looking at him in slight confusion before continuing.

"She's been a huge help so far and has allowed me to exchange ideas with her to build a more accurate profile. Not to mention that her ability to mediate between departments has been beneficial to gaining access to pertinent information! So I think she's done plenty for the investigations as well." His voice dwindles as he realizes he's rambling on praises and he suddenly feels warm under the scrutiny of both his boss and his colleague.

He just didn't want anyone thinking you weren't doing anything by being humble. Especially since you're both so young.

Thankfully, it's Hotch who speaks up again after a beat.

"So what I'm hearing is that you're both satisfied with this arrangement?"

You both nod carefully and he smiles a small smile at that.

"Then we'll be carrying on with this pairing into the foreseeable future. Should there be any concerns about this arrangement, see to it that it goes through me. We can't afford to lose either of you." He says it with a finality that prompts both Spencer and you to leave with a nod, but the thought is instantly corrected when he speaks again.

"Oh and agent?" He looks only at you, but Spencer looks back as well out of instinct. "A private word, if you please."

Spencer sees you nod without a second thought and he takes it as his cue to hurriedly leave.

***

It hasn't been that long, Spencer argues with himself, since he left the unit chief's office. The blinds aren't drawn, he would know since he'd been looking at them periodically, so he also knows that nothing untoward is happening.

Yet something is bothering him about it.

From his position on his desk, he can see you and Hotch discussing something on his table very seriously, but he also sees how your eyes rarely leave the face of your superior. He can't quite see your expression due to the distance and the light, but he has this sinking feeling that it's a lot like the one from earlier.

He scoffs at the thought. If he wasn't thinking so rationally, he would've thought-

"Does she like Hotch?"

"Who likes Hotch?"

The new voice makes him whip his head back so fast to see Morgan with a confused face. Upon further examination, he sees him holding something that was definitely supposed to be flicked at him if he hadn't been caught so off guard.

He internally debates to voice his opinion, but he does anyway.

"Do you think that she likes Hotch?" He gestures with his eyes to their supervisor's office.

"You're asking me if I think 'little miss perfect' has a crush on a man that's hitched?" Derek echoes back with the use of your nickname. One that he coined as a playful jab at your no-frills behavior.

Spencer cringes when he hears it back though. He didn't ask this to get you in trouble, but it might come across that way now.

"Who has a crush on married man?" Elle joins in, and he only shrinks into his seat more.

"I'm not asking if she has a crush on him! I just want to know if she might like him and--what it is that she likes about him..."

The two exchange looks before looking back at him. Fully knowing that that's not the reason why he's asking, but they humor him anyway.

"Reid, what makes you think she likes him and not literally anyone else?"

"Well. there's her preference for prolonged eye-contact, a common indicator of interest for one. Her being in constant proximity to him, a sign that shows comfort in certain contexts, and then there's the amount of time they spend together."

The last one might be a bit of a reach, considering how you all work in the same area, but at this point he just wanted someone to tell him that he was either absolutely right, or crazy.

"Kid, that's crazy."

Duly noted.

"I'll say.” Elle chuckles out her response. “I haven't thought about it all, but those signs don't really mean anything. It just sounds like she has a habit of looking at whoever's talking to her." She notes, sharing her experience of being on the receiving end of your rather intense gaze.

His other friend adds onto that.

"And the whole closeness thing? You've seen her, she's like a computer with the way she works. She's a workaholic. And Hotch is another. It's just math, Reid."

Spencer furrows his eyes at the man's statement but before he can ask further, he sees you coming out of the office and staring at the small crowd that has now formed at his desk.

"Is something going on here?" You ask with tense brows. Eyes flickering to and fro.

He couldn't really think of something on the spot, but thankfully Derek had one at the ready. "Was just caught trying add my stack on to pretty boy's plate."

He sees you let out a small 'hm,' and you eventually turn your back to them to reach your desk.

He sighs in relief as he feels a firm pat on his back from Morgan.

"Next time, try looking at what she does when you're the one talking." He says before leaving to go to his own desk as well.

Spencer doesn't know what good that would do, especially now that he's worried one of his colleagues have caught wind of him liking you, but he at least takes note of it.

--------

He does not, in fact, take note of it until very later.

The team had been called to San Diego to deal with someone they had been calling, "The Tommy Killer." An unsub that had a preference for gluing his victims' eyes open.

As they were reviewing the scene in the jet, they had noticed a few stanzas of a literary work had been left behind at the scene.

"It's a ballad from the late 1600s. A Dialogue Betwixt Death and a Lady." Spencer had mentioned from where he stood.

"A 17th Century ballad?" Morgan had asked him incredulously from his seat, but it’s you who answers.

"One where a woman tries to bribe Death with all that she has in exchange for a little more time to live. Naturally, he doesn't allow it. Claiming that she was undeserving of an exception that even kings were denied of."

Spencer looks up from his own copy to see you still looking at your own from beside Hotch. With your brows furrowing in thought, he almost sees the actual gears in your brain turning.

"So what, are we looking at a literature professor of some kind?" Elle asks which immediately perks him right up.

"Well, actually anyone with access to the internet today. You should see what comes up when you type in the word, "Death" into a search engine." He laughed absentmindedly.

"Reid, no wonder you can't get a date."

Morgan's words made him frown, but he brushes it off.

Hotch, as previously discussed, then called on for the both of you to look deeper into the messages. To see if there was anything new that could be inferred.

He nods at him, and looks up. Expecting you to still be looking at Hotch as well.

Instead, your eyes meet his, but you quickly look back onto your file.

Reid thinks it's just a coincidence.

***

"Creepy, huh?" JJ had asked you two as she approached where transcripts of the written messages were tacked onto a board.

Spencer had been focusing so hard that he was caught off gaurd by her sudden appearance. Fully expecting the area to just be for you and him so he told her what first came to mind.

"Actually, conversations between Death and his victims was a fairly popular literary and artistic theme throughout the Renaissance."

Though perhaps the delivery wasn't as as good as he thought it was as JJ only stared back at him with an unreadable expression.

He thought it was interesting, really, but he supposed his slight stutter and breathy laugh at the end must have distracted her from his point.

He turned to look at you for help, but you too had been focusing on the messages and wouldn't be available to do that. So he just agreed with JJ’s sentiment, which seemed to be enough for her to leave.

He sighed out in relief.

"The lady never answers. Have you noticed it yet, Dr. Reid?" You turn to him as you ask.

He immediately refocuses on to the case and tries his best to reply after his prior blunder. "Oh uh-- Right, the dialogue in the ballad seems to be fractured. Well, it's more of a monologue than a dialogue seeing that there is no exchange of information."

A small smile graces your lips at that, and you gesture with a nod to go report your findings.

"So it is. Let's get going."

He follows you to where Hotch and Elle were discussing the sexual aspect of the crime and sees you take your place next to your mentor. The same position you were in when he was blowing out his birthday candles, as he also inserts himself into the discussion.

"Sir, we believe what the unsub has written at the scenes are most of the first three verses of the same ballad." You deliver, prompting your mentor to raise his brow at that.

"Most of?"

"Yeah, it's only one side of the conversation." Spencer adds. "There's no betwixt." He takes pride in your shared effort, which makes itself known by the smile that adorns his face.

Unfortunately, his satisfaction, isn't met with a positive reaction either as he sees Elle desperately trying not to make eye-contact, and your supervisor staring at him very pointedly.

He's thankful though at the little chuckle that you quickly try to hide behind a cough and a cover of your mouth to appear more professional. Quickly looking down at the ground.

He's happy that at least someone thought his joke was well-placed.

He continues to explain your theory about how the Lady in the narrative never answers, and that's enough for both Hotch and Elle to at least think about it.

Their attention is quickly stolen away however at an incoming call about a failed attempt nearby the precinct.

Quickly excusing themselves to get onto the scene as soon as possible, you see them call Gideon on their way out. Watching them as they leave the department doors.

But Spencer keeps his eyes on you as the thought just dawns on him.

You were the first one on the team to laugh at his jokes.

***

The more cases he works for the BAU, the more he realizes how much of his work isn't theoretical anymore. He feels it in the weariness in his eyes, the weight on his chest, and the shake of his hands.

Or maybe the shake is from the cold.

After all, he had dressed for the warm, California air. So now that he was in the cool, air-conditioned jet, he was seriously regretting not packing a sweater, at the very least.

He makes his way to the back of the aircraft after another successful investigation, and that's where sees you.

You had opted to shed your typically structured blazer on the seat beside you, leaving you in a softer blouse, both in color and form, that made everyone around you know that you were officially off duty.

It's a nice look on you, he thinks. A slight departure from your usually stern and hardened exterior. He wouldn't mind seeing a more relaxed version of you every once in a while.

A version of you that looked more your age and not constantly under the pressure of doing well.

He momentarily wonders if that's part of your mentor's influence as well.

He freezes a bit, as if catching himself in some depraved daydream, and takes a few steps back to return to the more vacant areas of the craft.

Before he can get any further though, you see him and beckon for him to come over with a tired wave of your hand.

"How's the flight treating you, Dr. Reid?" You ask, drowsiness lacing your tone as he sits on the seat opposite of you.

"Oh, it's the same as always, I guess. A little colder than usual, but that's to be expected. By the way, we’re actually lucky that we haven't experienced some semblance of turbulence yet on our flights, considering that the likelihood of it has increased by seventeen-percent in the last decade."

You laugh at that. "You really know just what to say, huh?"

He doesn't see it as funny as you do, so it seems. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you or--" "There's no need to apologize, sir. I find everything you have to say interesting, whether you mean it to or not."

He stays silent at that, suddenly nervous, and tries to make himself comfortable. He does so in the hopes that he can finally steel himself to ask you that question.

He talked to Elle earlier when they were waiting for the unsub's call. Asked her if she thought it was weird that he knew what he knew, and if it had anything to do with his inability to get a date. She had reasoned with him that it was because he didn't ask, but it couldn't be that simple, could it?

He mulls it over in his head before sighing. Opting to give up and just wait for a more opportune time.

Besides, jury’s still out that you could very well be pining over his boss.

The action, however, seems to remind you of something.

"Before I forget," You look into your baggage, rummaging around before finally finding what it was you were looking for.

You ask him to close his eyes, which he obediently does, and you place a thick rectangular box into his awaiting lap.

The sudden shift in weight causes his eyes to open, and he is certainly surprised to see what was on there.

"What is this?"

"It's your birthday. There wasn't a good time to give it to you, so might as well."

He takes the box into his hands and shakes it a little.

From the sound alone, or near lack thereof, there could be a multitude of things inside it. He looks at you questioningly and you only smile and gesture for him to open it.

He takes his time in doing so, and he doesn't know how or why, but he finds your reactions to his movements much more amusing than whatever could be in the box. As if you were more excited for him.

He finally peers into the now open box to see some sort of purple cloth. A ribbon of geometric designs cutting through its middle and he stares at it in wonder.

"It's a scarf!"

You smile at him, and he was thankful that the rest of the team were either asleep or just not paying attention as it allowed the both of you to savor the moment with at least some semblance of privacy.

"I've noticed that you had a tendency to wear a lot of layers. I wasn't sure if it was because you were cold, or you just liked dressing that way, so I made an educated guess and got you something practical."

And just like that, he's over the moon.

He immediately goes to put it on with a wide smile, paying no mind that it paired so badly with the short sleeves of his button up.

Not that he would know, nor care.

And just when he had been feeling cold earlier too! "Thank you so much. This means a lot to me, especially since you don't usually give gifts."

You shake your head. "I don't, but it's not everyday one spends their twenty-fourth at the BAU."

He continues to observe the cloth that now hung around him. Smoothing his hands over it as he does with an expression unreadable to you.

You worry a bit and hurriedly mention, "I'm sorry if it isn't your color. I see purple show up on your mismatched socks more than any other color, so I just assumed. If it's any consolation, purple is a great color to contrast the warmer hues in brown eyes?"

He flushes at your admission, but matches your urgency to set you straight. "No! Please, I actually really like it-- It's beautiful."

You breathe out a sigh in relief and nod slowly at that.

"Speaking of the color, did you know the origin of purple dye is actually quite fascinating?" His voice filled with enthusiasm. With his eyes, bright, and filled with a child-like fascination that makes your chest feel warm at the sight.

"Historically, purple dye was incredibly rare and valuable, which is why it became associated with royalty and nobility. The earliest known purple dye, known as Tyrian purple, was produced by the ancient Phoenicians around 1200 BC. It was derived from the secretions of a particular type of sea snail, the bolinus brandaris, found in the Mediterranean Sea."

He paused for a moment, wondering if he was boring you, but sees that you're still very much paying attention to him.

"The process to obtain this dye was incredibly labor-intensive and complex. It required thousands of these sea snails to produce just a small amount of dye. The snails would then be collected and left to decompose in large vats. After several days, a gland from the snail was extracted and crushed to produce a purple mucus. This mucus would then be exposed to sunlight, undergoing a chemical reaction that transformed it into the deep, rich purple dye we commonly associate with our modern day equivalent."

As he kept going, he suddenly remembered what Morgan had told him all those weeks ago.

"Next time, try looking at what she does when you're the one talking."

So he does just that.

He observes the way that your shoulders are more relaxed, how your eyes never stray from him, and how the small upturned curve of your lip makes itself known as you rest your cheek onto your propped up fist.

How he has your undivided attention and yet you don't even look the least bit bored of what he has to say. Only silently appreciating and subtly nodding along with the slow blink of your eyelids.

All clear signs of unguarded comfort, and or interest, in his presence.

Had you really been looking at him like that all this time?

Now the idea of you liking your boss seems silly. Especially when you’re looking at him the way he imagines himself looking at you.

"I did know that, actually, Dr. Reid. At the time, Tyrian purple wasn't only desirable for its rarity, people said it was also incredibly lightfast. That it was resistant to fading under the sun and the weather. Not to mention all that hard work that just to get a single gram of it. Then again, modern studies do claim that its lightfastness was, in fact, not an accurate feature as it's color diminished when it was exposed to light and UV radiation."

You laughed a little again, as if remembering some anecdote, and that sound was steadily becoming one of his favorite sounds. Following only after your speaking voice.

"Fortunately for you, doctor, I could only afford a synthetically purple-dyed scarf. Though that means that you won't ever have to worry about it fading under the sun."

Hands up in faux surrender, you give him a tired smile that he returns with one of his own.

A calming silence enveloped the both of you as you continue to bask in each other's presence.

At some point you doze off, draping your blazer on top of yourself to shield yourself from the cold, and that's when he starts considering Elle's words again.

"Do you ever ask anyone out?"

"No,"

"That's why you can't get a date."

He nods to himself, and reclines a little more into his seat. Snuggling into his new scarf that still has the faintest smell of you.

Maybe he will ask you out on a a date later.

_____________________________

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[shoyoist]

── 𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐎𝐅 𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 : hinata shoyo.

content: fem!reader. public sεx in the back booth of a cafe. dirty thoughts, teasing, fingering, a little overstimulation, shoyo is a liiittle mean but he's just so eager to have you!! mentioned pussy eating at the end.

— . ｡˚ ♡ you just can't wait to have shoyo's fingers in you. and neither can he.

one of the first things you notice about hinata when you meet up with him after his years away in brazil, is that his hands are big.

he'd already been growing taller and filling out when he left — but that was nearly three years ago, and seeing him for the first time after so long felt like a dream — because despite looking the same, he also looked just that different. it wasn't just his hands, really — he was big. 

his neck was thicker, the expanse between his shoulder and neck offering much more space for your arms than it used to, as you wrapped them around his neck in a hug. his arms, his chest, his stomach, as they press against yours in the embrace, they feel bigger, more muscular than you remembered.

but what you notice the most, what would be a subtle change compared to everything else — is that his hands are so big. maybe because you hadn't seen his hands properly in any of the pictures he'd sent you, but it was the most surprising change about him.

his fingers that just used to be long and lithe, are now thicker — knuckles tough and edges calloused, the backs of them rosy and tanned and the palms hard and smooth, pink at the rounder points.

and as he holds your hands in his, gives you a smile that pours love and longing and happiness and tender adoration into you as he tells you, “hi, baby. i missed you.” — all you can think about is that you want your pussy stuffed with those fingers of his.

and eventually — because he is after all, your beloved shoyo that would do anything for you — you tell him.

hand in hand, walking the distance from your place to the café you used to frequent together, you tell him that his hands are so nice. 

his fingers are so thick (“look! see how big they are compared to mine?”) and then while you're talking to each other over cups of coffee, you finally tell him — albeit slyly and mostly as a tease, you admit that you want his fingers in your cunt.

what you don't expect is for him to immediately oblige.

you're sitting together at the very last booth of the small, cozy little cafe, away from all the windows and concealed from clear view — and you'd thought it'd be cute to fluster him with a dirty little comment, and get him hooked for when you both get home.

but when you tell him, “they'd feel so nice curling deep into my pussy, don't you think?” hinata stares at you for only a few seconds — before he has you pressed against the back of the booth, one legged hooked over his knees and the other dangling over the edge of the seat as he forces your legs open.

“mhm,” he giggles at your wide eyed, stunned expression, wrapping a muscled arm around you and adjusting your position so effortlessly, as his other hand slides past the waistband of your skirt to palm at your clothed cunt. “let's see how it feels, then. oh — pretty pussy's wet already, huh? missed me much?”

you're too dazed by the contact and the delicious feel of his touch on your clit to form words and tell him yes, yes yes you missed him so fucking much, more than he knows — but you think you missed him more than even you know.

his eyes are brighter than you remember as well, you see as you blink up to meet his gaze— 

his body language, his confidence, it's so different compared to how he was before.

you'd only gotten together in your third year of highschool, and really you'd only fucked once before he left for brazil — but you'd loved him long enough to know.

this isn't the same hinata that you kissed good-bye at that train station years ago.

correction: he is the same — but he's also more. 

you stare, stars in your eyes — and he gives you a handsome, rogueish grin as he slips two digits under your panties and into the slick mess of your hole, like he knows every single thing he's doing to you right now.

to your body, to your mind, to your soul.

it's overwhelming enough, to have the love of your life return home to you after more than two years of being so, so far away from you.

overwhelming enough to see that he has changed so very much, to see that suddenly the sunny, sweet boy you'd fallen in love with has become a fire, a hot searing flame that's ready to sweep you off your feet and singe you, burn you with his kisses and his touch.

but right now, you can't even think clearly about it all — because fuck, fuck, fuck, he's sliding his fingers into you, and it feels even better than you thought it would.

“sh—shoyo,” you whimper, cheek pressed to his chest as he shields your body with his, just in case. “wait, wait — didn't mean right now, i—”

“hush,” he hums into your ear, thumb gliding up to find your clit, and when he presses into the sensitive bud, you can only obey and hush — pressing your lips shut tight to prevent the gasp of pleasure that builds in your throat from getting away.

the café had been pretty quiet and peaceful when you'd both walked inside, and even as you ordered from the counter and brought your trays to the back booth — but suddenly, you're so afraid that people might come and see. afraid that a waiter might come over and see.

“sho—” you try, but he shushes you again, and you feel so hot, it's all so sudden you can't think.

“couldn't wait, sunshine, 'm sorry.” he mumbles into your hair, pulling you even closer, and you feel a little cramped as he tugs your legs even further apart, fingers sliding knuckle-deep into you. “was thinking things the whole time, you're so gorgeous now, can't wait when you're so hot.”

“i—” you whimper again, grabbing his shirt and curling it in your fist. “me too, shoyo, me too.” there's an impatience in the both of you that was hardly satiable when kept apart from eachother, but now, with the two of you like this, there's no way to keep it at bay.

the stretch of his fingers in your cunt is impossible. so much compared to your own fingers, so hot and hungry compared to the toys you use (ones he'd bought and sent home to you during his time in brazil).

he fucks his digits into you like he's been dying to do this to you, like he's desperate to hear those pretty sounds you make in his ear again, like he's been thirsting to make you cum like this forever.

you're going to hit your orgasm so quick, you can already feel it.

you're going to cum slumped in the back booth of this little café, that you'd visited so long ago on your first date with hinata. this little café where you'd first kissed him. this little café where you'd had a valentine's day brunch with him, just two months before he left.

“shoyo,” you can't help the moan that slips out, pussy only clenching around harder his digits when you see the way his eyes cloud with lust upon hearing your voice. “shoyo, shoyo — gonna cum.”

you hope nobody hears you — and you hope that if they did, they'll stay the fuck away and mind their own business, and let hinata take care of you.

you need it. he's so warm, so hot, and he's fucking you so good with just his fingers — thumb rolling your clit just fucking right while he curls his fingers into your velvet walls, giggling under his breath when your pussy squelches messily each time. 

“that's right, baby,” he coos, kissing your hair. “cum for me. nice and hard, mkay? else we might hafta try again.”

his voice cracks so well at just the right moment as he says it — and you don't know if it's the zap of need that courses through you at the sound of his voice breaking, or if it's just the bliss he's giving you with his fingers that makes you cum instantly, but you do.

your pussy wraps around his fingers so tight — your own hand flying up to clamp over your mouth and muffle your cry, as your body finally unfreezes and you crash into your high.

knees knocking together and squeezing hinata's arm between your legs, you fall lax against the leather seating of the booth — cushioned by his body because he still has his other arm secured around you — and you cum. “fuck, shoyo.”

“that's good,” hinata encourages, his whisper hot in the shell of your ear. “fuck, so messy. so messy, baby, how do we clean you up?”

you can't help it — and he's making it worse, curling his fingers in, knuckles digging into your walls as he tries to go even deeper, never relieving the pressure he's out on your clit, god— “shoyo, fuck, fuck.” you’re afraid you might shatter into a million pieces right there on the damn seat. you haven’t had someone else touch you in a long time, and getting an orgasm ripped from you like this is almost too much. “sho—shoyo, please.”

“please, what?” he giggles, still unrelenting, like he’s missed having you like this, like he really can’t be a good boy and wait until you get back home before he eats you up and makes you his girl all over again, for the first time in years.

“not here,” you say breathlessly, gulping down the cry of pleasure that springs up your throat when he lets go of your clit for a moment, only to flick his thumb at the ravenous bud again. “not here, please. i can’t—”

“can’t what?” he asks, almost impatient. he bites at your ear, and you feel so fucking hot, so dizzy with pleasure, but you can’t. not in the back booth of a god damn café, where you could just be caught with MSbY’s newest outside hitter fitting his fingers into your starving little cunt.

you grab his wrist and tug, giving him the most serious look you can with all the stars in your eyes. “can’t be like this, shoyo. not here. please? wanna go home. want you in me. at home.”

his lips pull downwards into a disappointed pout, but he only presses his body closer to you, hot and heavy, his weight so new on you. “you promise t’ let me fuck you like this in your bed then?”

the fact that he can make you blush harder with a few words even as he’s got your pussy full of his fingers is astounding, really. but you feel your face heat up as you nod, telling him you promise. you need it more than him. you need him so, so fucking bad.

with a delighted laugh, shoyo pulls away, almost too quickly and you’re forced to stifle the needy whine you want to let out because you know he’ll be on you again in no time if you act like that. he pops his fingers into his mouth, sucking on your slick, eyes dulling with lust as he gets a taste of you. “let’s go, then. we can have this date later.”

“wh—what about our food?” you can’t even ask before he’s getting up and pulling you to your feet. he gives you a quick kiss, and your eyes widen when you taste yourself on him. god, it’s almost embarrassing.

“i’ll pay for it now, we’ll tell them we’re coming back in a bit.” he grins at you, taking you by the waist and pulling you up against him. “i can think of something else i’d like to eat right now.”

by the glint in his eyes and the lingering taste in your mouth, you know exactly what he means the instant he says it. and you can’t help but blush again. god, he’s such a fucking charmer. “mm, alright. let’s go then.”

“that’s my girl.”

[empresskylo]

Oooo could u write about ghost taking his mask of infront of the boys and the reader burst into the room late and is like who tf are you 😭😭😭

A slew of identical masks lay on the table before the circle of men. Ghost reached up and nonchalantly removed his current face covering, exposing his face like it was nothing. Price was the only one who didn't seem surprised to see Ghost's exposed face. "Nice to see you again, Simon."

At his words, you burst in through the door, stumbling over to the table, pulling your utility vest around your body, and tightening it. "Sorry I'm late," you mumbled as you approached. The men gave you a quick nod before turning back to listen to Price. "If you're in, take a mask... If you're not... Don't."

You looked around and spotted a dirty blonde across the table from you, staring you down. Your eyes widened, not recognizing the figure, You leaned into Soap. "Who the fuck is that?" you asked, gesturing your shoulder towards the mysterious man who clearly heard you--you weren't exactly talking quietly.

A big grin formed on Soap's face. He ignored you, reaching for one of the masks and sliding it on over his head. You heard a few men beside you chuckle, clearly thinking whatever you said was funny.

You rolled your eyes before grabbing your own mask. Before you raised it, you froze, watching the man grab one himself and slide it on. Wait. That can't be... "Ghost?" You must have looked awestruck.

Ghost adjusted his mask and looked directly at you, his eyebrows raising. Ironically, with the mask covering most of the man's face, only then could you tell it was Ghost. The blonde hair and attractive face threw you off; the idea that the man across from you could be Ghost didn't even cross your mind. Now with his mask back on, his looming stance and expressive eyes were a dead giveaway.

"Shit, Ghost. I didn't know you were hot." You hadn't even fully realized you said that out loud until Soap and Gaz snickered beside you. You quickly pulled the mask on to hide your embarrassment.

"I tried to tell ya," Ghost grumbled, referring back to the time he insisted he was good-looking to both you and Soap. You were thankful your face was now covered because you were sure you were sweating.

"Let's keep it together," Price said to the table, looking between you and Ghost, a small smirk on his lips. Apparently, everyone found amusement in your humiliation.

As the group moved to head out, you felt Ghost and Soap match your stride. "If it makes you feel any better, I couldn't believe Ghost wasn't ugly as shit under there either," Soap said down to you.

"Thanks, guys," Ghost said, a hint of teasing in his voice.

"What can we say? We expected the face to match the personality." You stifled a laugh at Soap's words, Ghost shoving him hard in the shoulder, making him stumble.

Your eyes flicked back to Ghost, still amazing at how ethereal he looked in a much thinner and exposing mask. You could see his blonde eyelashes against the black of his face paint. "Gonna be hard to take orders from you now, Lt. Knowing you look like that n' all," you stuttered, half-jokingly.

You could hear the pained sigh in Ghost's breath, clearly losing his patience as you and Soap giggled like school girls.

[chuluoyi]

𝒔𝒂𝒚 𝒏𝒐 !

- gojo satoru x reader

valentine's is around the corner and word has it that you're going on a date with geto...? no way! gojo is going to make sure that you're saying no! ever wonder how gojo finally gets you to become his? be prepared for a confession of a lifetime!

genre/warnings. crack, semi-failed love confession (it's gojo, what do you expect?), poor geto, and of course, fluff !!

notes. i genuinely love writing this :') loser gojo has always have a soft spot in my heart *sighs* i'd recommend listening to beautiful & because of you - beast (highlight) for this !!

a part of gojo's love entries and valentine's special !

Satoru doesn't really pay attention to holidays. To him, it's all the same—he can turn everyday into a holiday if he wanted to.

However, Valentine's Day is an exception. He knows it and is somewhat excited even. Why, you ask? Because this is the moment he has chosen. He's going to make you his on that very day.

He had everything planned out to perfection: skylit rooftop, bouquet of roses, eloquent speech (at least, he thought so). He was going to charm the pants out of you and it'd be a smooth-sailing event, he was sure of it!

At least until he heard that life-shattering gossip—

"I saw Geto-san asking her out for the 14th just now!"

"What?" he snapped his head in Haibara's direction, who was eagerly sharing with him and the others what he had allegedly heard, his eyes practically sparkling with excitement.

"Ehh, not bad," Shoko mused with a hint of amusement, casting a curious look his way. It was obvious she was enjoying this.

Nanami let out a thoughtful hum. "That's quite a surprise. I didn't think they'll go that fast."

"But how?!" Satoru suddenly exploded, grabbing Haibara by the collar. "How did that slimy bangs go from saying nothing to asking her out?!"

"O-oh Gojo-san! Don't squish me, please!"

And from then onwards, his focus was set: preventing you from falling into Suguru's grimy hands. Absolutely no way! He was so close already. He was on the cusp of winning your heart, and he knew it!

Now, you laughed at his jokes, you didn't ignore him as much, and you even asked him if he was okay after his recent mission! That was huge progress, even Satoru knew as much. And no, even if it was Suguru, he refused to hand you over to him.

On the 14th, you were going to be his... even if it cost him everything!

Gojo Satoru is annoying. You supposed you knew that already, but over these past few days, his ability to get on your nerves somehow had ascended to a wholly new level.

"I'm telling you, you should go with me! I'm going to take you somewhere amazing!" he practically demanded right up in your space, prompting you to let out a long-drawn sigh.

By all means, his attempts to woo you were all lame. He didn't know the first thing about being humble, and logically, you should have been more inclined to push him away.

‘Should’ being the operative word, because, somehow, over the past few weeks, you've started to see his antics as not just bearable but even endearing in a way. No one had ever pursued you with such relentless zeal before him, and it became increasingly difficult to overlook the way your heart fluttered in response to his (occasionally dubious) attempts to win you over.

So, right now, it really wasn't because you were playing hard to get. "Gojo, I've told you already. I can't on that day, I've already got plans," you sighed, exasperated.

He shot you a glance, his expression shifting into a brazenly raised eyebrow. "With Suguru?"

"How do you—"

"Tell him no," Satoru pressed, scowling. "Tell him I asked you first."

"In fact, he asked first—"

“Just say no!”

“No!”

"You're seriously going on a date with him?" he questioned, almost in disbelief. "And what, you're going to confess to him too?"

His tone didn't sit well with you, causing your irritation to rise. You frowned and retorted boldly, "And if I do? It's not like you can do anything about it anyway."

Wait, that actually hurts. Satoru was now irked too. Hadn't he shown enough for you to understand just how much of a big deal it was for him? Didn't you know he actually likes you so much that it made him toss and turn on some nights?

(No, you didn't really know. He just made himself look stupid most of the time. You were not that impressed.)

"As a matter of fact, I can," he began, expression turning into a slight sneer. "I can and I will if you still insist on going with him."

"Wha?"

"I'm going to crash your party so hard, you'll wish you hadn't gone behind my back. The audacity he has, trying to steal my girl!"

"You sound like a creep," you couldn't help blurting out, wide-eyed. "And I'm not your girl—"

"You—are quite heartless." His gaze on you behind that glasses hardened, and you were suddenly taken aback by how upset he looked. "I'm giving you my all—I think about you all day and night I think it's actually making me crazy!"

You stared at him, genuinely dumbfounded this time, realizing that somehow or another now, he was pouring his emotions out.

"Nothing I say will make sense to you, but whatever—" he exhaled sharply in frustration. "It's always you—in my mind. Compared to anyone else now, you're the prettiest. And if you were to ask me to pull a Blue on Ichiji right now, I'd probably do it! You see now—what you have done to me?"

"Ichiji? Gojo—!"

"You might think I did all of this for your attention, and yes, you’re right! That's how much you've messed with my head!"

. . .

Oh, now he had really gone and done it, hadn't he? He had laid it all bare, every last bit of it—the chaotic heap stacking up as his botched confession. And there were no roses, no rooftop, and none of the grandeur he had envisioned. This was so not how he wanted it to go at all.

Satoru grimaced, suddenly regretting this turn of events. He had seen it coming already—you calling him a total weirdo and then leaving him in the dust. Just the thought was enough to make his heart squeeze. Wanting to escape before it became a reality, he abruptly turned on his heel and walked away from you.

He barely made it a few steps away before he felt a firm tug on his arm.

"Wait! Gojo!"

You grabbed his arm tightly, forcing him to turn towards you. Satoru stubbornly refused to meet your gaze, his lips pressed into a massive pout. Yet, beyond that display of defiance, you could discern a hint of heartbreak splashed across his face, and it made your stomach churn.

Always trying to make you look at him. Always trying to get you to smile through his lame jokes. Making himself stupid on purpose. Frustrated when his feelings went unnoticed… All Gojo Satoru did thus far finally added up.

So it's true... he likes me this much...?

In that moment, warmth flooded through you. This idiot. Everyone said he was no good, but your heart couldn't help but leap, and a flurry of butterflies seemed to dance in your stomach.

In this instant, everything seemed to fall into place. Any doubt you might have melted away, leaving only a sense of certainty about your feelings. Everything just feels absolutely right.

"I'm not going on a date with Geto, you know."

"Huh?" Upon hearing that, he swiveled to face you, his gaze intensively searching your face for further explanation.

With a huff, you elaborated, "It's for my Grade One promotion mission. Geto-san asked to join me for it."

"But why? He doesn't need to—"

"He wants to tag along to absorb more cursed spirits, you see..."

"Oh, amassing new little friends, I see," Satoru quipped, face scrunching up distastefully.

His mood seems better now, you noted. You exhaled, your heart suddenly felt like it was pounding louder. "So, you've got the wrong idea. It sucks but my Valentine's day is going to be spent on a mission."

A beat passed by before he finally spoke again, still sheepish and avoiding eye contact. "I'm coming with you too, for that... mission or whatever."

You pressed your lips together, trying to ignore the warmth spreading across your face. "And?"

"And... huh?"

"That's all? Nothing else you want to add?"

And suddenly his eyes sparkled back to life. Beyond those ridiculous round glasses, his bright, yet steadfast eyes met yours with such vibrant shine it made your chest thump so hard and face flush with matching intensity.

Silly, silly boy... liking me so much that he turns stupid.

"Actually, I've got plenty more to say!"

With an indignant snort, you released his arm. "Well, I'm waiting. Because what you just said before has to be the most underwhelming confession I've ever heard."

"Wha? Hey! That wasn't my confession! Just you wait, I'll do it over, and this time, I'll make you swoon so hard you'll forget how Suguru's face looks like!"

And on the night of February 14, he truly surpassed himself once again in making a terrible confession, and yet it still signified the day you truly became his—the beginning of your life together, which along the way, would be filled with more shenanigans, endless laughter and of course, love.

Epilogue

"Haibara, I really thought you're the most sensible here! I can't believe you!"

Suguru massaged his temples with utter grievance. So this was the cause of his headache and constant death stares Satoru gave him these past few days—the three people gathering in front of him!

"I've told you already, Nanami—Gojo is really going through with it," Shoko cackled with utter satisfaction. "Now, pay up."

"Ieiri-san... sigh— from now on, I'm not participating in your bets anymore."

Haibara, who went with Shoko's suggestion to incite this, sheepishly laughed. "Ehe, Geto-san, all that ends well is well though, no?"

"Satoru was really about to skin me alive! Ugh, and you almost ruined my date too..."

"Eh? Date?" All three sets of eyes suddenly fixed on him in utter astonishment. "Who?"

-> continue to 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒊 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 (with geto suguru—soon!)

[laroserie]

— Various x-men characters dating a non-mutant!reader

— characters ; Scott Summers, Peter Maximoff, Kurt Wagner, Hank McCoy

— version with others characters ; not out yet

— warning ; no particular tw. talk about self estimee and doubt. (as always author has not started reading the comics and their knowledge come from the different xmen cartoon and my hazy memories of the film <3) ( also no cartoon gif for peter because i couldn't find any ... is he even in any of the xmen cartoons ), author decided that Peter has self-confidence issues, also Peter part kinda slide tracked and has more about Peter and his struggle than him dating reader whose a human ... sorry! (his part is also a bit short ...)

— Scott Summers

Scott has no particular qualm around you being a regular human, he loves you just as you are, and nothing can change that. That said, Scott cannot help himself but be, patronising at time. In his mind, you being a human just make you be at risks, you can't defend yourself if you get attacked, by others humans or mutants. He doesn't view you as weak, but, he know how fleeting life is. He isn't the greatest at expressing his feelings, and notably his worry for you.

He will also be more protective than if he was with a mutant. And it show in him being at first very against you befriending any others x-men, he very much care for most of them and he loves you very much, but he doesn't want to have those two part of his life mix up. He doesn't want you to get in dangers because of his job, but he also doesn't want you to possibly endanger one of his mission, he wasn't capable of choosing between you and one of his mission. Not to say, you are as or more important than his mission, but he was responsibilities as a X-Men and he cannot forget about them. But that said, with enough asking and pleading, making him crack and let you meet his friends and fellow X-Men.

Talking about you interacting with mutants, Scott will not let any remarks about you - well not being one - slide. He knows and understand why his friends may feel wary of humans, he get it, but you are different. You are quite literally dating him - a mutant, it couldn't make any sense for you to be against them. Scott may let it slide the first time actually, but anymore than that, and he's making them do extra session in danger room - or they aren't allowed in it, depending on who.

In general, there isn't that much of a different between how he treat his mutant or non-mutant partner, he just will be more protective and worried for them. He doesn't feel particularly insecure in your relationship - because of his mutation or your lack of mutation.

Again, he doesn't have any problems with you not being a mutant - he more so has problem being a mutant, not in general of course, but in your relationship yes. Peter can't really give an answer as to why, but if he had to guess it was probably due to this father, and the fact that he didn't want to do anything like his father did, to you. The worst is, he know damn well he isn't anything like him but he can't help but think that way.

He feels like he's going to mess your relationship up, because of what he is. He try to play it off as if it was nothing, but it's a feeling that lingers in the back of his mind often. He never truly wished to be a regular human before, and he still doesn't, but he just want your relationship to be more normal. Which isn't really possible. Peter knows that, he also knows that you don't care, about that kind of thing.

He can mask his doubts and awful self-confidence with his quirky attitude, he can fool most people pretty easily - expect you. At some point, it get to point, where you have to sit down with Peter and try to have a conversation about it, at first he will just act dumb and pretend he doesn't get what you are talking about, but his facade cracks relatively fast.

You listen, his fears and doubts. You comfort him, and assure him, that everything is fine, you reassure him that weither your relationship is 'normal' or not it's the last of your problem. You love him, he loves you and that all that matter in your eyes.

Now, Kurt could be the one that has the most difficulty dating someone that is not a mutant. He could be scared to hurt you more than anything. He's stressing out about doing or saying the worst thing, that will just break everything. One of the reason why he is friend, with his friends is because they share at least one thing - they can all relate on one crucial part of their identity - them being mutant, it's one thing that link them all together and make it at least a little bit easier to connect. You lacking that, make it hard for him. He still loves you all the same of course, but he feels like not being able to share something so crucial is sad.

So he desperately try to make it up in some way, he looks everything he can about your interests to be able to share that with you, everytime you share something about your interests Kurt will make mental note of it. And he will share a lot about what interest him in return. If you speak an another language that he doesn't know, he'll try to learn it, after all what is better than learning the language of your lover! Kurt can even teach you some german if you want to!

He wants something to link the two of you together even more. It's something he heavily crave. To be linked to you, by more than just, your love for each others.

Kurt may feel insecure at time, that you may leave him for well, a regular human, that isn't blue, has five fingers on each hands - he will try to keep it to himself, but he isn't really good at that. His insecurity just overflow and he end up offhandedly asking you while you are hanging out, if you could prefer to be dating a human rather than him. Obviously, you tell him that you don't, and ask where did this idea came from. He feels reluctant to admit as to why he asked. He feels, ashamed ? After seeing your reaction, he feels a bit silly, and even more when you comfort him and tell him that you very much prefer and could always choose to date him more than anyone else just because they are human.

On a more happy note Kurt loves seeing how amazed you are by his mutation, you never really were around mutants before - there isn't actually a ton of opportunity to meet mutants and to know that they are mutants, even if antis mutant politicians like to make people believe the contrary - most humans he met, weren't exactly thrilled by his, but you are the exactly opposite. Even after being together for a while and getting used to his mutation, there is still this curiosity and shine in your eyes when he teleport for example.

He is by far, the most chill about your relationship and you not being a mutant while he is. Well, that is if we are talking about Hank, after he accepted his entire mutation and all, which we are, Hank pre-self acceptance is different deal.

But once, Hank is settled as a scientific and has member of the X-Men, and has fully accepted his mutation, he doesn't personally really care. But sadly, a lot of people seemingly do and that's one thing that annoy him. The worst is it come from both fellow mutants, even his friends and colleagues sometime! And from regular humans. He doesn't really get why people care about him dating a non-mutant or you dating him - a mutant.

He personally try to not let it get to him, and if it does he will do everything but make you suffer because of it. It most often will result in him shutting himself in his lab for a bit of time, to calm down.

And like others, he feels like he needs to protect you because, you are so ... weak in his eyes, not in a bad way of course ! But in comparison to him you are so small and fragile. This cause Hank to usually like putting his arms around you, around you waist or on your back, to show you that he is there, and to show people around that you are his, and that they shouldn't try to hurt you in anyway.