#I have no idea how to do that tho so I just used a brush and tried to make it work

[mizzical]

i miss you teruko i miss drawing you i miss you i miss you i miss you i miss you love love...

[neon1010]

Adding to the 'Nanako is a magical girl now' collectionnnnn

[keii]

JoRo WIP. Their faces are so cute— also feet details.

[soupforstars]

I find it genuinely hilarious how many signs there were pointing to us being a system from ages ago... As the host whos been here the longest I'm surprised I didn't look into it sooner, like I SERIOUSLY wondered on MORE THAN TWO SEPERATE OCCASIONS as a teen whether I had DID, but brushed it off both times because I thought "oh I'm not traumatised enough" and "you have to experience blackouts and time jumps and I haven't so I can't" (spoiler alert, I definitely was incredibly traumatised and I definitley have had blackouts before but even then I didn't know that those weren't fully necessary for a diagnosis).

And this is without getting into "my" love of any media that involved characters with alter egos, "multiple personalities", etc. Like I LOVED the Jekyll and Hyde musical when I found it, my favourite Total Drama character was Mike (the one with DID but like. when people still knew it as MPD. also he wasnt the best rep lol), I loved the Markiplier and Jacksepticeye egos, for a short time I was into Sander Sides, I had full on "characters" that were "aspects of my personality" but also next to them was just. My actual sona? Completely seperate from them, which actually represented me?

I just really thought I liked media with alternate egos/personalities but methinks the call was coming from inside the house sdjshsnsjsbdjdb

[sivyera]

nsfw headcanons and kinks of harry potter characters

ft. harry, ron, cedric, fred, george, draco, blaise, theodore, tom, hermione, pansy

a/n: well there is obviously a lot of SMUT, also it's a female reader

༺☆༻

⤷ Harry - lingerie

harry for sure loves when you wear some nice pair of lingerie, he finds it so hot when the nice lace hugs your body so perfectly. every time when he's out, he looks for some new pair of lingerie that he would buy you. oh yeah he buys you every single pair but one time, you surprised him on his b-day with red pair of lingerie (like gryffindor theme lingerie) and he was hard within seconds.

"oh- oh my fucking god, you look amazing sweetheart. do a spin for me please- slowly, i wanna see how pretty you look in this" harry hummed while he sat on his bed with you slowly turning in front of him. he could feel his hard dick pressing against his pants, pre-cum already making his boxers dirty. he brushed his hand over his erection before he hummed again. "come closer baby, i wanna touch you..."

⤷ Ron - body worship

ron was very unexperienced at the start, you were basically his first everything, first girlfriend, first kiss, first lover. so when was the first time you two had sex, he was just so mesmerized by your whole body that he had to watch himself for not cumming into his pants just from the sight of your naked body. you are gorgeous in his eyes, more than that! from that time it kinda sticked with him, every time you two have sex now, he has to worship you before anything, he wants you to know how beautiful you are on his eyes...

you could feel ron's hands tracing soft patterns over your sides while his eyes were glued to your boobs. "bloody helly, baby you are so beautiful.. " he mumbled while he moved his big palms over your boobs, squeezing them lightly. "i can't belive how lucky i'm to have you, now let me make you feel good." he added before he took off your panties and kissed his way down to your pretty cunt.

⤷ Cedric - praise kink

cedric is overall very vocal when you two have sex, he either growls, hums, groans, breaths heavily or he's mumbling praises to you. he really cannot help himself when he sees you all spread under him; your legs wrapped around him, your hands scratching his back while he holds your hips and is thrusting into you, mercilessly. he always makes sure that you can hear him properly so he usually leans closer to you, brushing his lips over your ear in soft kisses, whispering praise right into your ear.

"you're doing so good princess, taking all of me like this..." he whispers into your ear, his hips are crushing against yours, his dick hitting every right spot while you're a moaning mess under him. "you feel so good, i can't get enough of you, my sweet girl.." he groans again into your ear while his tempo isn't slowing down.

⤷ Fred - public sex

fred is thrilled with the idea of getting caught, it's the adrenaline and the possessivness from him screaming, i mean he wants people to know that you're his, that you chose him and that only HE makes you feel this good. so you two usually have sex somewhere around hogwarts. empty classroom, broom closet, empty gryffindor common room, bathroom, you name it.

"shh baby, be quiet you don't want anybody to catch us, do you?" he smirks while he has you seated on a desk in empty potion class. both of you are skipping class so it's pretty quiet outside on the hallways, anyone who will walk past can hear you. he doesn't care how loud you are because he doesn't care if you two get caught, he just wants to tease you. even tho you try to be quiet, you can't help yourself and moan again. "naughty girl yeah, let everybody know how good i make you feel..."

⤷ George - orgasm denial

george loves the face you make when he pushes you to the edge but just seconds before you're about to cum, he slows down his moves or stops completely, kissing your skin instead. he also loves teasing you but the way you get all pouty and squeeze around him when he denies you your orgasm is just something he can never get tired of. but eventually he'll let you cum and it's always the best orgasm ever.

he was thrusting into you in the perfect rhythm when you felt the familiar knot forming inside your belly, but just when the knot was about to release, he stopped. instead he immediately pressed his lips against your chest, kissing you around your boobs. "i know baby, i know... i'll give you what you want but god- when you squeeze around me like this, i can't help myself."

⤷ Draco - daddy kink

draco has big daddy issues so many of you could say that he'd hate being called daddy but he actually loves it. it makes him feel good, powerful and in control which he never was while being back home so... when you started calling him like this, he didn't let you stop. he sees you as his blessing and he wants to protect you with everything he has, like a good daddy should protect his precious baby.

"you're such a good girl for daddy, princess..." draco huffed while he was buried deep inside you. his hands were pressing your knees to your chest which made you ass go little up, letting him hit the perfect spot inside you. "yes, tell me who's your daddy? mhmf-..." he continues while you're mumbling under him. he loves when those sweet words leave your pretty mouth, it almost always makes him cum in seconds.

⤷ Blaise - bondage

blaise loves seeing how your flesh presses under the bondage, making your thighs and boobs look even more soft and squishy than they already are. he either bondages your whole body or only ankles and wrists so you can't move, but he loves both equaly. he always takes his time when he's wrapping the rope around your body but he also always makes sure that everything he does is comfortable to you, it could be dangerous for you and he doesn't wanna hurt you.

"you feelin' good, babe?" he speaks while his long fingers are brushing over your inner thighs, his eyes basically glued to the plush of them. he could feel his hard dick twitching in his boxers, leaving a small wet mark over the fabric so he quickly strokes himself before he continues. "you look so pretty like this, all just for me... take a deep breath, babe, just like this..."

⤷ Theodore - deep throat

there is nothing more theo loves more than when you are on your knees, your glassy looking up at him with tears falling down your cheeks while he hears how you are gagging on his dick. he doesn't care if you have good or bad gagging reflex, you can take it for him. if it's very serious and you just have to take a quick pause, he'll let you rest for like 30s before pushing you down on his dick again, this time little deeper than before. and when you let him cum into your mouth, you got yourself "bonus" orgasm.

"ngh- fuck baby-... your tongue feels so good around me, mhmm..." he hums while his head falls down between his shoulder blades with his fingers being tangled in your hair, pushing your head lower on his dick. his groans and moans are non-stopping while he can feel himself getting closer and closer. when he looks down at you and sees your pretty, bambi eyes already staring at him, he can feel himself cum. "oh dio-... now swallow for me, amore."

⤷ Tom - choking

choking makes feel tom in control, in control of your life while he brings you the best pleasure of your life. he can feel your pulse point under his thumb while you make this incredibly fuckable face, it drives him wild and incredibly horny. he can feel your heartbeat while he also makes you feel so good, it makes him feel powerful and he's hungry for power, any kind of power. but he'd never let you pass out, that's a big no for him.

he thrusted inside and out of you, mercilessly, while he had his hand firmly wrapped around you neck, perfectly feeling how was your heart beating through your pulse point. "oh are you about to cum? yeah, cum for me, my love..." he growled when his grip got tighter, making your eyes close in pleasure. you were still moaning under him which made him go little faster. with all of this, he came as well.

⤷ Hermione - thigh riding

hermione loves when she can multitask, it's somehow comforting to her. so one time when you found her in the library, learning for some up coming test, writing into her books; you sat on her thigh, wanting to distract her, she was hooked. she loved the feeling of you on her thigh, pleasuring yourself while she could write some notes into her textbook. from that time, she loved it and she often pulls you onto her lap with her thigh in perfect position for your pussy.

she wrote the last words into her book before her hands grabbed your hips, making you move faster, making your pussy spread over her thigh. "mhm you feel good like this? yes, you do? oh i know... come on, little faster." she mumbled into your ear, kissing you all the way down to your neck while her nails dug into your soft hips making you moan.

⤷ Pansy - face-sitting

pansy is literally obsessed with your pussy and all the noises you make when her tongue is buried deep inside you. she loves to explore all your folds because every time her tongue presses against a new spot, you squeeze your thighs around her head which makes her rub her thighs against each other. her eyes are glued on you the whole time while she presses her nose against your clit.

"mhmh come on-..." she quickly mumbles before she pushes your hips more onto her mouth while her tongue pushes deep inside you. her hands helped your hips slowly move back and forth while her tongue was licking each of your folds, swallowing each of your juice that she got on her tongue. your moans filled her ears and she could see you were getting closer which made her tongue work even faster.

[nereidprinc3ss]

do you believe me now? | 4

in which spencer reid and inexperienced fem!reader are interrupted at the most inopportune of times. he calls you on the first night of his case. dirty talk turns into a hard conversation. we get a glimpse into spencer's past, and we finally learn why he's so hesitant to sleep with you.

series masterlist

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: dirty talk, phone sex/mutual masturbation, softdom!spence, obligatory he talks u through it, lots of graphic discussions of sex, established relationship, angst (sorrryyy!) a/n: so remember how i said you'd need the bonus chapter to fully appreciate/understand this part? i was wrong!! it will come in handy probably in the next part tho:) also idk how these parts keep getting so long im sorry! anyway, i love you all so bad. thank you for bearing w/ my craziness. PLEASE let me know your thoughts on this part!! i adore hearing from you!! kisses

(also special thank you to @fliesforeyes who convinced me phone sex w/ spence could be done!! i will link his phone sex blurb here :)) thank u binx!!

“Three million six hundred eighty four thousand three hundred thirty two times fourteen million seven hundred sixty one thousand nine hundred seventy one.”

You’ve lost count of how many stupid math questions you’ve asked your human calculator boyfriend, just to see if he can actually do them. Spencer is silent for a second, and you think you’ve finally stumped him. 

“That one is complicated.”

You sit bolt upright in his bed, looking down at him and pointing an accusatory finger. His brows raise at the manic look in your eye. 

“You don’t know.”

“I do know. I meant it would be hard to explain if you aren’t a math person.”

“Bullshit!” You scoff, “you don’t know!”

“It would display on a calculator as five-point-three-eight-eight-E-thirteen. It’s a really big number.”

“Oh, really big, huh?” you mumble, searching for your phone blindly in the sheets and scrambling to open the calculator app. “Um… what numbers did I say?”

Spencer repeats them back to you and you press the equals sign. 

You look at it. 

And then you set your phone down. 

“I was right, huh?” he smiles up at you, probably reveling in your pouty wrongness. 

Too proud to admit it, you collapse on top of him, burying your face in his shoulder. 

“I don’t like this game anymore. What the fuck even is an e? Why are we doing algebra?”

Spencer laughs, brushing your hair aside. 

“The e stands for exponent. It’s to the power of ten.”

“Ever heard of a rhetorical question?”

“Yes, I have.”

It’s hard not to snort even at his dumbest jokes. 

“You’re annoying. Let’s do something else.”

You roll over onto your back again, letting your head flop over to look at Spencer, whose hair is exactly the right amount of messy after a long day, falling in impossibly soft waves over the perfect lines and contours of his face. Despite lounging, he’s still in his suit from work—he’d left Quantico and immediately picked you up. There were no solid plans for the evening, so after both of you pretended that you wanted to go out for a while, you ended up back at his apartment. 

He looks good. Almost too good. 

“Something like what?” he smiles lazily, reaching over and tracing his fingers over your cheek. 

“Something… naked?”

His grin widens and he shakes his head. 

“Me naked or you naked?”

Pretending to think about it, you roll your bottom lip between your teeth. 

“Mm… why not both?”

“Hm. Why do I feel like I know where this is going?”

The mattress sinks underneath your elbow as you prop yourself up, dropping your head over Spencer’s to kiss him. 

“Because you’re so smart, and you think it’s a great idea.”

He entertains your kiss for a moment. Just a moment.

“You sound sure of yourself.”

“Because I am!” You finally give in to your impulses, tangling your fingers in his hair and looking at him meaningfully. “It doesn’t make any sense for us to have not had sex. I don’t care about any of your weird, cryptic moral reasoning.”

He grabs your wrist carefully. 

“It is not moral,” he scoffs. “We haven’t even talked about it yet.”

“Really? Because I feel like we’ve talked about it a lot.” 

He begins to reply, but you realize you don’t want to get into a debate over whether you’ve technically talked about it yet. “I don’t even care! If that’s all that’s standing in your way, then let’s talk about it. Right now.”

Spencer sighs, his eyes darting between yours as he reaches up to cradle your cheek. 

“Fine. But I have things to say you’re not going to like.”

“So business as usual?”

He rolls his eyes. You allow yourself a tiny self-satisfied smirk, forever relishing in his poorly-hidden soft spot for your constant teasing. Spencer ignores this. Which is probably for the best. 

“I know you probably won’t see it this way, but—sex is different than everything else we’ve done so far. It can be really fun, obviously it feels good, it facilitates deeper feelings of connection—that’s all true. Which is why, in my opinion, it’s incredibly important that you be selective with who you sleep with. Because it’s so easy to do something you regret, and sex is vulnerable. It should always be with someone you trust and—and… care about.”

A pink flush stains his cheeks like watercolor as he stumbles over the last few words. It makes your heart flutter against the confines of your chest.

Maybe best not to think about the absence versus presence of certain four-letter words and what they may or may not mean. You’ll move on to more pressing matters and pretend like it doesn’t ache just a little in your whole body. 

You cover his hand with your own. 

“Are you going to break up with me anytime soon?”

Spencer’s eyes widen, filling with genuine horror and confusion. 

“What? No!”

“Are you going to cheat on me?”

“Absolutely not, I—”

“Then I’m not going to regret it. Issue resolved. Moving on.”

“Honey, I just want you to be 100% sure that I’m what you want.”

“Oh my god,” you groan, flopping onto your back once more. “I have begged you to sleep with me on multiple occasions. We have been dating for months and I liked you even longer before that. I think about it literally every time I see you. I don’t know how to be any surer.”

It’s quiet for a moment as you study the imaginary pattern on the ceiling. The rebuttal you’d been anticipating doesn’t come—instead, the mattress shifts next to you. Spencer enters your field of vision, now leaning over you with a little smile on his face that gives you butterflies. 

“Every time?”

“…yes, every time,” you agree, voice considerably thinner than it had been a moment ago. Spencer glances at your lips as he speaks. 

“Interesting. And what is it that you think about exactly?”

You groan again, attempting to roll facedown, but he pins your shoulder to the bed. The way he’s sweetly kissing down your cheek and jaw is infuriating because you know it’s a false pretense. 

“Ugh, I don’t know! Don’t make me answer that!”

“You said if talking about it was all that was standing in my way, we would talk about it. Now I want to talk about it. Come on,” he says, voice low and cloying against your throat as he attempts to tease the answer out of you. “Tell me what you think about when you think about us having sex.”

You let out a shaky breath at the feeling of his lips skimming your neck, hating how easily he can reduce you to this. 

“I… I always wonder what it will feel like. Sometimes I wonder if it will hurt.”

Spencer sighs, interrogation by way of seduction momentarily forgotten. You silently curse yourself for saying something so un-sexy. 

“It might, sweetheart. That’s one of the reasons we’ve held back. I… really don’t want to hurt you. I don’t even know if I can.”

You grab his face in both hands, forcing him to look at you with more confidence than you feel. 

“Sometimes I worry about it, too. But I like you a lot more than it scares me. I still want to.”

He kisses your palm. 

“You’ll be okay. It doesn’t hurt for everyone, and even if it does, you’re resilient.”

“Exactly. So you have to get over yourself.”

Spencer laughs like he wasn’t expecting to, eyes sparkling as he regards you.  

“Yeah. Yeah, maybe I do.”

He’s smiling again as he leans down and kisses you—a slow, lingering thing which tastes like spearmint as you part your lips for him. 

“Please?” you whisper against him after a long moment. He hums, keeps kissing you. 

“What is it that you think you want? You don’t even know what you’re asking for.”

“Tell me,” you beg, chasing his lips. “Tell me what you’re going to do with me. We can talk about it. This is talking about it.”

Spencer exhales deeply, wedging a thigh between yours. Immediately you clamp around it, trying not to grind against him too overtly. 

“You want to know what I’d do to you?”

“Yes—” you paw at his jacket. Surprisingly, he doesn’t stop you from pushing it off. Your heart pounds. 

“Well… we both know how anxious you get,” he muses, pressing his lips so delicately to your fluttering pulse-point in emphasis, and then back to your mouth. His thigh pushes harder against you to supplant the absence of his lips as he speaks, though he kisses you sporadically and between sentences. “You’re hard to get out of your head when you’re nervous, you know that? I watch it happen. One minute you’re with me, and then you start overthinking, and getting self-conscious. The only thing that seems to relax you is letting me touch you—so first I would touch you like I’ve touched you before. I’d make sure you know how pretty you are and how good you deserve to feel.” You whimper inadvertently at his words, arching into him and grinding against his leg as he pauses to kiss the sensitive soft spot below your jaw. “You’re going to need to be really ready to let me in. Do you know what I mean by that?”

As he asks, he pushes his thigh against you harder. Your body responds immediately, arching into him and seeking more friction. When you squeak, he takes it as a no. 

“I mean I need you relaxed and wet. You’ll excuse my crude language.”

You pull at his tie, breathing heavier now and so turned on it’s almost painful. 

“What are you gonna do after that?”

“What else is there to do but fuck you after that?” he breathes. “You want me to tell you how I’d fuck you?”

Something about it makes you whine salaciously. You’ve heard him curse—you’ve even heard him talk about fucking you. But it feels more real now; when it’s low in your ear and you’re covertly undressing him and he’s pushing your shirt over your stomach promisingly. 

“Yes, please.” 

He hums against your jaw, nipping and brushing his lips over the skin as he considers. Leaves you waiting. 

“I would have to take my time with you. You’ll be overwhelmed. I know you think you won’t, but you will. I’m going to have to be so, so careful with you, angel. It’s going to drive me insane. But it will feel good for you.”

“Why careful? I don’t want that.”

He chuckles. A chill runs down your spine. 

“Yeah, you do. You’re going to want me to be careful when I’m—” he pauses, pressing his thumb to your bare lower tummy and dragging up to a spot below your belly button. He presses down lightly again. “Right here. Approximately.”

The surface of the sun has nothing on the temperature of your skin in this moment, as you writhe underneath him in both arousal and embarrassment. Mostly, burning need. You feel almost sick with it. 

“Please don’t make me wait anymore. Just do it, please, Spencer. I need it to be you, I don’t want it to be anyone else. I promise I’m ready.”

It’s silent for a moment. Your heart quickens. You sense his walls wearing away, his instinct to keep you intact for god knows what reason crumbling. He’s finally going to give you what you’ve been begging for. 

Spencer opens his mouth, eyes glimmering—

And then his phone rings. 

You both freeze—he melts dejectedly before you do, more accustomed to an ill-timed phone call and realizing the finality it can present. 

He’s breathing heavily against your neck, as if maybe whoever it is will just hang up. But the phone keeps ringing. 

“I’m sorry.”

Your stomach sinks as he sits up, grabbing his phone from the side table and rubbing circles on your inner thigh as he answers.

“This is Reid,” he says, lackluster. 

If you wanted, you could hear what Penelope is saying—but you don’t bother listening. It’s going to be a case. Spencer is about to leave. The details are his problem. 

“Okay. I’ll be there in an hour.”

He hangs up, tossing the phone onto the mattress and not speaking for a moment, just continuing to rub your leg apologetically. Watching you almost mournfully—taking in your disheveled hair, your likely blown-out pupils, the shirt pushed almost over your chest. 

“I have to go right now,” he finally manages with a heavy sigh, gently pulling your shirt back into place. 

You sit up, shedding all the hopes that had been building for the evening, and try to sound chipper—though all you feel is bitter disappointment that goes deeper than you understand. 

“I know. Go ahead, I can get a cab home.”

He frowns, running his hand over the back of your hair. 

“I don’t love the idea of you standing on the sidewalk waiting for a car in this part of town so late. Do you just want to stay here for the night and go home tomorrow?”

You force a smile. Great. So you’ll be spending the night in his bed after all—just without him. 

“Sure. Thanks.”

“Yeah.”

Neither of you are feeling particularly grateful. 

Soon you’re walking him to his own door. Both of you come to a stop in front. 

“I’m sorry,” he sighs again. 

“Spencer, it’s fine. It’s your job. You don’t need to apologize. You were very clear about this part when we started dating.”

“I know, but… it’s easier in theory than in practice.”

You smile. If Spencer is a reflection of you, it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. His hair is still messy from your fingers running through it and he’s missing his tie. You hope all his coworkers see and feel bad about taking him away from you. 

But it’s not their fault. You just want someone to blame. 

Instead you mould yourself to his body, wrapping around him like you belong there. He returns your embrace, pressing his lips into the crook of your shoulder and rubbing your back in that way he always does with you. 

In that moment, your affection for him becomes so profound it’s like a chemical reaction—everywhere he touches burns and you love him so fucking much it aches in every inch of your body the way your muscles do when you have a bad fever. Love is the most terrible of afflictions, you realize. It is a fever dream. It’s every fiber of your being screaming to tell him how you feel, to beg him on your knees not to go because you love him like a child loves a parent or a bee loves honeysuckle or the ocean loves the horizon. Pared down to your most basic components, the barest version of yourself, you require him. Your soul needs his soul. 

“Spencer?”

“Hm?” 

It’s nothing more than an absentminded hum against your skin. 

“I…”

Should you be looking him in the eye when you say this? Should you say it right before he has to leave? Just because you say it doesn’t change the fact that he’s about to be gone for several long days. Maybe this is a terrible time to admit something that suddenly feels so true and so consequential. 

He senses your internal conflict, pulling back despite your resistance and holding your face between his hands. 

“You what?” He murmurs, soft eyes bouncing back and forth between your own. Fuck—you feel so observed, now. Like he can read your mind. 

“I forget.”

FUUUUUUCK. 

Spencer blinks. Processes. You watch the disbelief crystallizing over his eyes like ice freezing over a lake. 

He knows. 

He knows you didn’t forget, and he probably knows what you were going to say, and he’s going to tell himself he was wrong to spare your dignity. 

Everything hurts when he kisses you. You wonder what regret tastes like. 

“Well, let me know if you remember.”

It’s too gentle and at the same time he can’t hide the edge with all the tenderness in the world. You nod as if in a trance, already looking forward to dissociating as you lie in bed and stare at the dark ceiling.

Two small goodbyes are exchanged, slightly stifled now, as if shared between drunk strangers who have sobered up and are mutually embarrassed about how candidly they’d interacted before. 

You close the door behind him, doing up all the locks, and meticulously flick every light switch in the apartment off before climbing into his bed—though you don’t really feel like you deserve to be there anymore.

But perhaps this is all an overreaction. It’s not like you owe it to him to say I love you, or anything—it was bad timing, anyway. And why can’t he say it? In fact, why hasn’t he said it? 

Maybe you have it all wrong. 

Maybe he doesn’t feel that way about you. 

You fall asleep before you allow these questions to make you sick. 

24 hours go by. 

24 hours go by and you really had meant to leave his apartment—it was just that you woke up late, and your phone was dead so you couldn’t call a car, so you charged it while you made breakfast, and then you ate, and then you decided to take a shower and wash your clothes, and then it was two in the afternoon and you hadn’t left yet and you decided to walk to the store and replenish the groceries you’d used up. 

Maybe you got a bit distracted looking at flowers and other beautiful things at the market and by the time you got home it was 5:00, so you decided to wait until seven to skip rush hour. And then eight, just to be sure. 

Before you know it, it’s midnight, and you’re dozing off in his bed again (teeth cleaned with the brush you’d bought at the store—maybe this whole situation hadn’t been entirely unwitting on your part.)

Throughout the day, you tried to let all your anxiety about the previous night melt away. If it’s something that needs to be addressed, Spencer will address it. Everything will work out in the end. That thought is how you’re able to doze off. 

You’re almost asleep when your phone lights up and begins buzzing on the side table. You wince as your eyes open, not adjusting well to the harsh bright display and unable to discern who’s even calling you at this hour. Stupidly, probably because you’re half asleep, you answer without checking. 

“Hello?”

Your voice is groggy, quiet with sleep. 

“Shit, did I wake you?”

“Spence?” you whisper, stomach flipping at the sound of his voice on the other line. You feel caught, still sleeping in his bed. 

“… yeah,” he chuckles. “Did you not check who was calling before you picked up?”

“I was asleep,” you pout. “Kinda.”

“Okay. Go back to sleep, honey. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

You sit bolt upright, phone balanced between tense fingers and speaking directly into the microphone. 

“No! No, I’m awake. What’s up? Why did you call?”

A longer stretch of silence—you’re too sleepy to comprehend what it might mean, though never too sleepy to worry about it. With a pang of pain, you recall your strange goodbye, the words you hadn’t said. 

“I just needed to hear your voice,” he sighs. You frown, staring at nothing in particular in the pitch black room. 

“Oh. Is everything okay?”

“As much as it can be.”

“Right.”

More quiet. You chew on the inside of your cheek, stricken with a sudden feeling of awkwardness that you haven’t had with Spencer in a while. 

“I’m sorry… I don’t really know what to say.”

“That’s okay,” he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice which makes you feel a bit better, “why don’t you tell me about your day? Or you can absolutely go back to sleep, if you’re too tired.”

“Don’t ask me about my day,” you whisper, flopping down on the bed once more. Shame seeps into your voice. He laughs. 

“What? Why?”

“Because if I tell you you’re going to think I’m super weird and you’re going to break up with me.”

Laughter tapers off into gentler tones. 

“I already think you’re super weird. It’s actually one of your most attractive qualities.”

Blood rushes to your cheeks. 

“But it’s like… borderline crazy.”

Immediately, he replies, “for better or worse, I also frequently find myself attracted to crazy.”

“Thank you for calling me crazy and super weird,” you grumble. 

“I also called you attractive twice. Tell me.”

When his tone takes on that easy, assertive quality, and it’s sort of raspy and low because it’s late and he’s been talking all day, and you can hear the lazy smile on his face—you imagine him laying on his hotel bed, arm slung over his eyes in the dark as he grins into the microphone—you have a very difficult time saying no. 

“Fine. Guess where I am right now.”

“Um, I would hope you’re in bed?”

You smile to yourself, basking in the victory of successfully throwing him off his game even slightly. 

“Guess whose bed.”

Silence. 

“What an interesting question.” That cocky smile, the low drawling is back, and you chew on your lip, ignoring the shiver that runs down your spine. “If it’s not mine or yours, we’re going to have issues.”

“But if it is yours? You’re not going to call the police on me?”

“Why would I call the police? To tell them there’s a pretty girl in my bed and I don’t want her there?”

“To tell them your psychopathic girlfriend broke into your apartment and might be holding hostages there.”

Spencer laughs; a brittle, drawn out thing, flat and quiet as the desert.

“If you were a psychopath, calling the cops would be a waste of time. I would handle you myself.” The idea of being handled has your thighs clenching. “But—yeah, don’t invite anyone else in.” More humor finds its way into his voice, momentarily relieving some tension that had sneakily begun to build. “Having people in my space makes me anxious.”

“But not me?” Your whisper is half flirtatious, half insecure. Spencer’s reply is soft, as if he’s picking up on this from hundreds of miles away.

“No, not you. You are always the exception.”

“Good,” you say, cheeks aching as you half-bury your warm face into his pillow. “Because I made myself really comfortable. You have a nice shower, by the way.”

Spencer groans. 

“You’re killing me.”

“What? What did I do!”

“Don’t talk to me about my bed and my shower. I might start to think you’re intentionally being a brat.”

“You asked me about my day! I’m just telling you what I did!”

But you’re also intentional teasing him for sure.  After a pause, he sighs in defeat. 

“You’re right. I did do that. Tell me what else happened.”

“Well,” you begin, all too eager, “I had to put my clothes in the dryer after I got out, so I borrowed some of yours. But then they were way comfier than mine, so after I went to the store I put them back on, and—”

“Okay.”

“Okay what?” you frown. 

“Tell me what this is.”

“I—I don’t know what you mean.”

Lying to a profiler is usually pointless. 

“I’m not stupid, sweetheart. Tell me why you keep talking about my shower and my bed and my clothes.”

Caught red-handed. Your skin heats up. 

“I don’t know. I miss you.”

He hums in a way that blurs the line between sympathetic and patronizing. Even through the phone you can feel the bass of it in your bones.  It changes the frequency you’re vibrating at. It’s hypnotic. 

“But that’s not really why you’re being intentionally provocative, is it?”

“No,” you admit quietly. “I’m still upset you had to go last night.”

“So you’re frustrated and you’re taking it out on me?”

Your brow furrows. Well, when he puts it like that…

“I’m not taking anything out on you.”

“I think you are. And I don’t appreciate that, because I’m on your side, honey. Do you think I prefer being in a hotel bed by myself or being in my bed with you?”

Somehow, he makes you feel like a scolded child. But he makes it appealing in ways you don’t understand. 

“Your bed with me,” you murmur, skin prickling with the coldness of his absence even as you curl under the blanket. 

“Right. So why don’t you tell me what I can do for you right now, instead of punishing me for things that are beyond my control?”

“I wasn’t punishing you,” you mutter. 

“No? You weren’t intentionally talking about using my shower and sleeping in my bed and putting on my clothes so that I’d have to think about what I can’t have right now?”

“I—”

“Believe me when I tell you I have been thinking about what I can’t have, all day. Your efforts are entirely redundant and you can’t say anything about yourself that is even close to as dirty as the frankly disrespectful thoughts I’ve been having about you for seventeen hours.”

The lack of air is making you so dizzy your vision goes gray at the edges. 

“What… what thoughts?”

“None that you need to concern yourself with.”

“You can’t just say something like that and then not tell me!” you insist. He’s obviously giving you a taste of your own medicine and it’s fair but it doesn’t mean you have to like it. 

“I can do whatever I want,” Spencer corrects cooly in a way that pisses you off beyond belief because he’s right. It triggers some adolescent immaturity within you—a desire to get back at him, so to speak. He wants intentionally provocative? He can have it. 

“Fine. Then so can I. And there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it even if I could.”

“Spencer,” you warn. “If you don’t tell me what you were thinking I’m gonna—” you look around the room for ammo. “I’m gonna look through your nightstand!”

“Go ahead. I’ll warn you, it’s not very interesting.”

“Sounds like what someone who has something hide would say,” you mumble, crawling across the mattress through tangled sheets and using your phone flashlight to open the drawer. 

Spencer is patient and silent as you take in its contents—a small blue leather-bound notebook (full of what looks like Russian), a fountain pen, a glasses case, various kinds of vitamins, and—

“Spencer Reid,” you say, dragging out his name and pretending nothing is fluttering in your stomach, “what are these?”

“I don’t know. I can’t see what you’re referring to.”

“Take a wild guess.”

“Oh, I have one. But I’d like to hear you say it.”

You realize you may have gotten yourself in deeper than you meant to by going through his stuff. Well—they don’t say karma is a bitch for nothing. 

“What are you doing with a box of condoms?” 

He chuckles and you feel it in your whole body, warm as you stretch across his mattress and eye the box like it might jump out at you. 

“Those are years old. I’ve used three since I bought them.”

“Don’t tell me that,” you whine. “I don’t wanna think about all the other women you’ve seduced.”

“You wanted them to be for you, huh?” 

You flush. Honestly you hadn’t even thought about that. 

“I… I don’t know. I kind of just assumed…”

It’s silent for a second and you frown, realizing you hadn’t even considered protection when you’d imagined sleeping with him before. 

“You assumed what, honey?” he asks, voice soft. 

“It’s dumb. I can’t tell you.”

“You can tell me anything. I’m not going to think it’s dumb, I promise.”

You chew on your lip, letting your eyes unfocus on the box as you muster the courage to be honest. 

“Whenever I imagined it… we didn’t… use anything.”

The words make you cringe even as you’re saying them. So does the quiet that follows. 

“When you imagine us sleeping together, we don’t use a condom?”

“Ah!” The phone drops to the mattress as you cover your ears and roll onto your side, curling into yourself once more. “You didn’t have to say it! You make me sound so weird!”

“It’s not weird,” he laughs, because he can probably imagine exactly what you just did, “I just wanted to make sure I was understanding you. That said… we would definitely use protection.”

“Do we have to?”

The quiet words take even you by surprise—and they seem to stun Spencer as well. Several false starts are punctuated by a sigh as he gathers his thoughts. 

“We really should, baby. That’s the kind of thing we need to take seriously.”

“But you’re… you’re good, right?”

Thankfully he picks up on your meaning. 

“I am. I wouldn’t touch you if I weren’t.”

“And I’m good. So...”

“Hm. And has anyone ever explained to you where babies come from?”

You groan in frustration. 

“Spencer, I’m being serious! There are ways to negate that.”

“Honey,” he murmurs, “I understand that. But it would be irresponsible of me to say yes. We can talk about it in the future, but—”

“I’m telling you it’s already dealt with. The chances of an accidental pregnancy are slim to none.”

The new information hangs in the air for a moment until Spencer speaks—to your surprise, his voice is low and humorous. 

“That is… good to know. But even so—I’m setting a dangerous precedent if I always let you get exactly what you want.”

“Is it such a bad thing that I just wanna—I wanna know what it feels like? You don’t want that?”

“That’s not what I said. I want to know exactly what you feel like. I’m just hesitant to give in so quickly because it makes me look weak.”

You laugh breathlessly, caught between being turned on by the first part of his sentence and amused by the sarcastic second half. Your thighs clench and your hand absentmindedly wanders between them. 

“You know what I was thinking about?” you ask. Spencer hums curiously. “I was thinking about when you let me, um… when you let me touch you how you touch me.” He hums again, but you can hear the amused curve of a smile in it now.

“When you had your mouth all full of me and you looked so pretty?”

“When I—yeah,” you agree, too caught up to deny his compliment as your fingers brush your most sensitive spot through clothing. “And  how you got me all messy after. And I was wondering what it would feel like… inside me.”

He sucks in a breath. Your legs brush against each other and you twist slightly as you pretend like you’re not touching yourself just a little bit. 

“You want me to come inside you?”

“Yeah,” you whisper, brain short-circuiting at the way those words sound in his voice. 

—

On the other side of the line, Spencer isn’t doing a fantastic job of thinking clearly either. His dick is half-hard already and it’s only getting worse with each little noise you make that you don’t seem to realize you’re making. 

“Really? That would be very messy, baby. I’m surprised that’s what you want.”

“But I really want it,” you breathe. He’s not even looking as he slips his hand under the waistband of his pajamas and palms himself, his other hand rubbing tiredly over his face as his phone rests on his chest. This was not how he intended for this call to go, believe it or not—but he’s here now. 

“Yeah? Is that why you’re touching yourself right now?”

You go silent—which is more or less exactly the reaction Spencer had been expecting. Patiently he waits for you to deny it, in three, two—

“’M not.”

Now, he could explain how he knows that’s a lie. How your breathing pattern changed, and your voice got softer and airier, and how you started speaking with smaller words in fragmented sentences. But he doesn’t feel like explaining any of that. 

“I know that’s not true,” he murmurs. “You know what? It wasn’t fair to get you all worked up last night and then leave. I don’t want you frustrated, honey. I want you to do whatever you need to do.”

You make a little gasping noise, and Spencer can imagine the way your back would arch when you did it. His own hips buck slightly as his dick twitches under his fingers. 

“Where are you touching?”

“Um—over my clothes.”

Cute. 

“Go under them for me. Tell me how it feels when you’re touching yourself like that.”

It takes a moment, in which all he hears is the rustling of fabric, until you’re whispering, “feels… it feels good. I wish you were here.”

He inhales, freeing his cock and squeezing the base. 

“I know. Just listen to my voice, pretty. I’m right here.”

Spencer allows himself a few slow tugs as he imagines what’s happening in his bed. You make a squeaking noise, like a held-back moan, and his eyes screw shut. 

“I need them inside,” you whine, and he knows you’re referring to his fingers—the ones currently stroking his own leaking cock. 

“You can use your own, just give yourself a minute first. Remember what I said about needing to be ready?”

“I am ready—” judging by the surprised chirp you interrupt yourself with, you’ve proven yourself right. What surprises Spencer is the weak sound of disappointment you make next. “Spence, it doesn’t feel the same.”

“We’re different sizes, honey. Your hands aren’t as big as mine. But you can still make it feel good.” 

He almost says, 90% of the nerves in the vaginal canal are located in the lower third—in other words, within approximately 2.36 inches from the opening, which you can most certainly reach—but he refrains. He’s not sure if that’s good dirty talk. 

“You have a really sensitive spot about three inches up, right in front. It’s going to feel a little different than the rest of you when you touch it. I want you to try and find it for me, okay?”

“Okay,” you breathe, ever-eager to please even from a great distance. There’s a quiet moment. “I can’t—I don’t think I can r—oh,”

The moan is so pretty Spencer can’t help speeding up the motion of his hand, hissing slightly as his fingers brush against the angry tip with every pump. 

“Did you find it?”

“Yeah,” you whine, a weak, high-pitched thing. “Oh my god.”

“Be gentle,” he warns with some effort as his own hips jump slightly. “You’re really sensitive there. If you’re not careful you’ll make yourself sore.”

“I don’t care—holy shit—” the way your voice rises and tightens to a squeak at the end has Spencer moaning as he fucks his fist. A black hole forms and warps time, turning every minute into a second and every second into an infinity until he has no idea how much time is going by. He drags his thumb over the tip, smearing precum over his cock and whining as his jaw drops at the feeling. “Oh my god, Spencer,” in that same strained, high voice. “’M gonna—ah!”

He gets the general sentiment. 

“What, baby? You’re gonna make yourself come all over your fingers? Is that what you wanted to tell me?”

“Mhm!”

“Yeah, I bet you are. It feels good, huh?”

“Yes,” you cry. 

“See? You don’t need my fingers to feel good. Mine barely fit, you know that? I have to hold your fucking hips down whenever I put my fingers in you because you can’t stop squirming. I don’t know how you think you’re going to take my cock.”

“Spencer!” 

He knows. 

“Come, baby. Let me hear you.”

The delicate sounds you make as you bring yourself to orgasm tip him over the edge of his own—grunting as he comes all over his fist. 

“Jesus,” he strains under his breath, the word dragging out into two long syllables as his hips buck involuntarily and cum drips down his knuckles. He’s lightheaded and he’s created a mess and it all happened so quickly. “Fuck,” he breathes, a rasping chuckle as he reaches for the towel he’d dropped on the bed after his shower earlier. “You conscious over there?”

“I’m conscious,” you slur, breathing heavily. “I’ve never had an orgasm by myself before.”

“Are you proud of yourself?” Spencer smiles, wiping his hand off and making sure he’s otherwise clean. “You should be. I am.”

He’s barely kidding. 

“I’ll be proud when I can do it without your help,” you tease. 

“But I’ll always want to help you with that.” His already warm face flushes further as he goes over what he’d said. “Sorry I was so vulgar.”

You laugh. He blushes even more. 

“Are you? I think you secretly love being vulgar.”

“I don’t know why! I have no idea where it comes from. I would never speak that way in any other context. I should probably work on that. Sometimes I look back on the things I say and I’m genuinely appalled.”

“Well, don’t stop on my account. Personally I enjoy it.”

“Yeah, I think I’m corrupting you. You probably shouldn’t enjoy it.”

The truth of it weighs heavy on his mind, but he’s pretty sure his voice alone doesn’t betray that and you can’t sense it through the phone. 

“Oh, my god. Do not do that falling on your sword shit. I like being corrupted by you. If you stop I’ll be very upset.”

“Well god forbid you get upset,” he teases gently. Idly he wonders if the reason he’s suddenly feeling so depressed is because his cortisol levels were already high from the case, and then he jarred his system with an orgasm, spiking his dopamine and ultimately causing it to plummet without the oxytocin release that post-coital physical contact would usually provide. 

Or if it was something else. It could also be something else. 

For the millionth time, he wishes he was with you. Part of him also wants to go to sleep. But mostly he wishes he was with you. 

—

A comfortable silence settles over the conversation. In the ditch between words, you’re mapping constellations in the texture of Spencer’s ceiling. If you squeeze your eyes almost shut, you can imagine it really is the night sky. You can imagine he’s really here. 

You think about what he said—his apparently mindless vulgarity. Did it mean anything? Or was he just rambling to get you off?

“Spencer?” you murmur. 

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask you a question?”

He sounds earnest, perhaps a little tired, as he replies, “always,” through the little metal rectangle on your chest. He likes me and my questions are important to him, you repeat to yourself silently as you work up the strength. 

“If Penelope hadn’t called, last night… were you going to have sex with me?” 

Your lip tastes like his toothpaste as you chew it. Spencer sucks in a breath of air like he’s about to speak—and lets it fizzle out like foam on a carbonated drink. 

“I don’t know,” he finally admits, lamely. “That wasn’t my plan, but you can be extremely convincing when you want to be.”

“But why can’t it be your plan?” It’s an almost whine, pouty and childish—but the next words are quiet and pained. “Is it something I’m doing wrong?”

“No, no! It’s not you. You’re perfect. It’s—it’s complicated. It’s a me thing.”

Such trite words—such a ubiquitous, simple excuse sounds almost comical from his mouth when you know he’s capable of all the eloquence in the world. It’s not you, it’s me. It’s ridiculous. 

“Okay. Let me simplify this for you,” you begin with an uncharacteristic assertiveness that surprises even you. “I want to have sex with you. Either we are going to have sex or we’re not. So your future branches in two diverging paths. In one, we have sex, and then we keep having sex. In the other we never have sex ever. If you want to ever have the privilege of fucking me, then we just have to do it. Otherwise it simply will never happen. And I’m not eternally patient, Reid.”

Go me, you think, slightly breathless from your monologue. 

“Watch your mouth,” he says dryly. Something about the chastisement makes your stomach flip and your whole body tingle. “When you talk to me you call me Spencer. I will also accept Doctor Reid.” You wrestle down a smile, refusing to let him change the subject. A delayed sigh from him sobers up the conversation. “You know what I want. I’ve been very clear with you about that. But…”

“But…?”

Another sigh. A deeper, shuddering sigh, like his breath is searching for balance. Like Spencer is in a precarious position for which he was unprepared. 

“But—but to be completely honest… I worry that you’ll regret choosing me. And I know virginity is a social construct and I’m not implying that your worth will somehow be diminished if we have sex but regardless of my views on virginity as a construct, having sex for the first time can be weird and scary and it’s incredibly intimate and I don’t want you to regret your first time like I regret mine because you chose the wrong person.”

The words come at you so rapid-fire it takes you a moment to process them. And aside from all the ways you want to reassure him that you will not regret choosing him—that you could never, ever regret anything about him—one thing stands out. 

“You regret your first time?” 

Something between a scoff and a sigh travels through the line. You can tell he’s not annoyed at you for asking so much as he’s flustered himself with all his own words as he occasionally does. 

“Yeah. Yes. Sometimes I do. The person—she didn’t… like me as much as I liked her. And I was really, really in love with her, and she knew that and she knew she wasn’t in love with me—or maybe she was, I don’t know—but my point is, when one person likes the other more than the other person like them, things get complicated. And however you feel about me—that’s fine. It’s fine. I don’t want you to feel bad if we don’t feel exactly the same way about each other. I understand that this is newer for you, it’s different, I—I just don’t want us to do something we can’t undo because I don’t want to relive that. And I’m not saying it will never happen but I just don’t want you to make this choice when… when right now, I think we’re in different places emotionally. Regardless of that, I want you to choose the right person. I don’t want you to choose me and then find out that we feel differently after we sleep together and leave you feeling like you signed up for something you didn’t understand. I’m sorry. Maybe telling you this is selfish. But I’ve been thinking about it and trying to ignore it and I think I just have to be completely honest.”

Your ears ring like Spencer just fired a blank right into the microphone. Like you just got backhanded across the face and now you have the world’s worst case of whiplash. 

Every finger is numb and your blood is so cold it feels blue as it slithers thick through your veins. 

What you want to do is scream. What you want to do is go back to last night and stop yourself from almost telling him I love you, slap yourself and keep your cards a little closer to your chest. Because now he knows, and he doesn’t feel the same. 

You want to scream bloody murder. 

But when you try, when you unhinge your jaw and part your chapped lips and expect a bellow to come hurdling up the corridor of your throat with so much force it rattles your bones, all that falls out is a small, “oh.”

Maybe that’s worse. 

Spencer doesn’t reply. You hate yourself for feeling obliged to fill the silence. 

“I didn’t realize you…”

I didn’t realize that you don’t love me back. 

I didn’t realize I like you more than you like me. 

I didn’t realize you’d tell me to masturbate in your fucking bed and then drop this not even five minutes later. 

If Spencer Reid was able to talk to you over the phone with the same amount of affection and familiarity as always, like everything was still okay, knowing you love him and he doesn’t love you the whole time, he is not who you thought he was. 

“I’m sorry,” he lamely says again, like it could ever help. 

More silence. Now you can’t bring yourself to speak, so Spencer does. 

“I realize how awkward this is. I really didn’t mean to put you in this position. Especially not over the phone when I—god, I’m stupid. I’m sorry. But can we—can we talk about this in person when I get back? Please?”

Is that what grownups do? Is the proper etiquette for him to take you out to dinner and explain why he’s not in love with you? Is he going to break up with you?

What does one even wear to a breakup date?

“Okay,” you whisper. Your eyes sting, your everything stings, like you’ve been wrapped in a shroud of briar. Sheets that were soft a moment ago feel like sandpaper on open wounds. You feel like an open wound. 

Spencer sighs. It’s a sound of relief that confuses and hurts you even more. 

“Okay. I—okay. Thank you. Um—I’ll let you go back to sleep, now.”

“Okay,” you repeat—as if any of this were okay. But you can’t keep being that stupid girl who feels it all so much harder, who loves easily and begs to be loved in return, too naive to assume that someone who treats her so kindly might not reciprocate her feelings. It has to be okay, because if it’s not, you’re silly and dramatic and you’re just proving him right. 

“Goodnight,” Spencer whispers, and you can’t help but feeling that it’s the last time you’ll ever hear those words from his mouth while you’re in his bed. And he’s not even fucking here.

So you pull the blanket a little higher. You let your tears stain his pillow because they’ll be invisible by the morning. It will be like they were never here. Like you were never here. 

“Goodnight.”

-

part five

[anundyingfidelity]

DO YOU HATE ME THAT MUCH? — Billy Butcher

Summary: Butcher gives orders for you to stay back from the fight. You hardly comply and prove differently; he starts thinking in a very improper manner about you.

Pairing: Billy Butcher x female!supe reader.

Word count: 2k.

Warnings: smut!! hate sex, unprotected sex, fingering, enemies to fuck buddies, reader can control blood and explode shit (like Victoria Neuman lol), the usual mentions of violence.

Notes: this is a request made by @thatcharmingmushroom for my 400 followers drabbles celebration. I'm sorry I took soooo damn long on this, but I hope you like it and thank you so much for the idea because I had so much fun with it! I picked the Herogasm episode for this tho hehe

☕ if you like my writing support me with a ko-fi !

GEN MASTERLIST!

taglist is here!

On the hunt for Payback, you made your way to infiltrate Herogasm along with Butcher, Hughie and the new asshole, Soldier Boy, not caring that the British dick ordered you a thousand times to stay back.

For different reasons, you were kind of forced to stay with the team, and while you didn’t really get along with any of them, Butcher was by far the one you hated the most. And, in the end, when Soldier Boy burned the whole place to the ground with a blast and Homelander arrived, you couldn’t stand there doing nothing. While the three men tried to hold down Homelander, you used your blood to create strong whips around his limbs, trying to tie him to the ground as Soldier Boy prepared to blast, yet again.

But just in seconds, Homelander recharged himself and pushed them all aside, cutting your whips, and flashing you quickly with his heat vision before storming out. Your blood blades barely made it to the hole he left in the roof as the supe just disappeared, flying away like a scared bitch.

“Well,” you started after an instant of staying silent. “I guess we fucking failed.”

Butcher shot you a dark glare as he walked straight until he stopped in front of you. “You shouldn’t be here,” he whispered.

You held his eyes as he towered you with his broad figure. He looked even more intimidating now he started playing the supe, injecting himself with Compund V. “I don’t care.”

There was this smug smirk on his face as you talked back. You knew he hated you; you knew you hated him. But as fucking weird your powers were, controling blood and exploding people with their own, Butcher found you interesting and stupidly astonishing. But of course, he wasn’t going to admit it. They were just intrusive thoughts about you and how hot you were, defying his direct orders of strictly not coming to the supe-orgy. Yeah, Homelander was a fucking cunt, and he would take care of Soldier Boy soon too. Right now, he just needed something to take the stress out after another stupid failure. His hand would work later once back at the motel, he decided.

Butcher leaned down, until his lips almost brushed the shell of your ear. “We’ll see about that.”

“Why do I have to keep listening to you?” you asked as Butcher followed back to the motel.

You stopped right out of your door, because of course you weren’t going to share a room with him and the old asshole. Hughie, who went inside their room, was the only decent human being between all of them, but still, you had to take care of yourself from those fuckers. Besides, the British idiot wouldn’t stop the verbal vomiting the whole fucking trip and you were growing sick of it.

“Because, for starters, you’re a fucking newbie here,” Butcher replied, smirking hatefully. “And second, your powers are fucking out of control. You need training and keep your mouth shut.”

You rolled your eyes, showing him your wrists. “I already healed myself from the cuts I made. Perhaps I should use your blood next time?”

“No, there’s no next time for you.”

“You don’t decide that, Butcher,” you crossed your arms over your chest, tired of being treated like a stupid kid. “I’m helping on this, I want him dead. And if any of you idiots don’t kill him, then I will.”

He curved an eyebrow, not showing any signs of being taken aback at your words, but inside, he was just in awe as before. You really hated Homelander as much as he did, however, you didn’t have a fucking plan. You would attack first, ask questions later. In any way, since when could he care about that? He had no idea.

“Hey,” Soldier Boy talked behind Butcher and stepped in closer between both of you. “You fucking stay back from this, you ain’t doing shit with your blood whips.”

Furious, you motioned your hand to draw fresh blood from a wound on his cheek and created a sharp blade, cutting his skin lightly. Soldier Boy clenched his jaw before smirking at you.

“Talk to me like that ever again and I’ll blow your dick, and not the way you like it,” you warned through your teeth.

Soldier Boy wiped the blood off the fresh wound, and smiled anew before patting Butcher on the shoulder. “She’s all yours, pal.”

With that, the old supe disappeared in the next room. You just wanted this to be over, so you turned around to get inside your room, but Butcher wouldn’t leave you alone just yet, putting his foot between the door and the frame, holding it with his super strength.

“What the fuck you want now?!” you yelled at him as he made his way inside, slamming the door closed.

“Imma have to call the fucking CIA if you don’t calm down your ass,” he threatened between his teeth.

“You wouldn’t-”

“I can, and I fucking will,” he insisted, taking slow strides, making you step back from him until your back met the wall.

His eyes were getting dangerously dark and you could smell the sweat and dry blood coming from him. You noticed his pulse was increasing, and you grinned. Your mind jumped to an unsafe place where you probably knew what Butcher was feeling right now. The heat and coming down the high of what could have been the end of both yours and his enemy was too much to burden. Little did he know that you were the kind of person that used to take out the stress with something, or someone. Just like him.

“From one to ten, how much do you hate me?” you asked all of the sudden, looking straight into his eyes.

Butcher’s fierceful gaze turned into confusion. “What?”

“How fucking much do you hate me?” you repeated yourself steadier.

Butcher rolled his eyes before answering in a whisper. “I’d choose a one thousand scale for that.”

“Good, I hate you too,” you replied with a smirk before pulling him for a kiss that turned heated too fast, but you didn’t care.

You needed release. Something quick, hard and hot to take it out of your system. He was perfect for the task, and by the way his tongue tasted your mouth, you found out that he wouldn’t step back. At least you hoped so. The tension between both of you was so damn sharp and it was just a matter of time for that bomb to explode, and you preferred it this way instead of fighting each other to death.

Gripping the neck of his shirt to get even closer as you kissed, Butcher’s hands roamed all over your hips, running on your sides until he met the flesh of your ass on your jeans, pressing you towards his chest. You gasped against his mouth when he started to unzip your pants, you worked immediately on the buttons of his shirt. Desperately, you discharged his shirt, the fabric being followed to his pants, and he undressed you with the same eagerness until you were only panties and bra.

Butcher lifted you up from the ground, hands on your thighs as he guided you to the mattress. He crawled on top of you, spreading your legs with his big, rough hands and leaning down to lick down at your chest and rip your bra off. His action made you gasp out loud at the same time he sucked on a nipple like a starved man.

“You're a fucking beast,” you whimpered, feeling his hands peeling off your panties and leaving you completely exposed at his mercy.

You tugged at his jeans and he pulled them down along with his boxers as quickly as he could, taking out his dick with that smug smile on his stupid face. He noticed your eyes taking the sight of his half nakedness, biting your lip slightly once you focused on his hard cock pressing on your crotch. It only made you wet.

“Well, I plan to fuck you like one,” he said, grabbing the back of your legs and rubbing the tip of his cock against your wet folds.

“Show me, don’t talk- fuck!”

You let out a rather loud moan when he rubbed your clit with his fingers, playing with your entrance until he inserted a single, thick digit in your pussy. Butcher stretched you out with a finger, then slid a second one, scissoring them to reach your deepest spots as your walls clenched around his digits. You kept whimpering and moaning as he increased the thrusts of his hand.

“Bloody fuck, these are the only sounds I like coming from your mouth, luv,” he hissed, sensing that you almost came on his fingers.

Right before you reached your high, he pulled out and you groaned in annoyance, feeling empty once again.

“Shit,” you breathed out.

He positioned between your legs anew, getting comfortable as he started to push his tip against your slit. The grip of his hands on your thighs became a little harsh once he entered you slowly, the thickness of his cock splitting you open.

“What a tight cunt I always knew you’d be,” he grunted, filling you up completely and leaning down to mark your neck with his teeth.

His mouth and thrusts earned him your sweet moans as he fucked you senseless. The burning soon turned into pleasure. Your nails scratched his back while moaning incoherent words. His hands on your thighs would leave marks on your skin, but it felt so damn good. You needed a little bit of pain to remind you that you were alive, rotting for that sweet bliss only sex could give you.

Moans escaped from your throat and mingled with his deep groans and the sound of your skin against his own, the headboard of the bed hitting the wall with every of his hard thrusts. You pulled him down for a wet kiss when you felt closer and closer to come undone.

“Fuck, I’m so close,” you gasped.

Butcher increased the rhythm of his thrusts, his cock throbbing as your walls started to clench around him.

“You’ll be the death of me,” he mumbled against your mouth.

“Do you still hate me?” you asked, trying to catch your breath. You reached down to rub your clit. You were so close, almost there.

“If I keep fucking you like this then I might change my mind- holy fuck!”

In that moment, you came hard with a string of curses and clenching your walls around his cock. The pound of his hips increased and he fucked you through your orgasm to reach his own. You continued rubbing your clit, fingers finding the place where you two connected, meeting his cock coated with your juices when he pulled out just slightly to slam back inside again.

Butcher emptied his cum inside you, mumbling dirty words against your ear. His rhythm slowing down eventually, fucking his seed in your pussy. Once he came down from his high, he pulled out and rolled by your side on the bed. Your body started to ache but in the best way possible. It was the best fuck you had in a long time. After a couple of minutes in complete silence you decided to talk, eyes fixed on the ceiling.

“I hope you keep hating on me…”

He turned slightly to see your blank face. “Why?”

“I love hate-fucking.”

He scoffed with a smile curving on his lips. “You bet I enjoyed this too.”

Within a second, you climbed on top of him. Thighs straddling his lap as you rubbed your cunt on his soft cock.

“Second round? You can eat me out and suck your cum out of me,” you gave him a wink, rolling your hips and leaning down for a quick kiss.

“Dirty girl,” Butcher whispered on your lips. “Perhaps put your mouth into good use.”

“I like how that sounds,” you smiled back at him.

Billy Butcher taglist

@delaynew

@thesilmarillionblog

@feyresqueen

@drasticemotions

[fairysluna]

I have a request 🙄🤭 threesome cregan Jace and reader no plot just smut maybe? Either modern or not

MASTERLIST

Hope you like this story made especially for you!! please enjoy it and thank you for sending this request🤍 This is the first threesome I've ever written, so this is complete new territory for me, I hope I did good tho.💀

Reblogs, comments and feedback are highly appreciated!

PAIRING — Cregan Stark x Fem!Reader x Jacaerys Velaryon.

TAGS — canon!time, targcest (brother/sister), porn w/o plot, smut (threesome, F/M/M, oral sex - both receiving, face fucking, p in v, slight degrading, breeding, praising, spit, pussy slapping, belly buldge, overstimulation, aftercare), cursing, a tiny bit of cregan x jace, cregan and reader are betrothed, dom!cregan/switch!jace/sub!reader. If something is missing let me know!!

WORD COUNT — 2k.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤenglish is not my first language.

Cregan loved to hear how overstimulated you were. His hands were gripping your thighs - keeping your legs spreaded. He saw how Jacaerys was eagerly lapping at your throbbing clit, moaning and whimpering against your flesh. You were crying already, tears of raw pleasure streaming down your face as your entire body trembled between his arms. You were barely able to hold it together anymore, laying against Cregan's chest - eyelids closing by themselves.

Jacaerys, your sweet brother, had no intention to stop. His tongue doing wonders as he dived it inside of you - his nose rubbing against your clit. His face was red and sweaty, covered in your slick after stealing three orgasm from you - yet it seemed he hadn't had enough. Your hips would twitch, trying to squirm away from his hungry mouth without success.

“Please, stop! It's- it's too much… I can't!” you mumbled, digging your nails in Cregan's arm. “Jace- Jace, please…”

The youngest man looked up from his position, his tongue still attached to your folds, slowly circling around your swollen pearl while his deep, brown eyes stared at you through a layer of lust. He searched for Cregan's approval, and he denied it.

“Don't listen to her,” he huskily said. His hot breath against your neck caused shivers down your spine. “She's a tough girl, right? I bet she can handle another one.”

“M-my lord… please…”

“What kind of host would I be if I don't make sure my guests are satisfied?” A deep laugh followed his words, a simple sound that almost pushed you over the edge. “Your dear brother hasn't finished his meal yet, be a good princess and keep your legs open for him, okay? He’ll know when it's enough.”

Jacaerys followed Lord Stark's words, indulging further in your taste until you were nothing but a mess between their arms. He would use his fingers to tease your entrance, pushing them in and then pulling them out to lick you off. He repeated this action multiple times, until you were cumming on his face once again and coating his long fingers with your slick. He hummed, delighted to drink from you, enjoying the sweetness of your release and devouring every single drop that came out of you.

Once he finally decided to pull away, you sighed - relieved that he had finally stopped and gave you time to rest. Cregan cooed against your ear, praising you with soft words as his thumbs wiped the tears that had fallen down your warm cheeks.

“Such a good job,” he murmured. “Taking everything we give you, huh?.”

“I'll never get tired of her taste,” Jacaerys added- almost in a whine, caressing your thighs. “So sweet, and so addictive.”

“Oh. Do you hear how greatly your brother speaks of you? He's so sweet, so nice to you- to us…” he added, looking at the Prince who was kneeling in bed in front of the both of you. “I think you should reward him for what he has done to you.”

Jacaerys whimpered, thrilled with the idea.

“Look at him, princess,” Cregan added, stretching his arm and holding Jace's cheek. His thumb brushed against his plump lips. “Our poor Prince has his lips sore after eating your sweet little cunt for too long ”

You observed in awe how your brother parted his lips to receive Cregan's thumb inside his mouth - his tongue twirling around his digit as his brown eyes glint with lust. A moan escaped from you, feeling the arousal pooling on your soaked flesh. The neediness inside your body only increased once you saw your lordship bringing his thumb to his own mouth, and tasting the mixture of your juices and Jace's drool. Your mouth parted, bewitched by the scene.

“Mhm…” he groaned in approval, “it still tastes like you.” He let out a throaty chuckle. “I suppose now it's time for you to give your dear brother a reward for what he did to you. He deserves it after being such a good boy, isn't that right?”

“Yes,” you breathed out, agreeing with him.

“What if… you suck his cock while I fuck you with mine? Doesn't that sound good?” Cregan proposed with a smile.

“Please,” your brother replied before you did.

Cregan looked at you for your consent and you effusively nodded - a satisfied smile appeared on his face.

You sighed tiredly once you felt his arms wrapping around your body and moving you around as if you were his doll. He did it so effortlessly, positioning you on your back with your head almost hanging from the edge of the bed and with a pillow below your hips. You noticed how he signed to your brother and he immediately moved until he was standing in front of your face - his leaking tip just mere inches away from your drooling mouth.

“Spread your legs for me,” Cregan commanded, and you immediately obeyed. Your exposed flesh was burning red, drenching with all the stimulation it had before, glistening under the dim lights of the candles and the fireplace. “So pretty…” he murmured, using his thumb to play with your clit, slowly drawing circles on it - you mewled. “I understand why your brother is so obsessed with you, my princess. You have the prettiest cunt in the whole fucking realm.”

He pulled away, enough to stand up from the bed and get rid of his pants. Seconds later, his hardness stood proudly as he crawled back at you, bouncing with every movement he made until he was towering your smaller frame. Cregan gathered his drool on his mouth to then let it fall right on top of your folds - he spreaded it with the head of his cock and, before you knew it, he was slowly stretching your tightness. Your walls would clamp around him, involuntarily trying to push him out as he struggled to sink deeper into you.

“Seven hells,” he grunted, “you're still struggling to take me, huh? Guess I'll have to fuck you more often then.”

As you felt the air leaving your legs with each thrust, you saw Jacaerys grabbing his cock and giving a few strokes at it. With his tip, he tapped on your swollen lips and you opened wide to receive him too. “There you go…” you heard him saying, before he let you wrap your mouth against him. “Mhm… so good,” he praised you.

The whine that escaped you once Cregan was fully sheathed on you was muffled due to your stuffed mouth. Both men moaned at the same time, looking at your body laying there, ready to be used as they pleased.

Gods, they truly loved their little princess.

Cregan was not being very patient as other times, and he quickly started to pound roughly against you, holding your hips to keep you in place as the movement made you take Jace deeper in your mouth. The youngest man started to move his hips too, unable to be still and longing for more - obsessed with the sight of your breasts bouncing in your chest with each thrust.

The main room in the Winterfell castle soon was filled with desperate panting and moaning. The sound of Cregan's body slamming against yours was buzzing in your ears while he managed to hit every right place inside your soft walls, abusing that sweet spot that would make you see stars behind your eyelids. All while you were choking around Jacaerys' cock, who was moving himself deeper with each passing second.

Both of your brother's hands wrapped around your throat to find some stability, this gesture made you cry out in pleasure - loving the way you felt with his hands around your neck.

“Come on, little one,” he grunted as he looked down at your drooling mouth, receiving him so eagerly while you gagged and gulped around him. “I know you can take me deeper… Go on- oh fuck, just like that… shit.”

“Who would've thought that our Princess was such a good slut?” Cregan added, breathless as dig his nails on your hips. “Can't wait to marry our little whore and fill her with my seed until she's round with my pups…” The way your walls squeezed him so tightly made him know that you loved the idea too. “Perhaps I'll let your brother fill this cunny too, mhm? Bet you would love it- fuck… ”

Jacaerys hands involuntarily tightened his grip around your throat, and you knew he was getting closer. “Fuck- M’so close…” he whined. “Fuuck…”

“Imagine it, my prince,” Cregan teased him, smirking as he locked eyes with him. “Her pretty cunny leaking with your seed, her belly filled and round. Isn't that such a pretty sight?”

“Y-yes…” he mumbled, struggling to keep his movements steady. “Oh, fuck… yes.”

His eyes closed as he leaned his head back, and suddenly his length escaped from your lips - you gasped. He peaked right there, letting a few drops of his seed spurt on your breasts before he would put his cock back into your mouth so you could swallow the rest. You eagerly licked it all, cleaning him as felt his legs getting weak with the subtle overstimulation you were providing him - yet, it felt too delicious to stop.

“What a piece of art,” Cregan mumbled, seeing your skin being tainted by pearly drops. “So fucking pretty.”

Jacaerys fell on his knees next to you, you felt his hand slipping down your body as Lord Stark pounded against you like a savage. Your brother's fingers found your swollen pearl, slowly stroking it while you were being filled. Cregan groaned in approval, fastening his pace.

The creamy sound of your juices covering his cock was so obscene, bringing a slight embarrassment to you - Gods, you were so wet. With the overstimulation you were receiving once again, you felt closer to edge faster than you thought.

“Come on, my pretty girl,” Jace cooed in your ear as he peppered soft kisses around it. “I know you're so close… you were so good to us, letting us use you as we pleased. You deserve to cum.”

His fingers stopped tracing figures on your clit, only to replace it with soft taps against your sensitive flesh. You mewled.

“Look how deep Cregan is,” he mentioned with a smirk. “I can see it in your tummy…”

“M’so close…” you mumbled. “Gods! Please, I need it so bad…”

Jace removed his hand from your core, taking it to your mouth where he slipped in two fingers. You receive them eagerly, twirling your tongue around it and sucking them off as you taste yourself. Meanwhile, Cregan grabbed the back of your legs, pressing your thighs against your body and going deeper and harder against you. You tried to keep up with the intensity of it all, but it was too much - tears were falling down your face as you were fucked against the mattress, barely able to move.

“Come on, let me feel you, princess,” he grunted as he buried his face on your neck. “Want you to fall apart in my arms…”

Your skin was burning and you were gasping, trying to fill your lungs with the air they needed - Cregan would grunt against your skin, being loud and shameless as he was about to reach his peak. You suddenly felt the waves of an intense orgasm washing over you as you released your pleasure in spurs, soaking the sheets beneath you and your Cregan's hair trail. That sight must have been the limit for him, who immediately filled you up with his seed, covering your insides with his pearly drops until it started to leak out of you.

His body pressed against yours as he tried to calm down. His length would twitch inside you each time you clenched around him, until he was absolutely dried and spent.

Jacaerys went to look for something to clean you up, almost moaning when he saw Cregan pulling out of you and his seed oozing from your entrance. Such an obscene view had both men drooling.

You were too tired to even move, so after they made sure to wipe out the sticky mess between your legs, they grabbed your body and took you to the center of the bed - laying between them. Right in that moment, you felt like you were in heaven, being pampered by the two men you loved the most and receiving all the attention you desired.

The fact that this was your future brought a smile on your face.

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[lovebugism]

fictober idea (if ure up for smut): eddie & reader go to a haunted house. eddie, obviously, gets a boner bc hes a weirdo. reader notices & begs to touch him right here, right now even tho theyve never done anything in public before. so, eddie finds a place to *kinda* hide & reader gets him off, but ofc, eddie cant let reader go without cumming as well.

thanks for requesting :D — eddie gets turned on protecting you at a haunted house, and you obv have to reward him for it (smut 18+, 1.5k)

fictober leftovers (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

Eddie’s been called a freak his whole life. He knew he was different since he could understand what being different meant, and if that made him a weirdo, then so be it. But now he thinks everyone might’ve been right about him. He’s a complete, utter, and total freak.

He walks with you through a haunted house, surrounded by creepy masks and fake blood and your screams, and he’s hard. His dick’s as stiff as a rock and throbbing with a distant ache when most people are scared out of their minds.

It’s all your fault, honestly. You’re clinging to him with an ironclad grip and using him as a shield every time something jumps out at you. Eddie can’t even be scared with you because all he can think about is how masculine he feels protecting you like this. Metalhead freaks like him never get to feel this way — all manly and muscly and brave.

And even though it’s hard to walk while adjusting his pants every five steps, Eddie thinks he’s hiding it pretty well. Well, he was, anyway. Until your ass brushes against his lap, and you clock him immediately.

Trapped in a secluded area of the haunted house, lit up red and blaring the Halloween theme song, you spin around to face him. “Are you hard?” you ask him over the music, face twisted in confusion. You’re not weirded out by it exactly, just genuinely puzzled.

Eddie freezes, chocolate eyes wide. He plays coy despite being caught red-handed. “No.”

You shoot him a deadpanned look, brows raised as you peer at him through your lashes.

He caves. “…Yes.”

“Does scary shit turn you on?” you wonder, laughing softly.

“No!” he responds with a dramatic drawl, sounding more offended than he should be. He is standing rock-hard in the middle of a haunted house, after all. He shifts his weight on his feet and stammers for an answer. “I just… I like being able to protect you and… everything.”

“Aw…” you hum, melting into a puddle at his feet. “That’s kinda sweet, actually.”

Eddie’s visibly surprised by your response. He was prepared to get made fun of at best — slapped and dumped entirely at worst. But here you are, all but admiring how much of a freak your boyfriend is.

“Wait, really?”

You shrug. “Yeah. Especially considering last Halloween, the guy I was dating left me behind at a haunted house.”

“Pussy…” Eddie grumbles under his breath.

“Exactly,” you giggle. “So this is definitely an upgrade.”

Your palms smooth up his chest and over his shoulders. Your fingers entwine behind his neck, halfway embracing him in the middle of the haunt. His hands settle warm and wide on your sides. He squeezes you gently there and lets out a sigh of relief.

“I’m just glad you don’t think I’m a total freak,” he confesses with a forced chuckle. 

“Oh, I definitely think you’re a freak,” you retort in a monotone, then flash him a sickly sweet smile. “I’m just too obsessed with you to care.”

Eddie nods and tries not to smile too wide when you lean in to kiss him. “Noted,” he murmurs.

You do a whole lot more than just kiss him, though. You open his mouth with your own and lick inside with a confident tongue. You take the breath from his lungs with little effort, leaving him more breathless than he has been all night.

“Wanna suck you off,” you murmur, slurred and muffled against his mouth.

He jerks away from you on instinct. He couldn’t hide his shock if he tried. “Huh?” he wonders in a tone that borders on cartoonish. His soft features twist in confusion.

“I need your cock in my mouth like I need to breathe,” you confess with an unabashed groan.

Maybe he wasn’t the freak after all. Maybe this whole time, it was you.

“Well, that’sa tad bit dramatic, but—” You cut off his teasing by fussing with the buckle of his belt. His eyes widen in shock, but he doesn’t try to stop you. “Whoa. Okay. This is… This is great and everything, babe, but there’s— there’s people around. Someone could walk in.”

You look to your left, then to your right. There’s no one here but you and Eddie in this small square room, filled with a fiery red like the warmth swirling in your belly. You blink at him with doe eyes and shrug innocently. “I don’t see anyone.”

Eddie breathes out a laugh, one mixed with amusement and disbelief. “I just don’t wanna us to get caught, babe,” he tells you, smoothing wide palms up and down your arms. “Don’t want you to get in trouble.”

“Do you want a blowjob or not?”

“Well, yeah, but I—”

“Good,” you hum with a smile before sinking to your knees in front of him.

Eddie’s too stunned to stop you. He doesn’t want to stop you.

Bathed in a sinful neon red, you unbutton his pants and free his half-hard cock from the confines of his jeans. You tug at the hem of his underwear until his heavy balls hang over the plaid fabric. 

“Shit,” he mutters when you press a sweet kiss to his weeping tip. He bites back a moan when you swirl your tongue around the bulbous strawberry head. “Shit— you’re so fucking hot.”

You worship his cock like it’s not just some random Tuesday in the middle of a haunted house. You don’t mean to, really, but he’s making such pretty noises for you — little puffs of tiny breaths and small whines he tries desperately to hide from you. 

His thighs twitch every time you run your tongue over the veins on the underside of him, going slow to feel the rapid pulse there. His fingers crawl in your hair, palms settling on your temples — not pushing you or pulling you away, just holding you as you suck gently at his aching cock.

His pink lips are parted, airing out little moans of ecstasy. His chocolate eyes are dark and glazed over in a honeyed look. His hair hangs over his face, wild and desperate to be pulled.

You let his tip linger in your mouth, drool pooling around him and soaking his twitching cock. The feeling makes him moan — a deep, hearty sound that stems from his chest. 

When his lolling head drops back, you take him in your fist. You don’t bother to work him up to a rapid pace. Using the lubrication of your spit, you jerk him with an expert hand and lick away the pearly beads of pre-cum he leaks for you.

“Ah, shit,” he groans, eyes rolled back before he squeezes them shut. “Oh, fuck, babe—”

You’re already opening your mouth for his cum before he can warn you it’s coming. You know him too well. You notice all the telltale signs before you think he does — the whimpers, the shaking thighs, the rambled moans, the way his balls draw slightly upward. You’re ready to accept his warm, salty loads the second he gives them to you. 

Eddie cups your warm cheek with a ringed hand. He tries to tell you he’s cumming, but his whines get in the way. He grunts quietly, tilting his head backward and holding tightly to you as cum pulses weakly from his slit. 

The tang dribbles over your tongue and mouth. You take it all with ease. You make a big show of it, too — lolling your tongue out of your mouth and letting his cum drip onto the softening pudge of his head. Eddie’s whole body twitches when you take his sensitive cock in your mouth again to swallow it down, like a goddamn lightning strike up his spine.

“How’d I—” His voice is hoarse, so he has to stop and clear his throat. You smile, lips swollen and spit-slick, as you tuck his soft cock back into his jeans and button them again. His eyes are half-lidded and darkened when you rise to full height. “How’d I get so fucking lucky with you, huh?”

You make a vague I don’t know sound and shrug your shoulders with an innocent grin. You lean into his palm when he puts his ringed hands on your jaw. 

“Jesus fucking christ— you’re so pretty, baby— fuck.”

He’s just rambling now, still a bit dazed from his orgasm. He kisses you harder than anyone’s ever been kissed before, stealing the air from your lungs with ease. It’s like he’s amazed by his own adoration for you — the sheer intensity of it — the way it makes him stupid enough to let you suck his cock in a poorly hidden spot of a haunted house.

You don’t get caught, though. 

Not really, anyway.

There’s a security camera in front of the door you leave from. You make sure to give it a little wave on your way out.

Eddie holds your hand the entire way back to his van, opening the door for you like a total gentleman. It’s not the passenger side door, though, but rather the one in the very back. 

“What are you doing?” you wonder, all innocent like you still don’t have the taste of his cum in your mouth.

Eddie just grins at you, lopsided and pink and boyish. “Gotta return the favor, don’t I?”

[seonghwaddict]

ateez and their top 3 kinks — masterlist

genre. hc, smut...? rating. mature. warnings. sexual content mdni, yn wears a dress in one part, kinks and stuff, marking, rough-ish, mentions of toys, somnophilia, size kinks, praise, degradation, bdsm themes, public/semi-public sex, breath play, it’s like a lot of kinks. wc. 1.1k.

[ lilo’s notes . . . ] uh yeah i wrote this at 2 in the morning i have no fucking idea why i decided to do this but anyways- enjoy :3

hongjoong

marking. he’d mark you and fucking love to have you mark him… he’s literally so possessive and would never pass the opportunity to physically show people you’re his and he’s yours. hickeys literally everywhere and so many of them you’ll have a hard time covering them up—neck, chest, thighs, back, anywhere.

orgasm control. he’s a natural leader, what he says goes. so, of course, he’d want to be the one to control when you finish. which leads me to my next point.

overstimulation. he personally doesn’t like to be overstimulated but god does he love doing it to you. he loves the whines and twitches as he continue pressing a vibrator against your clit because, let’s be fr, he’d definitely be using plenty of toys (as well as himself).

seonghwa

shibari. i’ve said it once and i’ll say it again and again and again. this man loves nothing more than to tie you up in the most intricate and borderline artistic ways for his own (and your) pleasure.

sensory deprivation. he absolutely loves the trust and vulnerability that comes with this. specifically, he likes to blindfold you and run his hands all over you as lightly as he can, barely brushing over all the spots he knows make you feel good, soft plushy lips ghosting over your skin. and no matter how light it is, you’ll always feel everything ten times more intensely, having nothing else to focus on but his voice and his touch. also, ice cubes.

praise. this is something he’ll incorporate into your everyday lives outside of bedroom a activities. he’ll make sure to tell you you’re doing well while your working on something. gentle head pats and approving nods.

yunho

size kink. this is so obvious but like literally look at him, he makes everyone seem so tiny compared to him. he likes to stare as he pushes his huge dick into you, jaw practically dropping as his huge hands pin your hips to the mattress. speaking of hands…

fingers in mouth…(?) i have no idea if this is an actual kink, but i just know this is so yunho. he’s the type of guy to have you suck your own release off him after he fingers you, getting off on the way your lips wrap around his digits. he would definitely have two fingers or his thumb stuffed in your mouth as he fucks you.

breath play. is it obvious i really like his hands? anyways, i will not be elaborating on this for the sake of my sanity.

yeosang

body worship. is this a seonghwaddict post without body worship being involved in some way? that’s right, no. he’s more into giving the body worship, but when he’s receiving it he becomes the ultimate softie (in my head, he’d be leaning towards being a hard dom tho)

edging. oh he would absolutely love your subtle frustrated huffs every time he stops whatever he’s doing, thinking you look so so cute when you’re desperate and practically begging. and then he’d finally let you finish, giving you the best orgasms you’ve ever experienced.

wax play. usually yeosang is a pretty calm guy outside of the bedroom and he likes to maintain that when it comes to foreplay, building up the anticipation. he specifically likes those candles that melt the wax into massage oil.

san

bondage. i think shibari would also be suitable for san, but he would do it with the usual ropes unlikes seonghwa. additionally, san is totally into marking. bondage/shibari would include exactly that—bruises and rope burns.

locations. ok so i didn’t exactly know what to call this, but he would not give a single shit about where and when he fucks you. backstage during an intermission? you’ll be dragged into a dressing room so he can give you some quick head before going back on stage, someone pounding on the door but he ignores them. at a dinner with some friends, you looking as ravishing as ever? he’ll either discreetly slip his hands up the skirt of your dress to finger you, drag you to a bathroom when no one’s looking, or drag you into the backseat of his car and rip that dress of you. this man has no patience and would rather not wait until you’re in the private confines of your home.

manhandling. he has all those muscles for a reason.

mingi

size kink. the twin towers have very obvious size kinks. like, how could they not? they’re fucking huge.

praise. giving and receiving. mingi likes being told how well he’s doing as much as he likes to be the one telling his partner. he needs the reassurance to make sure what he’s doing feels good for you, he’d hate to hurt you.

somnophilia. ok idk if this counts as it, but he thinks it’s so cute when he fucks you to sleep. his touches and his words and the way he fills you up so gentle soothing it’s like you’re being lulled to sleep. like he’s literally such a softie, okay? he knows his dick game’s good.

wooyoung

humiliation/degradation. giving and receiving. come on guys he basically admitted this already. he would be such a menace in bed, he would coo at you and mock you as he fucks you stupid.

biting. is this even a surprise? he loves to sink his teeth into you as a form of affection, listening to your whimpers and feeling you writhe beneath him as he… multitasks.

dry humping. he doesn’t care that it makes him seem like an inexperienced high schooler making out with his partner. he loves the friction he gets when he slowly grinds against you through your layers of clothing (and he knows you love it too). idk and like he would get desperate at some point, almost there but not quite there yet because it’s not quite enough, and yeah i just like the idea of that.

jongho

sir. he would love to be called sir. or daddy, but i think sir is just so jdjsjhcjsnc like i’m literally pacing in my room as i write this. JUST IMAGINE IT FOR A SECOND PLEASEEE- “please” “please what” “please, sir” “good. very good, darling” AHHHHHHHH

location. couldn’t care less about where he fucks you pt 2. kitchen counter, living room couch, dressing room in a clothing store, in the shower, bathroom stall, up against a wall, the list could literally go on forever.

eye contact. whether it’s forced or not, he thinks eye contact is one of the hottest things. he likes missionary for that exact reason—so he can look you in the eyes, look at you in your fucked out state, as he makes you feel things you know no one else can make you feel.

ot8 (aka things i wanted to give to all of them, with no explanation)

thigh riding.

i want them so bad.

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[freyito]

Hello! How are you?

I got an idea~

Can I request Boothill with the Vidyadhara reader (male, but if you want, you can use gn) ?The reader is always calm and quiet, but gets very nervous and blushes when Boothill flirts with him or hugs him (Secretly he just loves it) . The reader's tail wags nervously. And he also has sensitive horns.

If you don't like the idea, then feel free to skip my request!! (♥´∀｀)／

✭ pairing(s): boothill x male vidyadhara reader

✧ a/n: THIS IS SO CUTE!!!!!!!!! i got it the night before my job interview i think so i owe it all to you anon for getting hired on the spot. my last fic as an unemployed man... i got this job so i could whale for boothill tho. lol.

🗒 cw: male reader, vidyadhara reader, SMALL 2.2 SPOILERS, itty bit of lore building (made the vidyadhara look a little more like the yan siblings from arknights), just fluff, not proofread

✎ wc: 1.4k

ꜱᴄᴀʟᴇꜱ & ᴍᴇᴛᴀʟ

Being a Galaxy Ranger, Boothill is well-read on the species of the universe. Sorta. Given the lack of his education, a lot of what he learned was through word of mouth or having someone explain it to him, aside from text to speech.

Aside from the Galaxy Rangers and his home world, he is the most versed on the Xianzhou, seeing as they follow Lan, as well. But that doesn’t mean he won’t treat it like it isn’t a spectacle, and the Vidyadhara have always been intriguing to him.

He’s only met a couple, namely Dan Heng, and Lady Bailu, the latter only in passing. He’s sure he’s met another somewhere, and there’s surely a Vidyadhara Ranger as well. But none of them stick out to him like you do.

He’s only visiting the Luofu, there to pick up some information about the IPC from some shady courier. He doesn’t mind this, as long as it’s honest work, and he’s been in contact with this courier for quite a while. The benefit of becoming a cyborg is that when his contacts are long life species, he has a trustworthy ally for quite a while.

The problem was, the courier had told him to get it from a cycrane in Aurum Alley. Which was all fine and dandy, normally, Boothill remembered the Alley to be rundown and quiet, dead, even. But when he’s met with a stream of people like it’s a shopping mall (which it is), he was taken aback. How was he supposed to pick up information when the Alley is so… lively? The courier reassures him that it is okay, to not act suspicious, and boy, does Boothill mess that one up.

For the first time ever, he’s fishing out a letter from the cycrane’s box, sweating with the most guilty look on his face, like a dog that had just stolen some food off the counter. He stuck out like a sore thumb, as opposed to the business owners and recipients who frequented the roost. Paired with his outworlder appearance, it’s no wonder that a couple of concerned citizens came forward, even if it was just to watch.

Now, Boothill didn’t want to be considered wanted by the Xianzhou Alliance. Not at all, his deal was with the IPC and he’d rather not have the cloud knights tailing him whenever he visited. But all thought processes stop when he spots you. Whatever price the Cloud Knights puts on his head for this info is nothing in comparison to just how stunning you look to him.

He does his best to brush this incident off as not being able to find mail, and decides a couple more days on the Loufu wouldn’t be too bad. He spends the next few days attempting to court you, as he says. Really, it’s just over pretentious flirting. You do your best to ignore it at first, you think he’s just some awe-struck outworlder, but each day that goes by, your walls crumble.

You don’t return anything really, simply give him little looks and grin and bear it. But every time he says ‘Ain’t you a pretty thing?’ whenever you simply enter his line of sight, you start to feel your cheeks heat up.

Of course, Boothill notices. And he only increases his antics. You’d be attending to your duties in the skyfaring commission and he shows up to interrupt your shift, throwing all sorts of cheesy one-liners that make your head spin. There are times where you just can’t keep up and you blush so hard you fizzle out, your mind working on auto-pilot and making you turn away on your heels.

He starts to show up on your breaks, too. With food he’d think you’d like, (which is any food he buys on the Xianzhou, essentially) and the gifts start there. It’s… thoughtful, really. When he can, he shows up to Xianzhou with something in hand from wherever he’s been. It can be a rock to the most coat you’ve seen. Which, he learns, clothes aren’t exactly the thing to buy you. Not that you would look bad in them, but he decides that Xianzhou attire really does fit you. It is then that he notices the color that extends from your claws to your bicep, and he realizes that you’re ‘pretty all over’. (His words, which don’t fail to make you red in the face.)

When he starts giving gifts, that’s when your tail starts wagging. You curse your body for betraying your want to be calm and collected, which ultimately leads to a life bound by how easy it is to fluster you. Of course, Boothill notices. He thinks it is just too cute, and good Aeons, it takes him all his strength not to cup your face and say that directly to you, to make sure you hear him. Not that he won’t say it regardless.

With all of these instances, he only becomes more insufferable. And you find yourself falling for his charms. It isn’t so bad that you have someone to eat with on your breaks, and someone who’s so eager to see you when you’re working, (even if it disrupts your work Madame Yukong seems okay with it) even if he’s a very high-profile target.

And boy, he can TELL. You’re still a flustered mess around him, anytime he calls you cute, or handsome, or pretty, any silly little pet name like ‘buttercup’ or even just ‘darlin’’, your tail is wagging furiously. You do your best to hide your sheepish smile and your blushing face, but Boothill always finds a way around it. At some point, he starts grabbing your hands and pulling them away from your face, staring into your eyes. That is the death of you.

From then-on, it seems you two are semi-official. Boothill wants so badly to ask you to be his boyfriend, but he lays back with just how shy you are. He pampers you, takes you out on all sorts of dates, from just shopping to the most romantic little tea dates, where the artificial sun sets and it feels like it’s just you two. He loves it, he revels in your reactions. Ever time your cheeks are dusted pink, to where your tail won’t stop wagging that it feels like a hazard, he’s laughing it off and making it even worse.

He grows bolder with touching, too. He starts to greet you at your work with back-hugs, whispering little compliments in your ear while your tail wags, a distinct ‘wap, wap, wap’ sounding everytime it hits the leather of his chaps. He blows kisses at you when you have to focus on your work, he holds your hand any chance he gets, he plays with your hands, too. Compliments the color of your scales, traces your palm, anything and everything that can and will make you blush more. Doesn’t matter if you two are months into this flirting, he’s got you blushing.

The day Boothill plans to ask you to be his official boyfriend, he gets overly interested in your horns. Standing outside the Skyfaring Commission, he catches you before your shift starts. The artificial sun is just rising, and the streets are empty. He stands in front of the Commission, hat off and held to his chest. It’s like a scene out of a movie, really. He starts off with your name, slowly slipping from his tongue, his twang much heavier now, reaching out to you. It feels like his eyes are sparkling– like the world is sparkling, more like. He’s akin to a…. What's the name… Knight of Beauty. You heard the trailblazer talking about them with Yukong.

Your head spins, and all you can stammer out is a ‘y-yes!’ in the middle of his speech. You can’t tell if you can’t take it anymore with how warm your body is running, or if you’re just… eager. Both feel equally embarrassing. Before he can kiss you to seal the deal, he runs a steel finger against one of your horns. A jolt of electricity runs down your body, making you yelp and whine, and in the middle of that, he kisses you, holding his hat up to shield your faces from the few people out this early. It’s a soft kiss, just as romantic as his silly display of want, and he smiles against your lips. His hand comes down, slightly carding through your hair, to cup your cheek.

You try to walk off your embarrassment as you enter the Commission, taking note to text him later about what just went down. Of course, Yukong notices, but all she gives you is a soft chuckle and a smile. Thank Lan.

© freyito, 2024 | masterlist | queue | kofi | star header by roseschoices

DO NOT REPOST AS YOUR OWN, REPOST ON ANY OTHER PLATFORM, OR USE FOR AI/AI CHATBOTS.

[scented-morker]

Enha when their idol!partner has a wardrobe malfunction

established relationship, gg!reader, 857 words, requested!!

Heeseung

He was so happy to see you performing his eyes were literally glued to your every move

Sorry to your members, you're basically a soloist to him

But this means he noticed immediately

Honestly he knew it was gonna happen before it did— the strap on your top kept getting tight and digging into your shoulder during the more powerful parts of the dance and he knew it wasn’t gonna hold up

And behold, mid dance break it snapped

He felt so bad that he couldn’t do anything to help

Afterwards he gives you lots of kisses and comfort, telling you how professional you were and how he didn’t even notice

Jay

Mans is STRESSED

Literally he said something before you even went on stage about how flimsy your strap looked

And it was worse bc it was a one shouldered top and the other side had like the clear one

Which means when the one broke your shirt stayed on but the whole fabric flapped down

Literally the worst fear of your life, you thought you were about to flash the whole audience 🫣

His jaw is CLENCHED

Literally so so tense the entire rest of your performance

Complains after about how irresponsible your stylists were while stroking your hair and complimenting you

Jake

Poor guy is just so confused

He was so busy staring at your pretty face he didn’t even notice your outfit

He saw your eyes widen and then the panic set in

and he’s just like ?? What happened

It isn’t until you go to sing your solo part and you’re literally using your hands to hold the front of your shirt up that he realizes

FREAKS OUT

Literally turns to the boys next to him and is like

Yn’s shirt broke?? Did you see that?? What happened??

Afterwards he gives you his jacket to wear over the broken top (even tho your manager yells at him)

“Baby don’t even worry about it! The audience would have been so lucky to get flashed by you!!”

Sunghoon

Hoon.exe has stopped working

He is FROZEN in the audience watching you keep performing

In his mind he’s trying to think of anything that he can do to help but there just isn’t anything

Like in his head he’s all “if I run up on the stage and jump in front of them-”

But he knows he can’t so he just stares while internally screaming

Finally feels like he can breathe again when one of your members fixes your zipper but doesn’t fully relax until you’re off the stage

Doesn’t even bring it up when he sees you after because he doesn’t want you to be embarrassed, but if you bring it up he’ll just brush it off like “What wardrobe malfunction? I didn’t even notice.”

But he secretly treats the member who helped you onstage 😆

Sunoo

He’s so animated

Like he lets out a literal gasp when it happens and covers his mouth with his hands, eyes all wide and panicked

Gestures to his shoulder to try and tell you that your strap broke (AS IF YOU DIDNT ALREADY KNOW)

He can tell you’re really upset about it, noticing how your eyes are really shiny during your ending fairy

He’s so sweet when he sees you after

Bone crushing hug, and he’s not gonna let you go until you’re feeling better

Will let you cry on him if you want, but spends the whole time whispering reassurances in your ear about how good you were and how well you handled it 🥹

Jungwon

He did not trust your top AT ALL

It was a summery little halter top, but it tied at the back of your neck and that was it, no security straps or anything

When he sees your shirt start to droop he immediately realizes it’s come untied, but you don’t notice until it’s practically falling off

He’s literally like vibrating in his seat, he’s so stressed bc WHY WOULD YOUR STAFF THINKS THATS A GOOD IDEA???

Proud of your leader when she pauses to retie it onstage, even if it messed your timing up a bit

He’s mad FOR YOU afterwards, and makes sure to repeatedly tell you that it wasn’t your fault

From that day on he visits before every single performance to tie your top himself

He will MAKE SURE it’s not coming untied again

Riki

He was so focused on your dancing that he didn’t notice at first

Like “okay yn get it yes slay”

And then all the sudden you’re only dancing halfway bc you’re using one hand to LITERALLY HOLD YOUR SHIRT CLOSED

Like it tied in the back and came undone and now you’re just holding on for dear life

He makes a surprised pikachu face like 😮

Because how does that even happen? Like yeah the boys have had issues before but not a whole shirt about to fall off???

Of course you’re FREAKING out after and he’s just like “your dancing was so powerful even your shirt couldn’t handle it”

But that’s all he says about it, opting to distract you instead— playing games together and goofing around to make you feel better

[eumppattv]

𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐁𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐑 𝐂𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐇 | ot7 enha

pairing idol! enha x idol! reader genre ᩍ fluff warnings none ➜ masterlist enha permanent taglist here!! a/n: requests are open!

heeseung ☆ ⊹ ๑

this boy is actually so excited, even though he wouldn’t say it out loud. the members would find him smiling randomly through out the week. he was so excited to see you that he went to sleep early, wanting it to be the next day already. he wore his best outfit, sprayed his best cologne, and walked into the recording studio with confidence. he immediately saw you, and his cheeks got red- but he was playing it cool. he would definitely compliment you the whole time, with the biggest smirk.

jay ☆ ⊹ ๑

no one would be able to tell what he felt when they announced your collab. he was very serious, saying things like “yeah that’ll be good for us” or “they’re talented”- but with the straightest face ever. then heeseung let out a soft “they’re hot too” and jay lost it. he scolded heeseung about how he spoke about you, and how it’s disrespectful. whole time heeseung is like uhh don’t forget i’m older than you buddy. when you got to the studio, jay did not even look in your direction. he was so shy, but every time you sang he had the biggest smile on his face.

jake ☆ ⊹ ๑

he was so excited, he spent all night talking about what you would be like in person. sunghoon was so tired of him constantly talking about how amazing your voice was, and how he was so ready to meet you. jake even came up with the idea of bringing a present for you, and the members (knowing he had a crush on you), told him he should be the one to get it. so he pulled up to the studio with a nice little gift, and almost died when your hands brushed against his. he was blushing the whole time, and even had to excuse himself to the restroom to calm down.

sunghoon ☆ ⊹ ๑

similar to jay, he did not look in your direction. when he found out about the collab, he shut down on the inside. he was thinking about what to say, how to act, he was going crazy. but he kept it all inside, and decided to just be chill about it. the day of, his hands were so sweaty and he was extra quiet, to which the members took notice of. he would awkwardly greet you, then just stick around in the corner while you record. you would make a joke and he’d laugh, then he’d ask his members on the way home if he laughed too hard. just a straight up over-thinker.

sunoo ☆ ⊹ ๑

honestly seems to be the one to be able to hide it the most. i don’t think the members would even know he has a crush on you. he would definitely just strike up a conversation with you, and you’d seem like besties. while everyone else stays back, sunoo would be laughing with you, and i think you’d even exchange phone numbers by the end of the day. it’s only when they’re on the way back that he would blurt out a “y/n was so pretty right?” and he would be all red. everyone would be shocked, and immediately start questioning him.

jungwon ☆ ⊹ ๑

he had to go into leader mode when he got told, so he stayed quiet for the most part. then the night before he panicked, so he sat down with jay and basically confessed his feelings for you. jay encouraged him to just talk to you, because duh he was the leader so he’d have to anyways. then he got to the studio, and he was a little hesitant to walk in. but he did, and he shook your hand hoping you wouldn’t feel it shaking. he tried to talk to you, but he only ended up saying a couple words. before he left tho, he did tell you he would love to see you again, before he ran away.

ni-ki ☆ ⊹ ๑

he really just wants to disappear. he was so excited when he found out you’d be collabing with them, but he could not take the teasing from everyone. like jake, he would not stop talking about you, except he’s been doing it for months now. when he gets to the studio, he hides behind everyone- except he’s the tallest so you could clearly see him. he would be in awe, and forget to introduce himself. throughout the whole recording session, he’s just admiring you from afar. then jay told him it’s not polite to stare, so he didn’t look your way the rest of the day.

🝮 taglist open!

@avocarua @kpoprhia @haechansbbg @yeehawnana @lilly-bubblelops @aishigrey @gweoriz @soul-is-a-strange-kid

[aerynwrites]

Scars

Halsin x afab!Reader

A/N: some friends and I were talking in discord and one of them gave me permission to use this wonderful idea! I hope y’all enjoy ❤️

Word count: 2.6k

Warnings: major insecurity in reader regarding scars, talks of self hatred, self depreciation, all is comforted tho, hurt/comfort, canon typical violence, partial nudity, fluff, kisses, love confessions.

The battles are done, the enemies defeated, and yet it feels like the work doesn’t quite end there.

This battle was harder than the rest, bending and breaking all of you more than expected. So much so that blood still oozes and bones still need mending despite the healing spells Shadowheart was able to bestow upon your group. Even her magic was depleted leaving her with the the rare wounds to show for it.

Return to camp has become a habitual affair, those that are able, help the companions wounded before everyone returns to their tents for the night.

You, however, slink off on your own from the get go, avoiding the healing hands in favor of your own mediocre care.

It’s better for you this way. Safer. At least mentally. The small river a short distance from camp has become your solace. Far enough away to seclude you but close enough that if danger were to arise, help would be close by.

You’ve come here after most battles, rinsing off in the clear water before tending to your own wounds as best you can, too ashamed to ask anyone for help - too scared to bare yourself before them.

Especially since a certain druid joined your team.

Before Halsin had come along you’d been able to slip away with no questions asked. Every now and then Shadowheart would tease you about how she could get the job done quicker but it would end there. Now…now it’s like you can feel Halsins stare each time you leave camp, his offers of help being brushed off with a flippant wave of your hand.

You enjoy his company. More than enjoy it really - so much so that a small crush has started to develop for the larger man. A part of you has longed to accept his offers of help, longed to open up to him in a way you have to no one else.

Yet, each time, the acceptance dies on your tongue and you tuck your tail and run. Just like you always have.

You sigh as you approach the waters edge, stripping down to nothing but your under things in order to sit on a rock submerged below the water enough that you can rinse away the muck of battle in order to assess the damage.

It’s the same process as always. Rinse off, tend to any wounds then dress and head back to camp. But tonight proves more difficult.

You have more injuries than normal, which means more stitching - a task proving difficult due to what you assume is a larger wound on your back. You’d taken a nasty blow to the shoulder towards the end of the skirmish and now it aches terribly and refuses to move the way you need in order to tend to yourself properly.

With a wince, you reach behind you with your good arm and try to feel for the wound, hissing and snatching your hand back when it brushes over the edge of what seems to be a nasty gash.

You’ll never be able to reach that on your own.

Muttered curses slip past your lips, as you turn to focus on the things you can fix instead. However, just as you move to tend to the shallow claw marks on your arm the all too close snap of a twig startles you.

Your head whirls to look behind you, and your eyes widen in mortification to see Halsin standing several yards away.

“Halsin! What are you doing-“ you cut yourself off as you reach for your shirt on the bank behind you, desperate to cover up before he can see anymore.

Before he can think you’re hideous.

The thought is fleeting, but drives your actions all the same.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to startle you,” Halsin finally speaks, holding out placating hands, as if dealing with a scared animal.

His words stall your movement just long enough for you to notice that the large elf isn’t looking at you. Instead his head is turned off to the side as if he doesn’t want to intrude on your privacy if it’s not wanted.

Your shirt hangs limply in your hands before you gather it to your chest. “What are you doing here?”

With his head still turned away, Halsin clears his throat. “I know you prefer to tend to your injuries yourself, but I saw the wound on your back when you all returned from camp. I only came to offer my help - and if you refuse I will turn now and leave you in peace.”

The air is silent as his words settle between you, and you open your mouth to give your typical refusal before stopping short.

You do need help. There’s no way you’ll be able to take care of the injury on your own. Not properly anyways. And infection is dangerous - even with healers around to help.

You let out a soft sigh, turning back to face the water, your shirt still clutched tightly to your front like some sort of lifeline.

“That’s - yes. I can’t…I can’t reach it on my own,” you admit softly, trying not to quake in shame as you hear his soft footfalls approach.

The thud of his boots in the grass and quiet splash of water is the only thing that lets you know how close he is, your eyes still trained on the river in front of you.

Soon you feel a presence at your back, and Halsins voice meets your ears once more.

“May I touch you?”

The question is simple, yet it ignites a bitterness you hadn’t realized was there. “You have to in order to treat me, don’t you?”

If Halsin reacts to your snappy reply, he doesn’t say anything, instead you feel him settle onto the rock behind you, water rippling between your bodies as a gentle hand rest on your shoulder

“It is ideal, yes, but I will not force my help upon you if you do not wish it.”

His breath is warm against your neck, and you can’t suppress the shudder that runs through you. Shame wells in you again, but this time at yourself. He’s just trying to help and you’re letting your own insecurities - your own self hatred spew at the wrong person.

“I’m sorry, yes - it’s fine. I’m not…used to this is all. I don’t like people seeing me like…like this,” your admission is a soft, broken thing, almost lost amongst the babbling water if it weren’t for Halsin’s close proximity.

He lets out a low hum just as you feel the unfamiliar warmth of healing magic along your back, seeing the golden glow from the corner of your eye.

“A good healer would never shame those needing his help,” he tells you, the hand on your shoulder giving you a reassuring squeeze. “My aid is available whenever you require.”

You shake your head, a scoff slipping past your lips. “That’s not…thank you.”

Your initial words die on your lips, the true reason for your hesitance unwilling to reveal itself so soon. And if Halsin notices your deflection he doesn’t say anything, instead he lets silence fill the air between you until finally that comforting warmth disappears from your skin, the glow dissipating.

“Is there anything else I can help with?”

The automatic refusal sits on your tounge once more but you stop yourself, instead moving to hold up your other arm, showing him the claw marks that have already started to scab.

“Of course,” he says and you can hear him shift behind you. “Would you be comfortable facing me?”

You nod, and for the first time you find yourself telling the truth. For the first time in as long as you can remember you feel some semblance of safety with someone seeing you like this.

Slowly you turn to face the druid, finally letting the shirt you were holding drop from your grip, tossing it back to shore. You still have your underwear on, and you’re sure the man before you had seen worse.

Once you’re settled, you find yourself fave to face with Halsin for the first time tonight, and the first thing you notice is his smile.

It’s a tiny thing, small and reassuring and kind. An emotion you’re not used to seeing in this state of undress.

He gently takes your arm in his hand and applies the same treatment as before. Magic emits from his palm, wrapping your arm in small tendrils of golden light as the healing warmth envelops you once more.

“Will there be scars?”

The question falls from your lips before you can stop it, and you watch as Halsin’s brow furrows.

“This one should leave minimal scarring, if any at all. The creatures claws did not dig deep. But the wound on your shoulder was…” he pauses. “Even magic cannot overpower nature at times. It will most likely leave a mark,” he smiles again, “but you do not seem a stranger to those.”

His words cut deep, hitting you where you know he doesn’t mean too. But your shame, your insecurity rears it’s ugly head again, and you yank your arm from his grip - the magic dispelling as his touch does.

“You don’t have to be an ass about it,” you hiss, moving to stand uncaring of your half healed wound, or the way you teeter on unsteady feet.

“Wait,” a strong hand reaches to capture your own before you can leave. “I meant no offense, truly.”

His words cause you to pause, and you reluctantly turn to look down at where he still sits in the water. His smile is gone, lips downturned and eyes pleading.

“Then what did you mean if not to make fun of my disfigurement - of the very things I hate most.”

Halsin stands to join you, eyes searching your own until he has his feet beneath him and then your hands clasped in his own.

“I did not think it was something you felt ashamed of or I would not have made the jest. I apologize for not treading more carefully but…” he pauses again, weighing his words. “Your scars…they are nothing to be ashamed of.”

You want to laugh, can feel it bubbling up in your chest. A bitter, nasty little sound that wants to make itself known. But you choke it down, the weight of his words helping you to do so.

“But they’re…ugly. Hideous. I’ve heard it enough throughout my life that…it must be true.” Your words are broken, reflecting exactly how you feel inside. How you’ve felt for so long.

Quickly a hand comes up to cradle your cheek, thumb wiping away tears you hadn’t even realized started to fall.

Halsins mouth is set in a thin line, eyes serious as he guides you to look at him.

“Whoever whispered those lies into your ears deserves a fate worse than the Oak Father can give,” he tells you, eyes falling down to take you in entirely. “Nature may be beautiful, but it is far from perfect - and sometimes it is far from merciful.”

Slowly, he takes drops his hand from your cheek, instead taking your hand in his and guiding your arm upwards. He uses his other hand to begin tracing the scars that cascade across your skin, some small and some large - all with different stories.

His fingers are gentle, barley a whisper on your skin as they travel upwards towards your shoulder and eventually he turns you to face away from him again, his fingers continuing their journey down your back.

“Scars are a part of one’s life, just as nature intended. They tell the story of where life has taken you, of where you’ve been.”

His breath ghosts against your shoulder and a shiver runs through you as his lips ghost over the scar of the wound he just healed.

“Some may have more than others, but that just means their stories are easier to read,” he comes around to your front again, looking down at you with a reverence you’ve never seen before.

“Would you look upon my face and call me hideous for the scars I bear?”

Your heart leaps into your throat, eyes widening. “No! Of course not, you’re…I think you’re…beautiful.”

Halsin smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Then why can you not show yourself the same kindness?”

“I-I don’t know. I’ve never…thought about it like that.” You say honestly, eyes casting downwards.

Halsin quickly redirects your attention, bringing up his arm and removing one of his bracers, showing yet another scar. It’s white and faded with time but you can tell it was from a terrible wound that was never treated properly.

“I received this one early in my youth. I thought myself a proper druid, ready to take on even the toughest foes. However, a displacer beast was quick to show me otherwise. I was left with a scar and a lesson learned, encouraging me to not only work hard to attune with nature and its magic but to step back and think before charging head first into a situation.”

His words are wise, and you find yourself studying the scar with curiosity rather than disgust as you have with your own.

The next while continues on like this, Halsin slowly showing you his scars and telling the stories behind them. Eventually you both end up sitting on the bank to dry as the stories continue. And eventually, he gets you to open up too - staring with small mundane scars and stories before eventually revealing the scars you hated most and what led to them. Except…as the night goes on, you find the hatred giving way to nostalgia. Some of them came from memories that make laughter bubble in your chest. Like the time an old childhood friend wanted to try to knock an apple from your head with an arrow but instead left you with a scar on your temple and a fear of inexperienced archers. Or the time you had slipped in the river trying to catch frogs with that same friend and gained a scar on your knee.

Another pleasant story had just finished and Halsin smiled at you, eyes crinkling at the corners in the way you’ve come to admire.

“See, your scars, no matter how much you may detest them, tell your story - each one a different page.” Slowly he takes your hand in his own, placing a gentle kiss to your knuckles. “And I would be happy to know each and every one if you’ll let me.”

His words make butterflies erupt in your stomach and heat rush to your cheeks as you nod.

“It might take a while,” you gesture to yourself, “there’s…lots of pages.”

If it’s even possible, his grin widens. “All the better - it just means more time spent with you.”

You move before you can think, acting on what little bit of courage has gathered in your chest as you lean towards him and press a quick kiss to his lips. You move to retreat, just in case you have read the signs wrong. But a warm hand comes up to rest at the back of your neck, keeping you in place as he kisses you back.

His lips are warm and gentle against yours and you feel like you might melt into a puddle right here. But your elation is cut just short as Halsin pulls away, gazing at you happily.

“You are beautiful,” he says softly, “enough to rival nature itself. Please come to me if you ever need to be reminded of that.”

Suddenly bashful, you give him a small nod before leaning into him again, but this time just to rest your head on his shoulder as your arms slip around his middle. Halsin returns the embrace, strong arms slipping around you and cocooning you in a comforting warmth.

You still have a long way to go, but with Halsin at your side…the journey might be a little more bearable.

[b0r3dtod3ath]

requests for happy logan fics you say? 👀

i shall request happy logan, um i dont really have a good idea of anything tho

if u need a more solid idea maybe a younger grid kid reader x logan and um here are some possible prompts

"I don't procrastinate really, it's just that when I do, I prefer to do it last minute, that's all."

"I'm always right because who else will be?"

"I have a confession to make, and it's not going to be easy to hear. You just can't get mad okay?" (cue the confession being of the stupidest thing imaginable)

sorry theyre bad, my brain is literally refusing to function right now. have a nice day!

an: thank you for the request! i went with the third prompt. i hope you don't mind changing it so reader is a driver (it just suited the story better in my head). it's quite short as i haven't been writing for a while.

The rookie trio of 2023 was inseparable. Oscar, you and Logan knew each other since you were kids and joining Formula 1 at the same time made the bond between the three of you even deeper. But what many people didn’t know, you and Logan have been dating since the end of the season. One of the people that didn't know was Oscar.

At first the rush of adrenaline that accompanied hidden glances and stolen moments was exciting but for the long run it became exhausting. You couldn’t shake off the feeling that you were constantly lying to one of your closest friends.

As the clock struck midnight you heard a soft knock on your hotel room door. A shared tradition between you and Logan. Within seconds you opened the door just wide enough to let him slip inside. “I missed you today,” he whispered, his voice barely audible, as if scared to be heard by others in this silent hotel. His hands slid down your back, pulling you closer.

“I missed you too. But we can’t keep sneaking around like this forever, you know.” you ruffled his hair as he looked at you. “I know, We have talked about it. We are not teenagers anymore, but I’m scared of how Oscar will react”. Logan laid on your bed and set an early morning alarm to leave your room unnoticed. “But it’s starting to feel like we’re living two separate lives. I don’t want us to keep hiding who we are from everyone, especially Oscar. We’re not going to lose him, we just have to trust that he’ll understand. That he’ll see how much we care about each other” you responded.

Logan’s arms wrapped around you, pulling you down beside him. He held you close, his chin resting on top of your head as you laid together in the quiet room. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat under your ear was a comforting reminder that you were in this together. “We’ll talk to him before the summer break starts.” Logan murmured after a long silence, his voice filled with determination. Logan kissed the top of your head, his arms tightening around you. “No matter what happens, I love you,” he said softly, his breath warm against your skin. “I love you too,” you replied, scared of your friend’s reaction.

Later that month, the three of you sat at a nice restaurant as a way to close a race weekend. Oscar had been in a good mood all night, cracking jokes and telling stories. You and Logan shared a few anxious glances as you sat at the table, trying to enjoy the lighthearted atmosphere before everything changed.

As Oscar finished recounting a particularly funny story about his engineer Logan squeezed your hand discreetly, offering silent support. "Oscar," you began, your voice steady but your heart racing. "I have a confession to make, and it's not going to be easy to hear. You just can't get mad, okay?". Oscar raised an eyebrow, the smile fading slightly from his face as he sensed the seriousness in your tone. He looked at Logan’s still face, suspicion slowly creeping in. "What’s going on?" he asked, his voice cautious. Logan brushed your hand with his thumb to ease the nerves a bit. "Logan and I... we've been seeing each other, like romantically. For more than half a year now”.

There was a moment of stunned silence as the words hung in the air. Oscar blinked, slightly taken aback. "What? You and Logan?" He leaned back in his chair, processing the information. "And I didn't know?".

"It’s not that we didn’t want to tell you," Logan cut in, his voice calm yet apologetic. "We just… we didn’t want it to change anything between the three of us. We didn’t want to risk our friendship. It is very stupid of us”.

Oscar stared at the two of you, his expression unreadable. You felt a lump form in your throat, fearing the worst. "You two have been together all this time, and I had no idea”. A few moments passed before a small smile tugged at the corner of Oscar's mouth. "I can’t believe you managed to keep it a secret for that long," he said with a hint of admiration. "You know, I thought something was going on a few times, but I just brushed it off. You two did a good job hiding it or I’m just really stupid to not notice two of my best friends dating".

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you had been holding. "So… you’re not mad?". Oscar shook his head, his smile growing. "Oh, no, no. Don’t worry. I’m not mad. I’m happy for you both. I mean, it’s a little weird now knowing you are dating, but as long as you’re happy, that’s what matters”. Relief washed over you as Logan grinned "Thanks, man. We were really worried about how you'd react”. Oscar rolled his eyes, but his face projected warmth "I’m not that scary, am I?". 

August 14, 2024

[leighsartworks216]

Just A Trim

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

I had this idea like this morning or last night, I don't remember. And then I was not physically/mentally able to write until the sudden Need To Write hit me and I cranked this out

When writing this, I noticed I kept making references to Tav being shorter, but bc I want this to be enjoyed by everyone, I took them out. Pls let me know if I missed any instances of it tho

Ending loosely inspired by this scene from Big Fish

Warnings: scissors, brief references to low self-worth, anxiety, pure fluff

Word Count: 1,287

Main Masterlist

First Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist - Second Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

Astarion didn’t trust his hair with just anybody. Pulling on it during sex? Okay. Playing with it while cuddling? It takes him a bit to actually trust someone enough to enjoy it. Washing it? Absolutely off the table. Cutting it? Out of question, and he’d probably insult you for asking.

So when he came to you, frowning and grumbling, and struggled through grit teeth to ask if you would please help him cut his hair? That meant something.

You tried not to let your glee show as you dropped whatever you were working on and followed him into your shared bathroom. He plopped onto the edge of the tub like a pouting child who’d just got a good telling-to after misbehaving. He held the scissors up for you to take.

“If you cut my ears, darling, I’m going to make you regret the day you were ever born.” He glares over his shoulder as you step into the tub behind him, rolling up your sleeves and taking the scissors. “And don’t you dare do anything funny. All I need is a simple trim. I assume you’re capable enough to manage that?”

You smiled as he growled at you like an annoying customer. You lean down and gently kiss his cheek. “I promise I’ll only take a little bit off.”

There’s an unspoken conflict on his face. He’s not sure he actually wants you to go through with this… But he’s sort of out of options. Any salons nearby closed before the sun went down, and he definitely did not trust any of your past traveling companions to do the job. No. He’d just have to trust you. He sighs and faces forward. “Just… be careful.”

“I will, my love.”

It had been difficult to notice during the course of your adventure together, but his hair did grow. Not as fast as yours, but curls that delicately curled around the edges of his ears now almost completely covered them, like strangling vines. You’d heard him cuss too many times when a strand got caught in his earrings and tugged when he went to brush the hair from his face. The curl that lay persistently over his forehead now brushed his upper eyelid. Very frequently, he would huff and fight to push it back, with nothing to show for it.

With gentle, smooth motions, you combed your fingers through his hair. Your nails lightly scratched at his scalp, running from his hairline to the nape of his neck, and carefully untangling any knots all the while. You heard his quiet sigh, and saw his shoulders begin to relax. You pressed a kiss to his head.

Assessing his full head of hair, you figured out where to begin. You separated out a section, trying to determine how long it used to be, so you knew how short to cut it now. He tensed again.

“I’m going to start cutting it now, okay?” He hummed, short and anxious. You pressed a hand to his shoulder. “Relax, dear. I’ve got you.”

“It’s difficult to when you have the means to turn me into a glorified clown.”

“But I won’t.”

He sighed. “I know.”

You wait for him to relax again, and he nods slightly. You take the scissors to the first section of hair. With a shink, a small clump of hair falls into the tub. The sound certainly doesn’t fill him with confidence, but he trusts you won’t mess it up too bad…

You begin talking about your friends, about the letters they’ve sent lately keeping you updated with their lives. Apparently, Gale sent some interesting information regarding potential cures for his vampirism - though most of it was only on temporary remedies. “In good time,” you’d assured him when he groaned. Stepping into the sun again would be nice, but an end to his sanguine hunger would be better.

It takes a while to cut all his hair, especially with how meticulous you’re being. You give special attention to the hair around his ears, making sure not to nick him. You step out of the tub and in front of him while you cut the stubborn curl there, where you catch it before it can fall into his lap, and deposit it in the basin. He can’t help watching you then. You have such determination and focus on the task at hand. Only once the curl is trimmed do you actually see him staring, and you smile and peck his lips. He rather enjoyed that.

As you go through each section, you consistently run your fingers through his hair. It’s the most relaxing bit, and he’s certainly glad he asked you for this. He would die before Gale ever got his grubby mitts anywhere near his hair.

By the time you finish, his eyes are closed. He listens to your chatter, to the random tunes you hum, to the way you hold your breath as you make a cut. It’s rather peaceful, despite the underlying nervousness to it all. He can’t see himself. All he can hope is you make him look nice.

You brush your fingers through his hair to knock loose any stray strands. It falls like snow by your feet. Satisfied with your work, you begin running water for a bath, kicking the hair down the drain before you plug it to fill the tub.

“Done, love?”

“Mhm!” You lean around to kiss his cheek again. “You can take a bath, wash all the hair off, and I can get you some fresh clothes.”

He grins. He stands and turns to face you, taking your hands in his and running his thumbs along your knuckles. He’s worried, anxious, but he tries not to let it show. “How do I look?” he asks with a careful bravado, tilting his head to the side, chin upturned, like a haughty nobleman.

You let go of his hand to cup his cheek. He automatically leans into it, mask slipping ever so slightly to reveal his worry. “You look beautiful. I think I did a rather fine job.”

“‘Rather fine?’ Oh, darling,” he lilts, “for your sake, I’d better look the spitting image of perfection.”

“You always do.” It’s earnest. A solid fact to oppose the teasing of his words.

He cannot prevent the true smile that tugs the corners of his mouth as he leans in to claim yours, tasting and nipping and teasing with soft sighs of content. You are much too good to him, but he doesn’t say that out loud, lest you lecture him and treat him to endless spoils until he believes it himself.

He reluctantly pulls away, but his lips continue to brush yours. “Bathe with me.”

You open your eyes to study his face. “Are you sure?”

“Undoubtedly.”

A mischievous spark glints in the corner of your eye as you grin wickedly. “Do I get to wash your hair?”

He chuckles. “Don’t push it.”

You hum. “Would you wash mine?”

“Whatever you want, my love.”

“I want… to turn off the tap before our bathroom floods.” You pull away and he has to laugh as you wade through the water to stop the steady stream. The warm water reaches just below your knees. You sigh, but the annoyance is dampened by your grin. “Look what you’ve done - distracting me like that. Now my pants are all wet.”

“All wet?” He makes a show of looking you up and down. “I don’t know, love. I see quite a few dry spots.”

Without warning, he steps into the large tub, still in his own clothes, and grabs you, pulling you down with him into the water. Your laughter fills the house. Astarion has never been more in love.

---

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