#and I know for a fact my manager will back me up so like if you're feeling froggy then jump

[bahablastplz]

Prove it: Seungmin x Reader

Kim Seungmin, your best friend, is so fucking smug all the time. You make the mistake of implying that no man can finger a girl the way they do in porn, and you make the mistake of challenging him when he tells you he can. Content: Smut Warnings: Fingering, slightly mean Seungmin, degradation WC: 1700

“Porn isn’t real.” Seungmin blinked at you from where he sat on the other end of the couch, unamused. The TV was playing something in the background, but neither of you had been paying attention for quite some time. 

“Obviously. Everyone knows that,” he says, annoyed. “Care to share why you’re bringing this up now?” 

You turn your phone around to show him the video you were watching–some girl getting fingered and enjoying it a bit too much, moans increasingly loud as she squirts and creams all over the guy’s fingers. 

“Dude, are you seriously watching porn right now?” He laughs at you, incredulous. “Watch the fucking TV at least.” 

“You’re not watching the TV,” you point out to him. Your friend has been lazily scrolling on his phone for at least 30 minutes. 

“Yeah, but I’m not watching porn while I’m supposed to be hanging out with my best friend.” 

“Fine, fine!” you say, throwing your hands up in surrender. The conversation goes quiet and you ignore the blush that crawls up your face at your friend’s words. 

“What part of that wasn’t real though?” He asks, finally breaking the silence. 

“No girl gets fingered like that and it actually feels that good,” you say. “She was obviously faking it.”

Seungmin doesn’t look up from his phone. “Maybe you’ve been hanging out with the wrong guys.” 

You scoff. “Like you would know, Kim Seungmin. I doubt you’ve ever even fingered a woman before, let alone made one squirt.”

He finally looks up from his phone, lifting a brow. “Are you implying I don’t get any?” 

“Not implying,” you say. “Just stating the obvious.” 

You and your friend have been known to tease one another relentlessly so this was nothing new. The absolutely neutral expression on Seungmin’s face, however, threw you for a loop. You find yourself backtracking, talking again way too fast and digging yourself into a deeper hole. 

“He was moving his hand way too fast!” you say. “It didn’t even look like he was even touching her clit. Yet there she was, seemingly cumming all over his hand! It just doesn’t seem real, you know?” 

“There are other erogenous zones other than the clit,” he says. He’s staring at you now. “I’m telling you, if no guy has ever made you feel that good from fingering, they’re doing it wrong.” 

“And you would do it right?” you challenge. You’re trying to fluster him–he’s simply way too calm for this conversation, and you hate being the only one who’s heart is beating way too fast. 

“I would.” He says it like it’s a fact. It pisses you off, how sure of himself he is. Seungmin, your best friend, who is seemingly nerdy and shy and quiet, who is now looking at you with all of the confidence in the world. Arousal pooled in your stomach as you thought about one fact you knew about your friend: He never took on a challenge he knew he couldn’t win. 

It has always been evident in the way he engages with his own friends. They would make bets with one another, each one more ridiculous than the next, and Seungmin would egg them on and only participate if he was sure he could do it. He would always be nonchalant about it. “I could beat you,” he would say, and they would always take the bait. As if he weren’t even trying, he would always win. That infuriating piece of knowledge, the idea of finally being able to prove him wrong is what motivates you to say what you do: 

“Prove it.” 

He lets out a small chuckle. “If you’re trying to proposition me, you’re going to have to do better than that.” 

“What?” you stutter. Once again he’s managed to get the upper-hand, noticing how embarrassed you get at his words. 

“You want me to finger you that bad? You’re going to have to ask me nicely.” 

You start to backtrack. “Who said I was–” 

“So you don’t want me to finger your pretty little cunt until you cum all over my hands? Hmm? You don’t want to squirt all over my fingers?” He says it as simply as he would if he were talking about the weather. 

You want to deny him now. You want to brush it off, tell him to fuck off, and go back to doom-scrolling and pretending to watch TV. But you don’t. 

“Hmm?” He asks again, taunting you. 

“I do,” you reply finally. 

“Then ask nicely,” he tells you. He moves closer to you on the couch, phone still in his hand. You want to pick it up and throw it across the living room. Maybe that would get a reaction out of him. 

You glance down on his phone, looking to see what he has been looking at that has got him so preoccupied and uninterested up until now. You’re surprised to see nothing but his home screen. Bingo. There was nothing all along. 

“Please,” you say, smiling sweetly at him. 

“Please what?” Now he was getting on your nerves. 

“For fuck’s sake, Seungmin! Please finger me! Please, please make me cum all over your fingers!” You cry out, exasperated. Your words are sarcastic but you get the reaction you wanted from him nonetheless; he reaches over you and grabs the waistband of your shorts, pulling them down with your panties in one swift motion. You’re left completely bare for him. 

This has now crossed over into uncharted territory. Instinctually, you close your legs. Are you really ready to show yourself completely to Seungmin just to prove a point? Just to show he’s wrong and that his cockiness in his ability to finger a girl is all for show?

“Nope,” he chides. “You wanted it so bad, you don’t get to hide from me.” His hand on your knee sends electric sparks up your body. 

Yes. Yes, you were. 

You spread your legs open wide for him, watching his face. He was seemingly unaffected by your actions, the ghost of a grin on his face. He makes a show of reaching over your body, ignoring your core completely to push two fingers past your lips. Your brows shoot up in surprise and he lets out a small breath that’s reminiscent of a laugh.

“Suck.” You do. You let your tongue swirl around the digits in your mouth, getting them nice and wet for him. You do so almost obscenely, moaning slightly at the taste of his fingers and letting spit fall down your chin. He responds by shoving them further into your mouth, pumping them in and out and eventually far down enough that you gag all over them. Your reactions are no longer for show now; he’s already managed to shut you up. 

When he pulls his fingers out of your mouth, it’s with a string of saliva. He reaches in between your legs and finally makes contact with your folds. His touches are featherlight, teasing. He’s watching the way your chest rises and falls, your labored breathing, the way you want to close your thighs again not to hide, but to finally relieve the pressure between your legs and he smirks. 

When his wet fingers dip into your hole you can hear them because you’re already soaking wet. He shallowly thrusts his fingers in and out, gathering your wetness and bringing it up to spread it across your folders. He taps your clit with his fingers, gentle and not with the intention that you need. 

“Seungmin, if you don’t stop teasing me I swear to God–” 

And he shushes you. When you go to protest once again, his fingers finally meet your clit. He rubs circles around it, rhythmic and systemic in his ministrations. He’s working you up, slow and steady until you’re completely putty in his hands. He switches between stimulating your clit and fucking his fingers up into your entrance, occasionally curling them and hitting that spongey spot that has you holding your breath.  

When your eyes meet his, the look he gives you is devious. 

He leans forward, spitting directly on your soaked pussy. You gasp. 

“Is this all you needed? Wanted to get on my last nerve so fucking bad, didn’t you baby? Did you just need my fingers to shut you up?” 

You whine at his words. When his fingers dive into your entrance again the pace he sets is brutal, thrusting into you fast and hard. The palm of his hand hits your clit every time his fingers bully into you. 

“Seung–too much,” you say. 

“Shhhh,” he tells you again. “You wanted it so fucking bad, baby. You can take it.” Your hips buck up to meet his hands and you start to pulse around him–he can tell you’re getting close. His fingers leave your entrance and attack your clit, soaking wet as he rubs furiously but with precision. It’s that motion that has you cumming so hard you’re seeing stars, possibly harder than you ever have in your entire life. The noises that come out of your mouth are not your own, they can’t be. You can’t give him that satisfaction–but you already have. 

When you come down from your high you’re glaring at him. He removes his fingers from your center and looks at you, smug, as he slips them into his mouth with a grin. 

He turns his head and scoots back down to the other end of the couch, smiling to himself as he scrolls on his phone once again. You look at him, still trying to catch your breath. 

“Yes?” He says to you. You must have been staring for a beat too long. 

“You didn’t make me squirt,” you point out. It’s a baseless accusation, a way to try to salvage your bruised ego since you both know he’s already won. 

He simply points down to his shirt which has been soaked from your orgasm; you didn’t even notice. “Told you,” he says. 

“Whatever,” you say, rolling your eyes. You pull your pants up and cross your arms, watching the TV and pretending not to care. 

“I bet that I can make you squirt all over my cock,” he says with a smile. He doesn’t look up from his phone when he speaks. 

You already know what you’re doing when you meet his eyes and say, “Prove it.”

*** A/N: Seungmin has been bias-wrecking me a little too hard as of late. This man is too fine.

Masterlist

[zepskies]

Something Real

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean W. x F. Reader

Summary: Now that you and Dean are officially engaged, you take some much needed time off together for a family vacation. But even with the wedding set for next year, the two of you are still at odds when it comes to one key part of your future together…

AN: And we’re back in the world of Smoke Eater! I’ve been trying to figure out a way to come back to these two for a while now, and this idea finally struck me. I hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 6.3K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Major fluff, angst, PTSD/mentions of sexual harassment (references to Smoke Eater Part 13), family feels, hurt/comfort, and smut.

Catch up on the SE-verse: ⤵️

🔥 Smoke Eater Masterlist

“Dean, are you okay?” you asked.

The man was white knuckling both armrests in his seat, taking pains to breathe in and out steadily. He nodded the slightest bit, humming to himself all the while. You bit your lip to hide your smile. 

The plane had just taken off about ten minutes ago.

“Are you singing yourself a lullaby?” you asked.

“Metallica. Calms me down,” he replied. 

This, from the man who storms burning buildings.

You couldn’t quite stifle your laugh, though you rubbed his arm. Somehow you managed to slip your hand into his, peeling it off the armrest. 

“We’re almost up to altitude. You’re going to be just fine,” you told him.

It didn’t matter. The plane hit a bump of turbulence, which had him squeezing the shit out of your hand. You tried to brave through it for his sake, but eventually, you had to tap out. 

“Babe, you’re gonna break my hand,” you hissed. With your free appendage, you squeezed his wrist to get his attention. Dean finally realized what he was doing to you, and he let you go. 

“Sorry,” he said, his face contrite.

Your lips twitched. You leaned down to grab your purse and dig inside for your sunglasses. You handed them to him.

Dean glanced down at the brown Dolce & Gabbana shades with skepticism. 

“I don’t need your girly sunglasses, thanks,” he said.

“Trust me,” you said. “It’ll help block out some light, so you can close your eyes and try to take a nap.”

“The only way I’m sleeping on this tin can is if you knock me the hell out,” Dean said, matter-of-fact. “Ask Sam if he’s got any Ambien.”

You glanced across the aisle and shared a wry look with Sam and Eileen. Sam shook his head, despite the knowing smile on his face. You turned back to Dean.

“No, not Ambien. Andréa sleepwalks when she takes that shit,” you said. You guided his head toward you so that he rested on your shoulder. You stroked his cheek. “Just relax.”

Dean let out a long, unsteady breath, but he tried to follow your lead. He took your hand again, not in a crushing way this time. He turned it over and admired the shining ring on your finger. The diamond on it was modest, but charming and unique in its setting. 

“Hmm, who got you that rock?” he asked. His tone was teasing, making you smile. 

“The smokin’ hot guy I’m living with,” you replied. “He finally decided to make a move.” 

Dean hummed again, raising his brows.

“Good-looking, smart, and decisive. This guy sounds awesome,” he said.

You pressed a kiss to the side of his head.

“Mhmm, a sexy firefighter. And he’s a Captain now, so I guess that’ll make me his trophy wife,” you teased back. Dean’s shoulders shook with the effort of keeping his laughter quiet. Your smile deepened.

“But he saves lives too…including mine,” you added. “So I guess I can’t complain.”

Dean raised off your shoulder then, just to look at you with a softer smile of his own. 

“Well, a pretty girl like you? He’d probably say he got really, really lucky.”

His lips closed in on yours, and you allowed him to draw you into a languid kiss while he laced his fingers with yours. His thumb brushed the engagement ring he gave you, just two weeks ago. His mother’s ring.

It’s the best gift you’ve ever been given. 

Oh, hell yes, you thought, when you opened the door to the hotel room. It was beautiful. Stunning really, with a king-sized bed and a view of an enormous pool. 

Dean was busy hefting his suitcase and one of your carry-on bags. He whistled in amazement when he saw the room. 

“Damn, Sam sure knows how to find a quality Groupon.”

But he struggled to get in the door with all the luggage he was carrying. You held the door open for him. 

“Careful with that one,” you said, pointing to your bag that kept knocking between his hip and the door as he shoved through. 

“Why’s this thing so heavy? Did you bring Kansas with you? Goddamn,” he grumbled. He was all too happy to dump your bag on the bed. 

You rolled your eyes with a smile. You parked your own suitcase on the side by the window. You already knew Dean was going to claim the side closest to the door. 

“That bag is just makeup, skincare, and hair products,” you informed him, hefting your bigger suitcase onto the bed. “This is for clothes and shoes.”

Dean shook his head in bemusement. “You’re friggin’ crazy, woman.”

“I need options!” you said defensively. “I didn’t know for sure what I was going to want to wear on this trip. I haven’t been on vacation since I was a kid.”

“Oh yeah? Where’d you go?” he asked while unzipping his own suitcase.

“Disneyland with my grandparents, which was awesome. But I was like, eight at the time,” you said. 

They were fond memories, even though no one was left to remember them but you. Still, you tried not to let that bittersweetness dim your good mood.

It was still hard to talk about your grandparents at times, especially because the loss of your grandfather was still so fresh. You didn’t feel like you had enough time to properly mourn him, thanks to everything else that was going on then. (Namely Nick and Daniel Savage, and everything in between.) 

Getting over that time was getting easier though, as the months wore on. Sometimes it was hard to believe you’d been with Dean for almost a year. And yet, it felt like so much longer. Like you’d lived half a life with him already. 

You went over to look out the window and held your hands on your hips. It was nighttime, but the streets of Miami, Florida were well-lit beyond the pool, and there was something beautiful about a bustling city at night. 

“Now this is an adult vacation,” you said.

At that, Dean smiled and walked around the bed to you. He slipped his arms around your waist and held you from behind. You held him right back.

“Damn right it is,” he said. “What do you wanna do first? Dinner, and then check out some nightlife, or skip right to dessert?”

You smiled at the way his voice lowered with thinly veiled suggestiveness. 

“Well, I know how much you love dessert,” you said slyly.

Dean’s smile deepened into a smirk.

“Yeah, that may be,” he said. “But don’t pretend you don’t love some hot lemon drizzle.”

You spluttered a laugh, beginning to blush at his hefty double meaning. He cradled your cheek and bowed his head, so he could catch your lips in a deep kiss. You made a sound of surprise, but you soon melted against him.

Already this was worth the several-hour plane ride of Dean bouncing his leg and steeling your iPad so he could distract himself. After the year you both had, all you wanted to do was spend the next few days with no responsibilities, no drama or worries—just your fiancé and your soon-to-be brother and sister-in-law…

Your newfound family. 

The night was spent at a nice Cuban restaurant in Miami Beach. Afterwards, you, Dean, Sam, and Eileen explored the boardwalk, and later the downtown Bayside area where a number of shops and kiosks were bustling with life. This was technically Sam and Eileen’s bachelor and bachelorette trip, so you all weren’t wasting any time to explore and see the city.

By the end of the night, you only had enough energy to shower and hit the bed face-first. Dean was actually on board with that, as he was the first one to start snoring on his side of the bed.

The next day though, you felt rested and ready to chill by the pool. Miami Beach itself was a bit too crowded for your tastes, and the others agreed that hanging out at the hotel for a while would be more relaxing after all the travel the day before. 

However, when you looked at yourself in one of the two-piece swimsuits you bought specifically for this trip, you couldn’t help but feel…self-conscious. The bikini and bottoms weren’t scandalous, really. You’d seen a lot of thongs, beads, and G-strings already on this trip.

It was just…you were a bit wary of showing this much skin in public. 

You didn’t want to think about the reasons behind your unease, however, so you tried to push it out of your mind for now. You put on a long sundress over your swimsuit and finished up your makeup.

A few minutes later, a knock sounded at the bathroom door.

“You done in there, your majesty? I’m getting hungry,” Dean said through the door. 

“One more minute. Doing my lipstick,” you replied. “You know we can order lunch by the pool, right?”

“Yeah, if we ever get there,” he said. You were amused when he opened the door. He was already dressed in a loose shirt and board shorts. His eyes swept over your white sundress and red lipstick, and he smiled. 

“Lookin’ good, baby,” he said. Though he raised his brows and met your gaze in the mirror. “So can we go?”

You had to laugh.

“I guess we better, before your stomach eats itself,” you quipped.

You lightly smacked the back of your hand against said stomach before you slid past him out the door.

You and Dean ventured downstairs and out back to the pool, where Sam and Eileen had already saved a few deck chairs. While Sam and Dean went to order some food and cocktails, you started pulling out the sunscreen and towels from your beach bag. 

“Eileen, you need some sunscreen?” you asked. Your friend was already taking off her shirt and little shorts, revealing a cute violet bikini and bottoms underneath. Her brown hair was loose around her shoulders. She shook her head at your question with a smile. 

“No, I’m good. Wanna go in?” she asked, and signed, before she pointed over to the pool. 

There were already a couple of families in there with their kids splashing around by the shallow end. That didn’t bother you. It was more the men of various ages milling about, either in the pool, flirting with girls, or by the tiki bar, drinking and likely waiting for opportunities.

You tugged the V-shaped collar of your sundress closer together.

“Not just yet. I think I’ll have something to eat first, try to tan a bit,” you said. 

Eileen gave an “OK” sign and headed for the pool. 

You shucked your sandals and moved your chair under a large umbrella, but you still had to fan yourself. It was hot as hell, and your dress had long, billowy sleeves.  

Sam and Dean eventually returned with some drinks. 

“Food’s gonna take a bit, so we probably have time for a dip,” Dean said, handing you a piña colada. He noticed you wiping sweat from your brow. 

“Come on, you can cool off in the water,” he said. 

You waved him off. “It’s okay. I’m good here for a while. Think I’ll work on my tan.”

Dean rose a brow and gestured at you with a hand. 

“You’re gonna do that in the shade, dressed to the ankles?” he asked.

He made a good point, to which you didn’t have a good answer. You sipped at your sweet drink and hummed at the rummy, coconutty taste.

Dean could see there was something off with you, though.

“You okay?” he asked. 

You nodded. “Yeah, I’m good. I guess I just don’t feel like swimming, that’s all.”

Dean quirked a brow. You bought three different swimsuits for this trip, but you didn’t want to swim? He pulled his deck chair closer and sat on the edge of it beside you. 

One thing he’d come to know about you. When something was bothering you, you didn’t always want to tell him right away. Often when it was something you felt embarrassed about. 

He nudged your thigh playfully. “Tell me you’re not gonna make me third wheel the married couple.” 

You smiled. “They’re not married yet.”

Three months wasn’t a long time though. You were going to be the Maid of Honor, with Dean, of course, as the Best Man. 

“Semantics,” Dean shrugged. He slipped a hand over your knee and squeezed. “Come on. Talk to me.”

After a moment in which you held his gaze, you sighed. You beckoned him closer. Dean leaned over so you could brace a hand on his shoulder and speak close to his ear. 

“It’s kind of embarrassing. I just, um…after everything that happened last year, especially before Christmas, I just don’t feel comfortable showing so much skin,” you said. “I don’t want to…attract attention.”

Surprise hit Dean first. He pulled away and frowned at you. But then, his face soon dimmed with grim understanding. 

Christmas. In other words, a Christmas party at your old job that had taken a turn for the worst.

Dean knew you had to be talking about Nick Savage. 

That bastard was dead and gone, and still, the way he’d sexually harassed you for months was still affecting you, months later. Dean let out a heavy breath through his nose. He reached up to cup your cheek. Your eyes lowered.

“I’m sorry,” you said. “I knew what I was signing up for when we started planning a beach vacation. I guess it just didn’t really hit me until now.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” he said. “But you know I’m gonna be with you. Nothing’s going to happen.”

You nodded; you knew he would protect you in any circumstance, but it didn’t stop men from looking when they had the chance. You just didn’t feel totally comfortable with that kind of attention. 

Sensing he hadn’t convinced you, Dean tried to think of a solution.

Then, he had it. He held a finger up in the air. “Ah, here.”

He pulled off his shirt by the back of his neck. You watched him in curiosity.

“This’ll cover you up. You can go ahead and jump in the pool with this,” he said, handing you the shirt. 

Your brows knit together. “But you won’t be able to wear this later. It’ll be all wet.”

“That’s okay,” Dean said. “It’s hot as hell out here. And we’ll just be going back up to the hotel room anyway.” 

You bit your lip. He made a good point. You were probably going to look weird jumping in the pool with a whole long-ass shirt on, but at least you’d be covered. His shirts tended to reach down to your thighs, where a pair of shorts might cut off. 

You smiled and leaned in for a kiss. You stroked his scruffy cheek.

“Thanks,” you whispered. 

He nodded with a smile. “Just call me the Problem Solver. No, the Solution.”

You smirked and twined your arms around his neck. 

“I prefer Captain,” you said.

Dean’s smile deepened. “You really like that, huh?”

“I really do,” you replied cheekily.

After one more sweet kiss, you asked him to stand in front of you while you took off your long sundress and changed into his shirt over your swimsuit. Afterward, he pulled you in by your waist and spoke close to your ear. 

“I like seeing you in my shirt anyway,” he said. You smiled and playfully shoved his arm. 

You accepted his lingering hand on your lower back and followed him to the pool. You felt a bit awkward wearing a shirt that billowed in the water when you stepped in, but you decided to ignore the feeling and just try to enjoy being on vacation with your family. 

Sam and Eileen welcomed you and Dean over. Eileen did question your state of dress with her eyes, but when you leaned over and explained in her ear, her eyes widened, and she understood. She gave you a look of sympathy and rubbed your arm. 

You sighed, but again, you tried to let it go. 

You two chatted for a while after claiming a corner of the pool, also watching Sam and Dean swim competitive laps back and forth. 

You were engrossed in your conversation with Eileen about her new group of students, when Dean came up from under the water to splash you both. You shrieked with a laugh as you fended off the onslaught, but he hauled you into his arms. 

Sam wisely pulled a laughing Eileen out of the orbit. Together they split off for some canoodling, and once he was done playfully trying to dunk you, you were happy to wrap your arms around Dean’s shoulders and float with him in the water.

Dean made way for a couple of kids as they splashed by. A younger girl and an older boy chased each other while swimming with little floaties on their arms. Their parents were keeping a watchful eye on them nearby. Dean smiled and laid a kiss just under your ear.

“That could be us pretty soon,” he said.

“Yeah? How soon are you thinking?” you said in bemusement.

“Hmm. How about next year?” he said, more serious than you expected him to be. You raised your brows at him. 

“Dean, we’re not even getting married until next year,” you pointed out. He shrugged and held you a bit tighter. You felt his fingers drifting up and down your bare thigh.

“So we’ll get a head start on the family thing,” he said, grinning. 

You couldn’t help but dim at that. You didn’t want to disappoint him, but you also felt you had to inject some reality here. You turned in his arms so that you could face him.

“Babe, I just started my catering business. If I get pregnant, at some point I’ll have to take time off, put everything on pause,” you reasoned. “And…I’m not making the same money I was before.”

At that, Dean began to frown. “I make decent money.”

You nodded, smoothing a hand down his arm.

“Yes, you do,” you agreed. 

Aside from his usual hours at the firehouse, Dean had earned his mechanic’s certification a few months ago. So he’d started a side job at Bobby’s salvage yard. He was slowly but surely turning it into a more profitable mechanic’s shop, with Bobby’s blessing. 

“But, I think having a baby is going to be a little more expensive than you realize,” you said. “I just want to be more stable with my business before we start a family.”

Dean was quiet for a beat.

“How long then?” he asked.

“I was thinking more like…a few years or so,” you said. Dean’s face fell further, though he tried not to show the true depths of his disappointment. 

“Okay, well uh…” He wiped a hand over his mouth and chin. It was an anxious tick of his, you knew. “I guess we’ll talk about it later.”

The conversation settled with putting an implied “pin in it,” but an invisible thread of strain formed between you and Dean for the rest of the afternoon.

Hours later, you and Eileen broke off together to go shopping. You both were trying on clothes at a nearby mall, since she was toying with the idea of wearing something new for dinner tonight. She stepped out of the fitting room to show you a white form-fitting dress that slipped over her curves nicely.

“Oooh, that’s beautiful,” you said, with a little clap of your hands. “And oh! Thinking ahead, you could wear that for the wedding reception too, if you don’t want to deal with the whole wedding dress after the ceremony.”

You knew that her dress had a lot of tulle under the skirt, which might make it difficult to dance in. Eileen gave that idea some consideration, though something occurred to her with a certain smile. 

“Well, this dress might not fit so well by then,” she said.

Your brows knitted together. “What? What do you mean?”

Eileen paused for a moment, but she seemed to come to a decision in her mind. She smiled and beckoned you over. You went to her, and she led you to a nearby chaise in the dressing room.

That was where she whispered the news that she was six weeks pregnant.

Your resulting squeal of excitement startled all the other women in the dressing room, including the store’s attendant. You covered your mouth with an embarrassed wave, but you turned back to Eileen and took her hands in yours.

“We were gonna tell you and Dean tonight at dinner,” Eileen said with a laugh. “We found out right before the trip.”

Huh. Now that you thought about it, you didn’t remember her drinking even one cocktail on this trip so far.

“Oh my God, I’m just…” you trailed, as emotion surged in your heart and made your eyes all misty. “I’m so happy for you.”

Eileen laughed and pulled you into a hug.

She explained to you that when she first told Sam on a Tuesday morning before work, he’d fallen into a haze of shock, to a point where it had kind of worried her. But then she showed you a picture on her phone of the first thing Sam bought when he got home that day: the tiniest pair of blue booties.

You laughed again, and cried again. So tiny…

“Of course he assumes it’s a boy, but we’ll see,” Eileen said, with a roll of her eyes. Her soft smile was telling though.

“How do you feel?” you asked, wiping under your eyes.

She paused at the question. She tilted her head, and she raised her gaze to meet yours. 

“I’m happy,” she said. “Really happy.”

It was your turn to give her a big hug. And your tears fell anew as you came to another realization.

As usual, Dean was ready for dinner before you. He sat on the edge of the bed while putting on his watch. It was his father’s watch, which John gifted to him for his birthday. Though it had actually belonged to John’s father, Henry. 

Dean blew out a breath. Despite his attempts to try and just have a good time tonight (Sam’s advice), he couldn’t forget his conversation with you earlier today in the pool. He didn’t want to move too fast for you, but at the same time, he couldn’t deny that he was still fighting his disappointment, and maybe some melancholy.

Just lock it up, asshole, he told himself.

When you were done putting on the finishing touches on your makeup in the bathroom, you came out and stepped into his line of vision.

“What do you think?” you asked. 

Dean’s head lifted, and his eyes widened. You were a sexy sight in black. The dress stopped at mid-thigh, paired with some of the tallest heels he’s seen you wear since his very first date with you. 

“Damn,” he said lowly.

You smiled and stepped forward, not stopping until you were standing between his long legs. You took his face in your hands and gave a slow, lingering kiss to his lips. Dean breathed into it, and even needed a bit of a moment to recover when you pulled away.

“Hey, about what we talked about today—” you started. He cleared his throat, raising a hand. 

“It’s okay. You’re probably right about all that. The timing’s not right,” he said.

You brushed your thumbs against his cheeks. “But that’s just it…maybe we don’t have to wait so long to start a family.”

Dean perked up, giving you a questioning look. You set your hands on his shoulders. He grasped your hips, almost on reflex.

“Maybe when we get home, we crunch some numbers and figure out how we can do this,” you said.

He shook his head with a frown. “I don’t want you to lose steam on your business. You’ve waited a long time to make that happen.”

You sighed. He was sweet for that, but you’d thought about that too.

“Like I said, we can figure out how to make it work. No matter what job I have, having kids was always our plan.” A smile raised the corners of your lips. “And you know, we have so many people in our lives that’ll want to help us, even if it means we have to work a bit harder.” 

Dean’s eyes started to brighten, but he didn’t want to hope too hard. 

“Sweetheart, you don’t have to tell me what I want to hear,” he said. 

“I’m serious, Dean. I wouldn’t play about this,” you said, squeezing his shoulders. “This is worth it, and I want this with you.”

He started to soften then, and even smile. He got to his feet and wrapped you up in his arms. He held you close, pressing another kiss to the side of your head. 

“What changed your mind?” he asked. You bit your lip on a smile.

“Well, if I tell you, you have to promise to act surprised when you hear it later.”

Dean’s brows shot up. “Okay. Color me intrigued.”

You leaned up to his ear and said, “Eileen’s already pregnant.”

And your man full-on malfunctioned. He held you tighter, more to brace himself. 

“Holy shit! For real?” he asked. You laughed and nodded.

“Looks like they got a head start on the wedding,” you said. 

“I’ll fucking say,” Dean replied, but his grin was so wide, it made you smile harder.

“They didn’t plan for it, but they’re going to make it work,” you said. “It made me realize…we can do the same thing. Just with a bit more planning.”

Dean laughed at that. He knew your anal brain all too well, but in this, he could understand. His hands moved down your lower back.

“Well, you know how we can get ahead of the game?” he said. You knew what he was suggesting with only his eyes, and his meaningful touch.

You would’ve loved to take him up on that, but you glanced pointedly at the digital clock on the nightstand.

“Sam and Eileen are probably waiting for us downstairs,” you said.

Dean sighed, rather dramatically in your opinion. He still bent down to kiss your neck, nipping a bit hard just under your ear. It made you jolt with a surprised yelp.

“We’re not done here,” he said. The depths of his voice made you shiver, but you smiled. 

“I’m counting on it.”

You all got back from dinner late, after much celebrating for Sam and Elieen’s news. Dean even bought a bottle of champagne, which poor Eileen couldn’t partake in. (He ordered her a large piece of chocolate cake  to make up for it.)

You and Dean returned to the hotel room, but tonight, thoughts of sleep were still far from your mind. You sat on the edge of the bed and slipped off your heels, followed by taking off your earrings. You also watched Dean remove his watch and undo the first few buttons of his dress shirt in the bathroom mirror. 

He spied you watching him, and his lips quirked up at the corners.

“What’cha lookin’ at?” he asked in amusement. 

Instead of answering him, you stood up and made your way over to him. You hugged him from behind. 

“I really needed this,” you confessed. “Getting away from home for a while…I’m reminded that everything I need is right here.”

Dean turned in your arms and pulled you in close. He gave you a slow kiss that simmered with heat.

“Yeah, me too,” he agreed. He caught sight of your bikini and his swim trunks dry on a bathroom rail, and a smile grew on his face.

“Hey,” he said. “I’ve got an idea.”

“We’re so not allowed to do this,” you giggled quietly. 

The pool and the surrounding cabanas were empty. Not only was it very late, but the pool was supposed to be closed. However, it did allow you to feel comfortable in taking off your sundress, remaining just in the vibrant green bikini you were wearing earlier today. Dean took you by the hand, and the two of you tried to keep quiet while stepping into the pool.

“Oh, God, it’s freezing,” you whisper-laughed. Dean’s jaw locked, but he was also smiling, trying not to shiver.

“Aw, shit!” he said, when the water got past his waist, hitting his more sensitive areas. “Why’s it so damn cold?”

You moved closer to him and slipped your arms around his middle, trying to steal his body heat. He welcomed you with an arm wrapping around your waist.

“I guess they count on the sun to warm it up,” you replied. “We are in the Sunshine State after all.”

“Know it all,” Dean playfully groused. “I’m freezing my tits off.”

You saw the goosebumps that had broken out across his arms, and yours too. You smirked and teased one of his hardened nips with your fingers.

“Yeah, you are,” you agreed. He laughed and looked down at your bikini top, raising his brows at the stiff peaks.

“So are you,” he said. If you two stayed in here much longer, his nads were going to pay the price. “Maybe this wasn’t one of my best ideas.”

“Nope,” you said, shaking your head and hugging him tighter. “Definitely one of your best. But maybe let’s hop in that jacuzzi over there.”

Dean twisted his head in the direction you were pointing, and sure enough, there was a nice hot tub a few yards from the pool. You both left the pool and braced the cool air on your skin long enough to run to the jacuzzi, quietly laughing all the while. 

Dean turned the dial on the heat and cranked up the bubbling, and soon you two were able to relax together in the much warmer water. He held you to his chest, his fingers dragging up and down your arm, while you just took in some deep, relaxing breaths. You let go of every bit of stress that might’ve still been clinging to your psyche. 

A few minutes in, you turned your head to press a sweet kiss under his jaw. His wet scruff prickled against your lips, but you didn’t mind. 

“Ever think about letting this enter beard territory?” you asked. 

“Eh,” Dean shrugged, still rubbing some warmth back into your arm. “Not really my look.”

“It could be,” you said. A smile curved your lips. You turned in his arms to straddle his lap, where you got the leverage to cup his face. You gently scratched your nails along his stubbly cheeks. 

He raised a brow. “You want me to go full lumberjack, don’t you?”

“Maybe not full lumberjack,” you teased. “I’d settle for quarter-lumberjack.”

Dean chuckled loud enough that you had to shush him, with your mouth covering his. His heavy hands spanned your lower back as you treated him with progressively dirtier kisses. His hands lowered to grip your ass, encouraging you to grind down on him. You were more than willing to oblige him. 

Even with the light of the moon, a large palm tree covered the jacuzzi in some shade. It made the empty courtyard feel a little more secluded. You felt just secure enough with him here to reach down below the water. You slipped your hand under the waistband of his shorts, where you began to stroke his hardening length to full mast. 

He groaned into your mouth and squeezed your hips on reflex. 

“Better be careful, baby. You’re playing with fire right now,” he said gruffly. He had no compunctions about finishing what you’d started, right here and now. 

You smirked, but you did pull your hand out of his shorts and took his hand instead. 

“Come on,” you whispered.

When you and Dean made it back to the hotel room, it was a quick stop to the bathroom.

He guided you back against the tile wall in the shower and stole your breath with a hard kiss. His hand flew to the shower knob and turned on the water. 

Luckily this shower had a ledge for shampoo bottles and soap. You knocked all of that shit over when you hiked your foot up on it. You raked your nails through his hair and left his lips, just to suck harder on his neck.   

In turn, Dean untied your bikini with a practiced hand and let it drop with a wet thwap on the floor. He kneaded your breasts and rolled his thumbs over hardened nipples. He actually rubbed some warmth back into your skin as his hands migrated down your body. And he helped you shimmy out of the bikini bottoms, just as you helped him with the shorts. 

He took a healthy grip of your bare ass and again ground you against him, making you smile against his neck. But his fingers slipping between your legs disrupted your train of thought entirely. You felt his fingertips at your entrance, probing your depths, just testing the waters first. You gave a needy hum and clung to his arms.

He chuckled near your ear. “Already soaked, huh?”

“You didn’t exactly play fair,” you said, panting for breath. He hadn’t stopped touching you all the way from the jacuzzi to the elevator. You hadn’t even completely dried yourselves, leaving a trail of water from the scene of the crime, all the way up to the third floor where your room was. 

Dean earned a wanton moan from you when his fingers roughly massaged your clit. Your head pressed back against the tile wall, your hands clasping on his shoulders tight as a shudder of pleasure rippled through your body. He stroked you right to the edge of pleasure, until he could start to feel you tighten on him. Then he withdrew his hand. 

You whined at the empty feeling, giving him a look of annoyance. “Dean?”

“Patience,” he smirked. He used your wetness on his fingers to stroke himself back to painfully hard.

You scoffed at his words. This man didn’t often have a patient bone in his body. 

But once he was ready for you, he took advantage of the way you’d hiked up your leg, and he held you open while he positioned himself at your entrance. He took your hand and moved it down to replace his fingers on your clit. 

“Keep touchin’ yourself,” he ordered. His voice became laced with both grit and desire. You followed his directions and kept circling your fingers around that sensitive bundle of nerves, even though it forced a keening moan from your throat when he pressed his cock inside you. 

“Fuck, don’t stop,” he muttered. Your inner walls were squeezing on him tightly, like you were already halfway there. Dean aimed to catch up with you as he grabbed your hips and set an almost punishing pace. He wrapped your thigh around his hip so he could get an even deeper angle to his thrusts. He grabbed onto the shower head when he felt his foot slipping a bit in the tub.

You hung onto him by the back of his neck as the coil in your lower belly became dangerously tight. “Oh, fuck. Dean…”

He knew you were close. He could feel it. He replaced your fingers with his own over your clit, searching for the spot he knew always made you come undone. 

And he knew when he found it—you cried out at the warm pulsing in your core as it quivered around him. 

“Let go, baby,” he said roughly in your ear. He gave you a few more hard thrusts, both to draw out your orgasm and to finally reach his own. His balls clenched and a ragged groan escaped him, along with his release coating your walls. 

By now, the hot water from the shower head had turned lukewarm, but neither of you really cared, blinking drops of the spray out of your eyes as you each caught your breath. Dean brushed your wet hair away from your neck. You smiled, and you guided him by his cheek, back to your lips for a softer kiss. 

“‘S a damn shame you’re still on the pill,” he remarked. 

You blinked in response. When his words finally registered, you burst out laughing. You pressed your forehead against his. Jesus, did this man have baby fever. 

“Let’s just get married first. Then we’ll work on it, I promise,” you told him. “Besides, we don’t want to steal your brother’s thunder.”

Dean grimaced and made a sound of disgust.

“For fuck’s sake, you mind not mentioning my brother at a time like this?” he said.

To be fair, he was still deep inside you. He slipped himself out and let the shower head begin to wash away the remnants. 

“Sorry, sorry,” you laughed and drew him back in for another kiss. 

Despite himself, Dean couldn’t help but smile against your lips. His left hand twined with yours, where your ring glistened under the florescent light. 

A year ago, he never thought he would be here. A year ago, he didn’t plan any further than tonight, and how he was going to get back to his life tomorrow. 

A year ago, while he did have his brother…Dean still felt alone. 

Now, he had something real. He was on the cusp of sharing the rest of his life with someone who understood him, supported him, loved him, despite the demands of his job. 

Now, he had an actual future to build with you.

And he was more than ready to get started. 

AN: I so hope you guys enjoyed this addition to the SE-verse. Let me know what you think! 😘❤️‍🔥

(Also, just to let you know, this sequel story might be made into a podfic, so stay tuned if that interests you!)

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Smoke Eater Series Masterlist

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[hiddenlife-manager]

Carlos Sainz X Needy Fem Reader

cw... Not edited, fingering, dominant carlos, slight dom reader at the start, slightly jealous reader, fucking, unprotected sex, kissing, moaning, cumshot on stomach, etc...

request...Hey girlie, could you write smth smutty for Carlos? I’m feral for that man 🥵 Like I saw the pics of him in the club in Monaco last night and the unbuttoned t-shirt?!?!? Maybe just smth along the lines of the reader being feral for her man and just being super needy and he gives it to her good? Please and thank you 🫶🫶

notepad... So I have around 22 request so I WILL BE BUSY. Thank you all who have requested. My goal is two a day but I might get them all done by the end of June. But I am pretty inspired so who knows.

Your hands traveled to his luscious hair, you moaning into the kiss. You two were standing so close to his bed, your hands placed on his chest, pushing him back and crawling onto his lap. You began to unbutton his shirt. You needed him; you needed all his clothing to be off. It took all your willpower not to fuck him on the car ride to the hotel room. 

“Mi amor, me quieres mala.” He moaned while your lips pressed against his bare skin, which you slowly revealed by taking his shirt off. He was nothing but handsome at the club. Everyone was drinking, touching him, and cheering for him and his partner due to the Monaco Grand Prix. You giggled, kissing his chest and going up to his neck, leaving love bites. 

“Mhm, I need you.” You whimpered out close to his ear; no matter what you did, you always got him hard. It was mainly because he loved you and your body more than anything in the world. But if anything, he loved the fact that you needed him badly. He smirked the moment he heard those words leave your mouth. His arms went up to your waist, flipping you over to be under him. 

“Then I will grant; just sit there and look pretty.” He was so close to you, his smirk showing a bit of his teeth. He was nothing but intoxicating to you and everyone. You knew how much people desired him, and you had him. You caught his attention, and now you could have him for the rest of your life. 

He raised your one leg up, your dress riding up; he couldn’t help but admire your beauty. He leaned to you, his soft plump lips pressed against him. You moaned into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck even if he had your one leg up. You suddenly gasped into the kiss. His fingers are entering your wet pussy. You arched your back in shock at how amazing it felt. 

“Carlito!” You moaned, head back, saliva attached to his lips and to yours. You felt his fingers curl inside you, going in and out, the lewd sound of your pussy echoing throughout the hotel room. He knew how needy you were, and he was going to deliver. “Don’t stop!”

He didn’t, opting to shove another one of his fingers into your soaking hole. He loved how your pussy would squelch while he fingered you. It was only to get you even needier before he shoved his cock into you. You were smiling, trying to push away from the amazing sensation, which slowly got more and more overwhelming. He still had your leg up on his shoulder, his other hand on your cheek, caressing it, hearing your moans leave your lips. 

“Tell me you want my cock; tell me amor.” He wanted you to beg; how else would he know how desperate you are for him and how needy you are for his cock? But all he got in return were loud moans. He shook his head and slowly took his fingers out of your sopping wet cunt. 

"No, no, no, I need you. I need your cock, please.” He managed to pull it out of you, and he smirked. He knew how to get what he wanted from his needy little plaything. He shoved his fingers back into you, quickly going in and out covered in your juices. His other hand slowly took his pants off and boxers off. His cock felt the cool air of the room, and a muffled moan could be heard from him. 

He removed his fingers from your hole once more and used your juices on his hands to pump his cock a few times. He loved the way you smelled and the way your cunt leaked each time you got aroused by him. He grabbed both your legs and pulled you towards him, and there you felt his cock enter you rather quickly. 

“Ah~” He felt your cunt clench down on him, and he groaned. It was clear from entering you that you were cumming. He did not care; he needed his fill of you. He began to go at a rather quick pace. You were left moaning about how overstimulated it was. “Too much, Carlito.” 

“You can take it, mi amor.” You nodded, hearing his groans. You were happy he wanted you as badly as you wanted him. He could feel himself reaching the end. His cock went in and out while he held your arms down and your legs on his shoulders. No matter how much you squirmed, he wasn’t going to stop fucking your pussy. 

There, he slowed down his pace, making his thrust deeper, causing your body to gently bounce. You were a moaning mess, no longer able to speak. You were extremely overstimulated from cumming right when he entered you. His thrust was deep, and with his last thrust, he pulled out, cumming onto your stomach. He sighed, looking at how exhausted you were. He leaned down and took your lips into a kiss. 

“You asked for it, my love.” 

[luveline]

Craving a postprison!Spencer x stripper!reader fic, please ma’am.

Maybe she gets a daytime job at a coffee shop or a bookstore - to “supplement her income”/ not have to dance as often (not that she’s ashamed!!) and Spencer is just so proud of her for trying and can’t quit kissing her and praising her because I know in other fics you’ve mentioned she didn’t think anyone would hire her because of her profession/self esteem, plus after prison she didn’t want to dance because she wanted to be with Spencer. 🥺

Or really just anything with a proud Spencer x stripper!reader doing anything.

Your work is fantastic and I’m in love with everything you do!! 💕 thank you and it’s totally okay if you think this request is lame or don’t wanna write it!

thank you angel! —you find a new job while making decisions about your old one after Spencer returns from prison, and Spencer would praise you for breathing, so he’s extremely proud. fem, 1.8k

Statistics differ, but estimates suggest that there are around twenty thousand strippers in Las Vegas. With a population of seven hundred thousand people (estimated up), that means that one in thirty five people living in Las Vegas dances for a living. 

It’s more than you’d think. Spencer knew of plenty of women who worked as strippers, exotic dancers, or private entertainers when he was still living at home. And while the numbers are much smaller in Washington DC where he lives now, it’s far from zero. More surprising for the average person to be one, perhaps, but not for Spencer. 

It used to make him blush like a steam train, sure, but it never did any of the things you were scared of. He’s never looked down on you for it, never been jealous (well, never acted like a jerk because of it), never positioned it as anything other than work. His only complaints are in your concern. You don’t like the club, most of the time. You feel unsafe often. The risk of femicide is yards higher for you as a sex worker than it would be otherwise, but who is Spencer to talk about danger? He still has stitches in his leg. 

Your job used to feel more urgent, a red flashing light above your head, because you’d come around with bruises or cut knees, tear stained cheeks, and you couldn’t make ends meet for all your efforts, but things have changed. You’re reluctant to depend on him, but you’ll accept the help when you need it. Nothing keeps you there if you don’t want to be there, and when you do you’re a marvel. You are beautiful, in Spencer’s eyes. Your dancing when you’re having a good night is one of the prettiest things he’s ever seen —more than pretty, sometimes. A hot coal in his stomach. 

But the fact of the matter is that Spencer’s home, and you don’t want to dance. You haven’t been to the club for weeks as far as he’s aware, and he’d consider himself well informed. You spent all your savings and started spending his instead and he couldn’t care less, what’s his is yours, whatever keeps you aloft while you make whatever decision it is you’re working toward. Not that it presented itself that way. 

I’ll have to go back.

Spencer on his back, you sitting with your head turned from the TV and toward him, your hand on his hip, just resting. Where?

To work. I have enough money for the next two weeks, and then I’m all out. 

Spencer wouldn’t do something as unkind as rolling his eyes, but the point of you moving in was to cement that he’d look after you no matter what. He’d turned his head to you on his pillow and reached for your elbow. You’re still resting. 

You’ve been home for two months, Spencer. I’ve rested enough. I… I only managed this long because you haven’t asked me for anything and that’s not fair, we both live here. 

I earn more than you, so I pay more, he’d said, confused. It’s not as though it hurt him to continue paying for an apartment he’s been living in for years. 

I won’t be your leech. 

You’re not my leech, don’t say that.

I can’t just not have money. 

Well… he’d said. He’d never discussed it with you so openly before, always stopped at the first suggestion, but there’s a first time for everything. You know you can have whatever you want from me. Anything you want, you don’t have to ask. 

Spencer… you’re my boyfriend. 

Exactly. 

No, you’re my boyfriend. You don’t have to keep me. I don’t want that. 

He understood the ‘want’ most heavily. What do you want, angel? he’d asked, dragging your hand up his naked chest to rest over his diaphragm, your arm moving up and down in time with his breathing. 

You’d seemed stricken, but not upset. Like the question surprised you in having no answer. Not sure… you’d said eventually. Mostly you. 

A week passed, two. A third and you’d asked him to borrow money, just for a little while, and with the vehement promise you’d pay him back. 

He’s not expecting it. So soon, either. But here you are standing in front of him with a beaming smile and little book in your hands, unzipping one of the book's inner pockets to count out the money you’d ’borrowed’. “Here you go, my angel, there’s everything.” 

Spencer just looks at it. “What is it?” 

“The money I owe you.” 

He presses his hands to his stomach to stop you from forcing the notes into them. “You don’t owe me anything.” 

“No, seriously, please take it.” 

He shakes his head. “Seriously. I don’t want anything from you, I love you. That money was for you to do what you wanted, or needed. It was yours as soon as I gave it to you.” 

You try regardless to put it in his hands. Your hair was done freshly a week ago, your nails manicured but unpainted, your face adorned with some new makeup he’d seen on his (your) vanity a few days ago. It honestly hadn’t crossed his mind why you’d suddenly given yourself a refresh, and he had no suspicions. You would’ve told him if you went to the club, even just via text, because it’s important he knows you’ve had access to your phone or that you’re coming home. (Plus, he’d notice you leaving at night. You’ve spent the last few evenings laying across his lap.)

“Where did you get this?” he asks, smiling softly, wondering if he’s come to the right conclusion. 

You drop the money on his thigh and take a couple of steps back. 

“I,” you say, holding your little book to your stomach, “got a job as a barista. They gave me my first paycheck today, a direct deposit. So I took out what I owe you and the rest of it is in here.” 

“You what?” he asks. 

“I’m working at the coffeehouse by the library,” you say, nodding, parts proud of yourself and parts shy. 

“For how long? Why didn’t you tell me?” 

You bite your lip. “Just this week. And honestly, I didn’t want you to know if I couldn’t do it.” 

Spencer stands up but doesn’t cross the room to you. He could reach out and catch your hand. “How could you work somewhere new all week without me noticing?” 

“You weren’t here on Monday, Tuesday, or Wednesday morning, and they gave me Thursday off, so I just told you a very small lie this morning about going to the store. I knew you’d get distracted by your Persian poetry again.” 

He did get distracted, very much so. You’ve been and worked a whole shift without his worrying, which is a bit awful in itself (he really does love you, and he’d like to know where you are), but is also, frankly, a great thing. You should be able to work without worry. You should do anything you want to do. 

Still, a whole week at a brand new job without any support, and to stand there with your paycheck as unmistakable waves of satisfaction melt off of you unkissed is insanity. Spencer’s laughing as he ushers you into his arms, as he hugs your shoulders tightly, “Oh my god!” he says, “Wow, congratulations!” He pulls back just a touch to see your face. “Please don’t lie to me about where you’re going, that’s so dangerous. I love you!” 

He takes your face into both hands with your arms hanging loosely behind his back and begins a reckoning of kisses. The slope of your cheek, the skin between your nose and lips, Spencer couldn’t care less where the kisses land, he just wants them all over you. You laugh softly as he goes, almost stickily, a sound that comes deep from your chest. “I’m so proud of you,” he says, pressing a quick, mildly rougher kiss to the corner of your mouth. 

“I might still strip,” you say. 

“Whatever you want,” he says, squeezing your face between his palms. “What’s it like? Do you like it? Is it hard?” He kisses you again. “I wish you’d told me,” he says against your lips. 

You’re quieter than he expected, and warm. He pulls away more sternly to see what’s gone wrong. He could’ve asked the wrong questions. Maybe he’s embarrassed you. 

“I just wanted to make sure I could do it. I didn’t want to fail and… and have you know. I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be, I get it.” God knows he’s failed a hundred times for you to see it. He wishes he would have hidden a lot of that from you, spared you some heartache, but he also knows how lucky he is to have you near. “That’s what we’re supposed to do, right? We should be together when stuff goes wrong.” He beams. “But it didn’t go wrong.” 

“I think I’m pretty good at it.” 

“Yeah?” 

You hold his wrist. “And I get tips, did you know that? Not as many as before,” —you laugh to yourself loudly— “but still. It’s really cool. They pay me even if nobody wants coffee, and when people want coffee I get extra.” 

Spencer kisses the corner of your eye. He kisses up to your eyebrow and down again, all over your cheek before turning your face to the other side to kiss circles into the other. “I,” —kiss— “can’t,” —kiss— “believe it.” Kiss. “Actually, I can, but I still can’t.” 

“It’s just a part time job.” 

“That you didn’t think you could do,” he says. “But you can do anything, I knew you could. I’m amazed by you.” 

He grins and throws his arms over your shoulders. 

You squeeze him right back, the two of you swaying, almost falling over. He can feel how proud you are of yourself. You deserve to feel this way no matter what. 

“I like dancing,” you say, “I do, I just wish I could do it in a different… world? Is that stupid?” 

“No. You’re never stupid.” He smiles as your hand weaves into his hair, fingertips scratching along his scalp, his curls caught between your fingers. 

“Do you think you could come on Monday? I can make you a cup of coffee. It’s not as hard as it looks.” 

“Please, I’d love for you to make me a cup of coffee.” His smile presses to your shoulder, where he breathes you in briefly, before remembering something very important. “Hey, do you wear an apron?” 

“Of course I do.”

Oh my god, he thinks. There are more than half a million baristas in the United States, and Spencer will bet his monthly paycheck that you’re the cutest one to ever exist. You look cute right now in your jeans and your button up shirt, but put an apron on top of that? To see you standing behind a bar mixing drinks and pouring latte art? Monday can’t come quick enough. 

[chocolate-milk-enthusiast]

pass pass- oh smash.

the inarazaki volleyball team was nothing short of chaos. be it the twins bickering, suna recording every fight, aran cheering them on, omimi's loud sighs of disappointment, kita's scolding and the manager's threat was something that happened on a daily basis, it was normal.

but despite all that nothing changed the fact that they were all extremely close, specially with the manager. in the past all most all the managers quit because of how patient you needed to be dealing with the havoc they created. but you were different. dealing with their bullshit every day, helping them with whatever they needed and just being a friend they really needed.

while to anyone outside it may have seemed like you have romantic feelings for one of them and that's why you chose to become the manager, so you could be closer to them. but that really wasn't the case. the last thing you'd like was one of those hooligans.

it was supposed to be a normal practice match with aoba johsai, but this was inarizaki they were talking about, of course it wasn't.

no one knew you were dating oikawa. no, everyone just automatically assumed you were with atsumu. they weren't exactly to blame, you were close to him but that's what happens when you know someone since your childhood.

to say you were tensed about the match was an understatement. not only about how this was going to end on the court but about how the teams would react if they somehow got to know you were with oikawa.

but it was as if luck decided to make a complete fool of me their entire team came barging in, the loud entrance made everyone flinch for a second as they stared at the door.

now you were panicking and omi being the actual saint he was asked you, "are you alright?"

"no, fuck shit no, do i look alright?" i was pacing back and forth trying to hide my face thinking about ways to hide myself from oikawa or at least let him no that he shouldn't approach me.

"are you alright you look like you just saw a ghost"

"that's because i saw someone worse than a ghost! oh my godd can i call in sick please?" you pleaded with him, trying to find any excuse that would get you out of here.

"no. why would you want that, what happened?"

"i'm kinda maybe sorta might be dating someone from seijoh"

"what's the problem, he's in seijoh this is volley- wait you have boyf- WHAT?"

the yelling had caught the team's attention as they look at the both of you confused.

"WE'RE FINE, NOTHING HAPPENED" as you glare at omi "shhh are you trying to get me killed here? the problem is he is the volleyball team and is kinda the captain of the team. i'm just gonna pray he isn't stupid enough to approach me here with these creatures all around me"

"praying isn't going to be enough for what the twins might do to him if they find out."

cue the bad luck as kindaichi and kunimi wave at you, surprised you're standing at the other side of the court. your hands frantically making the cross sign across your chest mouthing "stay away, you don't know me"

"oh wait how about you text him or something to like not come up to you and you'll explain later"

"ohhh my god you're a genius i love you omi"

as you whip your phone out going to text iwaizumi with your hands shaking.

-IWAIZUMI HELP

why do you look like you're about to pass out? are you fine?

-it's because i might pass out any second. my team doesn't know i'm dating oikawa

oh

-yeah tell him to not approach me please if they find out i'll be dead

i'll do it. good luck w this mess

-thank you i owe you big time

you look up from your phone to talk to omi- "i told his bestfriend to tell him to not approach me that should work right?"

"why didn't you tell him directly? what if he thinks he's just saying it so he stays focused"

"ohhh you're like SUPPER smart, i dont know what i'd do without you"

"probably have your little affair get caught"

you just mutter a little "rude" before going to text oikawa. but before you can, he comes in yelling.

"Y/NNN CHANN I MISSED YOUUU" his whiney voice can be heard to everyone as he jogs his over to you.

you sigh, knowing what's about to go down. "hi oikawa, i missed you too.." you whisper so only you can hear it. and before you can process the entire inarizaki volleyball team (and seijoh) is surrounding the two of you.

suna could careless about who you dated, if you were happy he didn't mind it. but this was something that was both surprising and funny, so of course he had to record it.

it was confusing to the team because up until now they were under the impression you were dating atsumu.

"wait wait wait what does he mean by he missed you? are you two friends?" osamu was curious, he knew you weren't dating his brother but he thought you liked him.

oikawa dramatically turned towards you "you haven't told them?"

"ladies, ladies there's enough of me to go around" which only brought you deadpan looks from both the volleyball teams "ok sorry, my bad for being funny"

"wait what does he mean you haven't told us??"

"we've been dating for a year, the last thing we could be is friends-"

"you're dating him? I thought you were with atsumu?"

"atsumu? i thought you were dating suna?"

"why me? i didn't even do anything keep me out of this?"

"NO WHY WOULD I BE DATING EITHER OF THEM?"

"what's wrong with us?" suna and atsumu asked offended.

"shut up i've seen you eating sand and you ask me what's wrong with the two of you?"

"y/n chan, what's going on?" kunimi asks curiously. the seijoh's team just stood there watching you, oikawa and the inarizaki members going back and forth.

"all of you shut up, we didn't even let y/n explain properly"

"oh my god thank you kita-"

"you don't like the twins?"

"KITA?! no oh lord i don't, i've been dating toruu for the past year, i never did and never will like any of these hooligans, no offense"

"HEY! that's rude-" before atsumu could whiney any further osamu smacked him in the back of his head, which shut him up immediately.

"what about the rumors of a girl making out with atsumu? that wasn't you?" suna finally asked, genuinely wanting to know more.

"Y/N-CHAN YOU MADE OUT WITH PISS HAIR? WHAT?"

"no oh my god toruu I didn't-"

"oh, that wasn't her that was just a junior i dated."

"yeah that wasn't me wait ew juniors? really atsumu?"

"she was cute! don't shift this on me"

"but guys seriously i never had have or will like anyone from the volleyball team. i'm sorry i hid it from you guys, but i was just scared of what you guys would think"

"are you happy? does he keep you happy?" aran asked borderline choking atsumu.

the question caught you off guard but instantly a small smile replaced the shock on your face "yes, he does, he's stupid but he really does make me happy"

"then that's all that matters"

"aww thank you-"

"nuh uh, i don't approve, what if he's a playboy?" atsumu disapprovingly shook his head praying aran's hands off him.

"oh god no one wants to hear that from you" suna shut atsumu up.

atsumu quietly huffed a "rude"

"well now that that's sorted, we should probably get back to warming up"

"yes thank you kindaichi, finally a normal person"

"y/n?" aran called out to you.

"yes?"

"just because your boyfriend's in that team doesn't mean we'll go easy on them, we'll just be rougher with them"

"if it makes you win, be my guest."

this was a bit awkward to write and I'm not proudest of this either but we'll js roll with it

@daisy-room here you go mam hope I did your idea justice

[pathologicalreid]

Comforting spencer 🙏🙏 Maybe after the Tobias thing or something, sorry if this is too vague 😭

your needs, my needs | S.R.

who? spencer reid x gn!reader category: angst; hurt/comfort content warnings: takes place following 3x12 "3rd life", spoilers for 2x15 "revelations", drug addiction, mentions NA and narcan word count: 1.74k a/n: hey anon! this is kind of too vague BUT i've had this idea marinating in my brain for so long and i just needed to find a place for it in the timeline! i hope this works for you! thank you for requesting!

Halfway down his arm, in the crook of his elbow, your boyfriend had a scar.

It was left by someone who was now dead and had been for months. The pink, new skin would eventually fade, but you’d always see it there.

The memory of Tobias Hankel would always haunt your relationship, but the two of you would manage to create new memories in the wake of everything that he had almost destroyed.

Hanging up your keys next to the front door, you note the silence of the apartment, there was no radio playing, no turning of book pages, and yet, you glanced over at the couch, seeing Spencer’s signature mismatched socks hanging over the edge of the couch.

Quietly, you set your bag down before you made your way over to the couch expecting to find Spencer asleep, but you’re surprised when deep brown eyes look back at you. His arms were crossed in front of his chest, a book tucked in the crook of his arm like he had given up on reading for the evening. “Hi, love,” you whispered, making your way around the back of the couch and squatting next to him, studying his expression intently. “How was work?”

He closed his eyes as you reached out and smoothed his hair back, “Hi,” he responded. His voice was raspy like it had been a while since he used it. You had woken up in an empty bed this morning, so the BAU must’ve arrived home from Chula Vista at some point while you were at work.

Spencer didn’t offer any other conversation. He didn’t tell you how work was. He didn’t ask you how work was. Sadly, you pressed your lips together in a thin, white line and tilted your head to the side, “What happened?”

“I’m tired,” he answered, averting his eyes from yours as he deflected. The avoidance was telling enough, you knew what was going through his mind. “I need to take a shower,” he admitted, his voice softening with use.

You raised your eyebrows curiously at him, despite the fact that he wouldn’t look at you, “Did you want me to leave you be for a while?” You asked, letting him know that you could keep your distance, but you wouldn’t leave him alone – not when he was like this.

His lips parted as he prepared to answer, “I don’t want to go into the bathroom,” he admitted meekly.

A deep understanding filled your chest. The bathroom was where you first figured out his addiction. The bathroom was where you now kept Narcan in the medicine cabinet. “Did you want me to go in with you?” You asked him a new question, hoping you could somehow gently guide him to an answer.

“I just don’t want to go in,” he said, voice raising in frustration before he checked himself, “I don’t want to be in a bathroom.”

You steeled your expression, not wanting him to know that you caught on the way he said a bathroom instead of the bathroom that time. “Alright,” you told him, pushing up on your knees so that you could stand and head into your shared bathroom. Going into the shower, you reached in and grabbed Spencer’s shampoo and conditioner, pulling a towel from the linen closet before you walked back out, passing him on the couch as you made your way into the kitchen.

Setting everything down on the counter you went back to the bedroom, closing the door to the ensuite before calling Spencer over. You heard heavy footsteps approach the bedroom before your boyfriend showed up in the doorway, “What is it?”

“Change into more comfortable clothes, then I can wash your hair in the kitchen sink,” you told him insistently, taking up a tone that told him you weren’t going to take no for an answer. Reaching into his side of the dresser, you pulled out a pair of flannel pajama pants while he stripped himself of his work clothes. Making sure he was moving, you followed suit, pulling off your work pants before resorting to sweatpants and an old t-shirt.

He grumbled as you herded him into the kitchen, sock-covered feet shuffling on the tile floor. Despite giving you a look when you instructed him to lie down on the counter, Spencer did so without much of a challenge. As you flipped on the tap, he settled on the laminate surface, “What are you doing?” He asked, frowning at you as you gently took his glasses off and placed the thick, black frames on the opposite side of the basin.

You hummed, taking the towel and tucking it underneath Spencer’s neck so the edge of the counter didn’t hurt him, “I don’t want to get soap and water all over your glasses.”

With furrowed brows, he looked up at you, “I won’t be able to see without my glasses,” he informed you.

“Then you’ll have to use that memory of yours to remember just how good-looking I am,” you responded earnestly, refraining from victoriously throwing your hands in the air when a small smile bloomed on his face.

Sighing, he relaxed against the hard surface of the counter. Too tall to fully lay down, he kept his legs folded up at the edge. It looked awkward, but if he was comfortable, who were you to judge?

Checking the temperature of the water with your hand, you took the sprayer in your hand and quickly sprayed a bit of water on Spencer’s hair, “Is that too hot?” You asked softly, watching his face for any kind of reaction.

Spencer quickly shook his head at you, “No, that’s good.” His answer prompted you to continue wetting his hair, using the sprayer before setting it down and taking his shampoo in your hands.

Lathering a dollop in between your palms, you slowly started to work it into his hair, he closed his eyes as you massaged the shampoo into his hair, focusing on his scalp as you did so. You smiled softly at the way he visibly relaxed, watching the way peace overtook him as a result of the simple service of having his hair washed.

Using your hand to protect his face from soap and water, you took the handheld sprayer back in your hand and rinsed the shampoo from his hair, the suds slipping from the locks in a waterfall. Taking a moment, you elected for another round of shampoo, squirting the same amount in your palm before repeating the process.

In your periphery, you noticed Spencer fiddling with something in his hand, a flash of gold caused your heart to clench while he flipped the coin through his fingers. His six-month NA chip.

Deciding against mentioning it, you continued working your fingers through his hair, the second round of shampoo foaming up even more than the first had, leading you to rinse your hands off before going back for the sprayer. Using your hand, you made sure to get all of the remaining shampoo from his hair before gently wringing his hair dry.

Putting a small amount of conditioner on your fingers, you deftly worked the product through the ends of Spencer’s hair, “Your hair’s getting long,” you observed aloud. “Did you want to cut it or keep growing it out?”

Not opening his eyes, Spencer responded, “Not sure yet,” he mumbled, clearly still enjoying your ministrations on his hair.

Finger-combing the conditioner through his hair, you nodded to yourself, “If you want to cut it, just let me know and I can help.”

In response, he nodded slightly while you tried to work through a small knot in his hair, “I thought I could stop him.”

Your movements faltered at the sudden change in subject, but you quickly regained your footing and continued, “You can’t save everyone.”

“I hate that,” he told you. Spencer had a lot of anger, it was never directed at you, it was directed toward the world, but that didn’t mean you liked it.

Letting the conditioner sit in his hair, you rinsed the product off of your hands before turning the tap off. “Do you need to go to a meeting?” You asked him gently, reaching over to seal the caps to the shampoo and conditioner before glancing at your boyfriend.

Mentally, you recalled where you had set your keys and bag when you got home, just in case you needed to take him away, “I’ll go tomorrow,” he answered.

His usual NA group met on Wednesdays, so it made sense that he’d want to go to that group. It didn’t mean you wouldn’t keep an eye on him tonight. “Okay,” you murmured softly, flipping the tap back on before you proceeded to rinse the conditioner from his hair, using your fingers to get all of the product from his silky brown strands.

Adjusting the temperature slightly, you focused your energy on getting the product out, settling into a comfortable silence until you felt satisfied, shutting off the water and wringing the water out as best you could with your hands.

You carefully coaxed the towel from where it rested beneath his neck, getting him to sit up while you towel-dried his hair. Pulling the cotton off of his head, you left his damp hair sticking every which way as you reached over to return his glasses to him, “Do you feel any better?” You asked, refraining from reaching up and touching him, you put your hands behind your back.

He nodded softly, settling his glasses on his face and blinking as his eyes focused. Spencer surprised you when he reached out for you, sitting up and leaving his legs dangling off of the edge of the counter, he parted his knees and pulled you so that your body was flush with the counter, wrapping his arms around you tightly. “I love you,” he mumbled into the crook of your neck.

Burying your face in his shoulder, you breathed in the all-too-familiar scent of his shampoo and conditioner and leaned into his embrace, “I love you too, Spence.” Tears pricked your eyes, and you pulled away from him before any could trickle down your cheeks. “Come sit down on the couch, I’ll brush your hair out.”

A small, content smile grew on his face, nodding at you before he pushed himself off of the counter, following your footsteps back into the living room.

[queensunshinee]

Time Of Our Lives || Part 2

Part 2:

Tashi Duncan was a force. Everyone knew it. Everywhere Tashi went, a crowd of people gathered, seeking some form of contact with her. A brief conversation about her day, their day, the fucking weather. Just so they could say they talked to the Tashi Duncan. Liana hated her. She didn't hate her personally; she hated the fact that even at Stanford, everything revolved around tennis, and accordingly, everything revolved around Art Donaldson and his blonde curls. Art, who showed up at her dorm at unreasonable hours with a box of fries he didn't even eat but knew she liked, Art, who was at every party she attended, Art, who wouldn't stop babbling about Tashi Duncan. "Look, I just think she's not the right girl for him..." Right now, Art was lying on her bed, bouncing a ball while she was trying to finish a paper for her Intro to Economics class. "I don't understand why you're here..." she mumbled in response. Somewhere in the second week at Stanford, she had stopped fighting his presence. He refused to let go. Every scowl she sent his way only encouraged him to do stupid things like waiting for her after class to walk her to the cafeteria or calling her mom and casually asking if she knew why Liana stopped coming to his open practices (she never attended his practices anyway, the little shit was an unbearable liar who made her mom talk for half an hour about how you can't neglect friendships like the imaginary one between her and Art). "Because you didn't come to practice today. Again." He looked at her. "Are you back with James?" he asked casually. "You know his name is Jake," she rolled her eyes, realizing she'd been reading the same line for fifteen minutes and deciding to close her laptop. "Are you sure?" he asked with a half-smile, pleased that for the first time that evening, he had her attention. "Why do you care that Patrick and Tashi are together?" she asked. "I don't care. I just know Patrick, and you know Patrick-" "Do I?" she cut him off, causing him to squint for a second. "You know Patrick well enough to know how he treats girls. He doesn't take them seriously, and now he's with Tashi. He's going to mess her up and ruin her season." He shrugged, as if it was the most logical thing anyone had ever thought about his best friend. "Aren't you supposed to worry about Patrick's season, Art? Like the good friend you are?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. Everything felt too charged with tension she couldn't figure out. "You didn't answer me about James. Are you back with him? He's kind of a loser," he changed the subject, not taking his eyes off her. "You're kind of a loser. Sitting in my room and whining about your best friend dating the most beautiful girl you've ever seen. Get over your crush and move on. Use your blonde hair to find a hookup instead of bothering me while I'm studying." She turned her back to him and opened her laptop again. "And no, I'm not back with Jake," she concluded the topic, not wanting to reopen the wound of that relationship. Certainly not with Art Donaldson, who had started moving towards the door, finally getting the hint.

Liana put Patrick on speaker while she searched for her earrings. She had promised Daria (the only friend she had managed to find so far) that she would go out with her to the bar across from the university, and they would try out their fake IDs. Liana was sure no one would believe she was 21, no matter how revealing the dress Daria forced her to wear, how much makeup she put on, or how high the heels she wore were. No one with eyes would believe she was old enough to buy alcohol. "The referee kept making mistakes. I think Marcus paid him off. His dad probably promised the guy a new Aston Martin if I lost." Patrick, who had been complaining for the last ten minutes about the terrible game he had today, continued talking while she tried to apply lipstick as straight as possible. "I don't know much about tennis, but that sounds exaggerated, Pat." Liana didn't know what to say to cheer him up. The truth was that since the season started and Patrick decided he was pursuing professional tennis, Liana didn't know how to support him. "I'm telling you, something was off there." He spoke, maybe to her, maybe trying to convince himself. "I think you should call Tashi or Art. they would understand better than me what went wrong..." she said, wiping off the lipstick, the bright color felt too much. Like she was trying too hard to draw attention to herself to show everyone she was pretending to be an adult. "Oh, if you think Tashi hasn't already called me and told me everything I did wrong in that game while reminding me of all the mistakes from the previous game, you're wrong." He answered. She recognized the bitterness in his voice. "That sounds like a healthy relationship. you should write a book." She tried to lighten the mood, again not knowing how to help him. She didn't know Tashi, only heard stories about her, and currently, they weren't great. "Art will just keep saying I should have taken the Stanford scholarship like him and be with you guys in the beautiful college bubble, drinking beer from a keg." He continued, ignoring the jab about his relationship. "Imagine how much fun you could have had with me at Stanford, Pat. I'm on my way to use my fake ID at a bar. In heels and everything." Liana tried to do everything she could to steer the conversation away from tennis. "Whoa, Liana Levi, breaking the law. Who would have believed we'd reach this moment? What's your fake name?" he laughed, which made Liana smile. Something about hearing Patrick so broken felt wrong to her. It didn't fit the curly-haired boy who always tried to make her laugh and include her in everything he did when she was around. "Amanda Jacobs," she replied. Silence fell on the line. "Amanda Jacobs like Amanda James who went to boarding school with me and Art?" Patrick asked, and she could hear the octaves in his voice change. She already knew he wouldn't let this go. "I had to come up with something on the spot. I panicked," she defended herself as his laughter slowly became the only thing she could hear. He couldn't see her right now, but it made her smile even more, even though it was at her expense. "Alright, Amanda, don't drink and drive. Don't do anything I wouldn't do." He said after he calmed down. "Okay, Dad." She rolled her eyes. "You know I love it when you call me-" he couldn't finish the sentence because she hung up.

Art was sitting on her bed when she came back from the bar. Not only had her fake ID worked, but the bartender had also been hitting on Daria all night, so he kept pouring them free shots. It was safe to say Liana had never drunk that much alcohol in her life. "Am I imagining you?" she asked with utter seriousness. "What? No. I was waiting for you." He looked confused. "Are you drunk?" he asked the obvious while Liana tried to take off one of her heels and almost fell, causing Art to quickly get up and stand next to her so she could lean on him. "How did you get in here, Arthur?" she put her hands on her hips, causing him to look at her and flash his most charming smile. The kind that made all the girls melt. "Your dad gave me a key for emergencies," he said, without taking his eyes off her as he sat back on the bed and she approached him with clumsy steps, a little disappointed that taking off the heels didn't help her stability much. "Do you want to sit?" his tone was amused. He had never seen Liana so drunk. Almost every summer, they managed to sneak a few beers when Patrick came to visit. But it was never serious. "My dad gave you a key? You realize that's not normal, right? We need to talk about boundaries, Donaldson," she turned her head to him while he was already looking at her, just inches separating them as they sat next to each other on the bed. "Patrick told me you were going to a bar, something about a fake ID? wanted to see if you're ok" he said, not moving. A little afraid she'll be the one who suddenly moves away. He couldn't remember the last time Liana was this close to him. He didn't think she would ever get this close to him again. "Patrick is a snitch, and I'm not telling him anything anymore," she sighed and threw herself on the bed dramatically, spreading her arms, causing Art to do the same and land on her arm, closer than she would tolerate any other day. "I can't believe you didn't invite me. I'm disappointed," he tried to sound amused, but he was genuinely disappointed. By this point, he was sure she understood they were friends, that they were connected by such a strong bond that he sometimes doubted if he could ever unravel it. If he even wanted to unravel it. He just didn't understand how, while he saw her so clearly, she didn't see him at all. Sometimes he wondered if she even knew his name. Then he would see her in the crowd at one of his games, and the world calmed down; he always won when she was there. "You don't drink anyway," she noted quietly. The fatigue started to overcome her, and Liana's eyes closed on their own. "Hey, I do drink," he defended himself, even though they both knew he was lying. He tried to maintain his diet as correctly as possible, as fitting as possible for his athletic lifestyle. "I think Patrick is sad," she suddenly said, and Art felt his heart beating quickly. "How do you know?" he asked in a quiet, almost defeated voice. "Because when I talk to him, I'm sad too."

sooo, here's the second part. I think we're getting somewhere, but it's going to be a slow burn, so stick with me, I guess. I'm kinda clueless as to if you like it or not, so feel free to tell me what you're thinking ❤️

[themultifanshipper]

..................reader riding logan soft and slow after miami, leaning down and kissing all over his neck, whispering gentle praises and "you did all you could"s and "it wasn't your fault"s and "i'm proud of you no matter what"s while his hands cant stop scrambling wherever they can reach- reader's shoulders, hips, ass, chest, waist, arms, anything he can hold on to because he's just so overwhelmed with how good it feels.

eventually it ends with him almost choking on reader's fingers, spit and tears mixing on his tongue and sobbing heavily after reader removes their fingers, saying "i did well, i believe you" when he finally, finally cums and it's one of those slow and smooth ones that just never seem to end and it's all soft and vanillay UGH i can't get over this. i thought of it on a high-speed train through korea (seoul to busan) and i didn't have service but WOOOOO i'm doing great

(can u tell i'm ovulating)

I'm ovulating too and this just ... wow kill me softly why don't you

Shoving your fingers into his mouth just to stop him trying to argue with what you're saying, and eventually his drool is dripping down his chin, over his abs, down to where you're joined, easing the slide even more.

You're splitting yourself on his cock as he struggles to not thrust up into you, using him as you please to punish him for saying negative things about himself.

In fact, whenever he gets close to coming, you pull off, making him wail around your fingers, tears streaming down his cheeks. You're not letting him come until he repeats the sentences you said to him back to you.

You take your fingers out of his mouth for the 3rd time now "Well? Anything to say to me?"

He shakes his head as you tut disapprovingly, seating yourself back on him, but not moving. "I've already come twice my love, I'm satisfied. I'm not letting you come until you've done what I asked, and if you don't want to I guess can just walk right out of here." You clench around him to emphasise your point and he whimpers.

"I did all I could-" he manages to choke out after a while "It- it wasn't my fault".

You hum in encouragement and start rocking your hips again, slowly.

"I did well...I-" he stops, the last part always the hardest to say for him.

You grab his face, forcing him to look at you, thumbs wiping at his tear stained cheeks. "Go on baby, say it, I know you can"

He surrenders completely at your touch "I'm proud of myself"

You smile and kiss him softly.

"Again" you order and he squirms as he repeats the words again under your heated gaze. You make him repeat them once more after that, rythm of your hips never faltering, until he finally starts sounding like he believes what he's saying.

You kiss him passionately and you pick up the pace, his hands grabbing onto the meat of your hips as you trail kisses over his face and neck. "Good boy, you can come inside now baby, I'm so proud of you"

He groans at that, and grabs your waist to start pounding into you from below.

"I'm so close!" He whines.

"I know, baby, let go for me, I've got you"

And he comes inside you with a noise somewhere between a sob and a wail as he wraps his arms around you and buries his face in the crook of your neck.

This is the best way to make him decompress after a bad race (and he has a lot of them at the moment) and you're only happy to embark on the long and hard journey that is making Logan Sargeant believe in himself again.

Logiiiiiie, this hit me in feels ngl I'm terrified about his future, and now I learn they're giving Kimi Antonelli dispensation to drive... truly cogs in a fucked up machine

Anyway

[melodic-haze]

hi!! could I request ayaka nsfw headcanons? thanks!

☆ — DEMO TRACK: sub!Ayaka x dom!Reader

☆ — TYPE: NSFW

☆ — CONTENT WARNINGS: Corruption kink, exhibition kink but it doesn't acc get acted upon 🤷‍♀️

☆ — NOTES: shut up omg another one I LOEV AYAKA THANK YOU

She seems like the type to be extremely vanilla at first, not bc she's scared (well no she is a lil bit) but bc she hasn't really? Had the chance to explore or anything??? But she seems like the type to be interested in it, just that she didn'r know HOW to explore it......until yk. You came along

She's like a willing subject to corruption, it's rather lovely 🫶

The way she'd approach you about it too 😭😭 like ohhh you're so precious my bbg :((( she'd breach the topic carefully, her cheeks tinted very red thanks to her skin betraying her and the blood that rushed to her face

Side track as much as I do adore Ayaka stumbling on her words and stuttering, I actually personally don't think she would unless she was EXTREMELY flustered or completely out of it. She's probably really good with forming sentences and stuff with very minimal stuttering, esp when she'd have to think ab her speech a lot to make sure she isn't offending anyone generally (I wish that were me cuz I stutter a LOT it's acc embarrassing)

So when she asks, she's VERY red but also very clear and concise with her speech. If it weren't for the embarrassed look on her face, if it weren't for her covering her face with her fan, you'd have thought that she wasn't shy about such an ask at all

It was hard to concentrate and gather your bearings at least a little bit when the soft scent of cookies and the mochi she had made a while ago never fails to overtake your train of thought, but you managed to pull through as you slowly undressed her.

"Are you completely sure?" You asked in concern for her, despite the fact that she had approached you about such a request, "I'm worried you might not like the experience. I don't want you to feel uncomfortable..."

She shook her head in reply, giving you a gentle smile, "I'm sure. I admit that I've been.. curious, and I trust you completely."

You couldn't help but soften at your white-haired partner's proclamation, giving her a lingering kiss on her temple, "Just remember to tell me if something feels wrong, you know I worry for you."

"I know," she giggled, "but you don't need to treat me like I'm fragile."

And before you reply in turn, Ayaka cuts you off by leaning her head on your shoulder, her lips close to your ear as she whispered in such a tantalising way--

"I'd like to think I can handle whatever you do to me."

--before drawing back with a much cheekier smile compared to moments before, "I hope that clears most of your reservations?"

By god, yes it does.

She turns out to be a FREAK❗️❗️❗️👹👹👹👹

No but fr though? I already wrote it but she def love love LOVEEEESSS being your good girl 🥰🥰🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶 wants to do anything you ask her to do bc she wants to make you happy. Absolutely gets off to whenever you praise her for the stuff she does

But also? Kinda very much adores being roughed around!!! Being an important figure to Inazuma, she's not necessarily used to being treated anything less than with respect and caution, so for you to essentially make her forget all that as you "disrespect" her rank? Mmmmyes definitely Something :3

She's a very very curious person who's open to a LOT of things, going from binding to sensory deprivation to roleplay

Oh my GOD she'd ESPECIALLY be into roleplay; pretending as if she were someone else, esp if she was absolutely ravaged by you? My word it gets her wet just thinking about it

I think she'd LOVEEEE to be overstimmed 🫶🫶🫶 she wants a break from thinking!! She wants a break from responsibilities, and the way you can make it easily go away by fucking her brains out gets so addicting for this little princess

SHE'D DEFINITELY BE A SQUIRTER OH GY GOD fuck off listen she's def so so very sensitive that if you work her up enough (which doesn't acc take long) she would and she'd APOLOGISE for making such a mess but you just Cannot Help but try to get another one from her so it goes around alllll over again until she passes out :3

Don't think she'd act it out irl bc no way is she actually risking her reputation (and in extent, her brother's and her entire family name), but she'd develop?? A taste for exhibition???? Perhaps it's through the times you've just decided to drag her away to a semi-secluded spot, or maybe it's bc of the times she's touched herself while thinking of you with the risk of SOMEONE coming into her room. Either way, she starts to fantasize scenes from time to time where you're fucking her out in the open or you get caught or even that she's walking around with her pussy unknowingly stuffed with toys, who knows 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

If she doesn't tell you then she probably clues you in unconsciously when you start talking to her about how ANYONE could find you absolutely ruining this whore of a princess 🫶 by her inner walls clamping onto you as she lets out a particularly loud whine 🫶🫶🫶

Ayaka had tried to go back to sleep, she really did. But her thoughts had caught up to her, hazy made-up images and scenarios of the simplest thought of getting caught doing things unbefitting the White Heron Princess and her demure, innocent stature.

Even as she had her fingers inside her needy hole, even as she grinded on her palm in a deaperate effort to chase that needed release, she had found that she couldn't be satisfied in the least. The fact that she had to silence herself in an effort to prevent herself from getting caught didn't help with sorting out her current issue, either.

It wasn't enough—she needed you to satisfy her, to put her in her place, to take her fully until she could no longer care to think about anything else but being your personal doll. There was no way she was getting off all by herself, she needed you.

Biting the fabric of her blanket in an effort to stop her teary moans from being as loud as it would've been, she could only hope any pray that this aching need within her subsides in time before she has the chance to see you again.

(And perhaps she'll gather the courage to ask you about recreating.. a very exposing scenario, to sate her torturous curiosities.)

Bonus bullet point it'd be really cute to see her cry from the stimulation 🥰🥰

[v3nusxsky]

Hello! 👋🏻 I would love a little smutty Larissa x Morticia x Reader oneshot if I'm the first ask. Please and thank you 😊

Can we keep her? 18+

*Authors note~ I’m so sorry I haven’t posted in a while placement has been hectic with so many assessments needing to be done for me to pass the year which ends in two weeks! But have this little brain child*

Trigger warnings ~ established relationship Mortica x reader, mommy dom! Mortica, sub r, sub leaning switch!Larissa, talks of past Tish x Larissa, oral fixation (r), thigh riding (L-M), praise kink, degrading kink, oral sex, fingering, sensory play?, blindfolds, overstimulation kink, mirror sex, aftercare obvs

Prompt^^^

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

Being Nevermore’s Literature professor was in all honesty a dream come true. Ever since your time as a student in the school you’d wished to end up here. And that you did. Larissa couldn’t wait to offer you a position after being your last placement before you qualified. The skills you possess are honestly some of the best she has seen and therefore makes you an asset to her staff.

But if you know Nevermore, which you do, it always provides the unexpected. The youngest member of staff just so happened to unknowingly gain the interest of a certain raven haired beauty. Morticia Addams. But it was not the only time you’d been on her mind, no, when you were studying you often ended up shadowing her class as Larissa felt you needed to be well rounded in classroom management. Your nature making you quiet and reserved and a little afraid to assume your natural authority over the class. Which is why Mortica was perfect for you.

Thinking back to how it all started out with you and your girlfriend always brings a smile to your face. When things got tough she was always there, rain or shine to support you. Also you’d be utterly insane to not notice her radiant beauty she so effortlessly wears. Everything about her was perfect. Beautiful skin like the pale moons reflection on the lake. Raven hair as dark as night, perfectly straight and never out of place. Dresses that hugged her body as if they were her skin. And the height that woman has often brings you to your knees. Truly, she’s magnificent. So of course it was only natural to see her celestial being in your dreams.

You knew of her psychic abilities and she knew that you process the ability of mental projection. Now you have a higher ability than most would assume which allows you to project thoughts feelings, create alternative worlds with your imagination and even switch realities. Mostly, you enjoyed your ability and the fact you could use it to help others, but you’d never would’ve thought that your own mind would let out your secret desire.

You’d been utterly exhausted the whole day which resulted in your head snuggled into the woman’s neck as she read a French book out loud to soothe you to sleep. And like always the smooth silky voice and the steady thumps of the heart bellow you worked like a charm. Only to send you into the spiciest dream you’ve ever had.

“Mommy” you whined pitifully as you squirmed under Larissa’s gaze. The blonde seemingly confident as she towered over you, not even throwing her past crush a glance. “She is a pretty thing Tish, I could do so much with her” the shifter murmured thoughtfully, clearly talking about you and not to you as she ignored your desperate state.

“Ah, mon amour, you aren’t in control here are you darling?” Your lover reminded the principal, clearly stating that she is in control of both you and the blonde. “Will you be good for me sweet girl?” She practically coed at the older woman while actively ignoring you. “Yes mommy” came the mumbled response, her shyness soaking the words. “Oh my dear Rissa, we both know you aren’t shy in this department darling” came her chuckled teasing words. You’d know there was something with them in the past, but purposely not spoken about until this interaction.

It was then that you became overwhelmed with your thoughts of the two women together in the most intimate and inexperienced ways that your grip of control faltered and everyone in the room was blessed with the image of Larissa Weems in her youth, riding your Tish’s milky thigh in a frantic rhythm. “Oh! You’re so good Rissa, keep going for mommy, I want to feel you cum for me darling” she would murmured into the blondes ear before taking it between her teeth and tugging gently.

Unbeknownst to your slumbering self you’d given your girlfriend the opportunity to hopefully bring her first crush and lover to the bedroom without fear of upsetting you. Seeing the sexual dream that had caused you to entangle your legs to hers, effectively pressing your now dripping warmth to her leg was enough reassurance. All she needed now was the principal to agree.

To say Larissa was expecting the potion teacher to barge into her office with such a personal invitation during school hours would have been insanity, but then again the Addams family love to make keep her on her toes. Truthfully, Principal Weems kept her ex lover former crush on the staff for many reasons. Her teaching for one, to be close to her for another, and the third being those pesky lingering feelings that never left once she left the gates of Nevermore with Gomez. One swift divorce had her back where she belongs it still not hers. No. Because she wanted you.

Meetings with the principal after hours were not uncommon for you as a first year qualified teacher however, seeing Tish sat on her desk as their lips fused together like a centuries old dance was definitely a first. Not that you were complaining at all. In fact, you decided to let them feel the affect they have on you, causing Larissa to let out a whimper of need. “Patience sweetheart, this isn’t about us yet” Morticia reprimanded as she pulled herself away from the shifters body. “Would you care to join us sweet girl? I know just how much you enjoyed your dream the other night, and mommy wants to give that to you baby.”

That’s how you found yourself reliving your first part of your dream, word for word squirming on the sofa by the warm fire. Two pairs of eyes drinking in your now semi naked form. “Much better sweet girl you’re so pretty for mommy baby” your girlfriend praised before swiftly moving to grab the blindfold she’d stashed away before your arrival. From there you were promptly ignored by the older women as Mortica claimed her dominant stance causing Larissa to slip into a happy medium, content to please everyone.

Slender fingers trailed your exposed abdomen ever so lightly that it may as well have been a ghost. A phantom feeling only to be chased away with a rougher texture on your plush thighs. “Mm” you purred happily, Morticia always knew just what you craved without you needing to say it. So there was no surprise when she instructed Larissa to fetch a cold water bottle and roll it over your skin leaving goosebumps in its wake. “C-cold mommy” you whimpered with an adorable pout on your luscious lips. “Oh my poor baby” the faux sympathy rolling off her words in waves. Soon enough there was a soft tassle being dragged all over your body like a snake looking for its prey as it slithers over your bra clad chest.

Soon enough both women grew tired of their little game, deciding that you were all simply too clothed for the occasion. Tish instructed you to try and undress her while your vision was not present but you ended up reaching for Weems instead. A quick tut of disapproval soon had you swivelling around to please her only to lose your balance. “Such a silly baby, can’t even undress me. Well Larissa will have to do it seems I know she can be a good girl for me.”

Only when Larissa freed the older woman from her garments did she get permission to strip down herself while Morticia ripped the skimpy lace off your body. “Please can I play with her Mommy?” Larissa mumbled completely star struck by your bare body. With a wave of the other woman’s hand Larissa immediately yanked you onto your hands and knees and settled under your body. Mortica coming to sit on the arm rest and spreading her legs for you to be eye to eye with her aching core. “Get to work little slut, be good for me baby.”

You immediately delve into her awaiting cunt, blindly missing your target by an inch causing your lover to grab a fist fall of hair to guide you, all while Larissa happily began to kiss and lick your pillowy thighs before eating you out like a starved woman. Soon enough the office was filled with the sweetest moans where French and English words blended together in the height of her enjoyment. Larissa simply moaning shamelessly into your soaked pussy causing you to mirror her with the raven haired woman’s clit pulsing between your lips. “Oh fuck baby! Right there pretty whore. Best whore for mommy” her praise only spurring on your determination to please her. Only when you decide to plunge two fingers into her greedy core did she cum as you happily lapped up your reward before tumbling over the edge yourself.

“Oh sweet girl your blindfolds all wet.” She mock gasped before ripping it off your head to examine it. “Messy whore” was offered by the blonde whose mouth was coated in your arousal and cum. All while you were blinking rapidly trying to maintain your position not wanting to disappoint them. Inevitability your shaking legs failed you causing you to collapse against the sofa earning a time out.

That’s how you found yourself sat on the floor, let’s spread wide, hands behind your back as you watched Tish bring Larissa over the edge time after time, lavishing her on sweet praise with ever orgasm, while you sat untouched and ignored. Every little needy sound that slipped past your lips bought the blonde another high. Every time you moved from your position brought your girlfriend a chance to feel the bliss while you sat there watching another woman have her screaming and crying out with pure pleasure. On one hand you were jealous as sin on the other it was hot as hell and what a spectacular show to be blessed with. Perhaps that’s why you behaved.

Tish had simply lost count of how many times she’d rode the waves of pleasure, simply forgetting how good Larissa is in the department before she had some experience. However, she’s not as young as she was back then and her body simply requires a break which is why Larissa gets you resting against your mommy’s front, legs spread as she instructs you to keep your gaze on the ceiling. Fuck. Mirrors. Everywhere, you realised. “Gonna make you watch how much of a filthy slut you look like as you fall apart for another woman” she stated before setting to work in trailing her fingers through your slick. “So fucking messy sweet girl, eyes on the ceiling or I’ll make mommy hold your head that way” the blonde threatens before unleashing a whole new burst of energy on your pleading core.

“Tish, the whore won’t look” Larissa grumbled noticing how your head had dropped to the side after the second orgasm. “Mommy, too much” you slurred letting out a little squeal when Larissa touched your oversensitive clit. “One more sweet girl, mommys right here, one more baby you can take it. Look how pretty my girl looks.” Her praise combined with the principals three fingers curling just right to hit the perfect spot had you seeing stars and drenching the sofa below you all. It was only after working you down from the high did you let out a sob of “no more” over and over.

Larissa hurrying to find the pre set out aftercare things while morticia hummed a French lullaby, your favourite when this deep into sub space. Your eyes filed with a haze as you immediately began to root around for more skin to skin contact. When Larissa returned with water and sugary treat you seemed to far down which worried her. Yet Tish seemed to know just what to do. After sipping her water and encouraging you to do the same with the support from both women you settled in between them both. Completely submerged into your subby mindset you gently grabbed Larissa’s hand and brought her fingers to your lips before ever so lightly drawing them between your lips. Immediately a content sigh left your body as you snuggled more into your mommy muttering around the slender fingers, “mm we keeps her?” Without knowing Morticia already planned on it.

Word count ~ 2161

[prize-pig-collection]

Dinner and a show

I get my usual order: two triple bacon cheeseburger meals, large. One with a strawberry shake, one with a chocolate shake. You know, so that way they think I’m ordering for me and someone else. Works every time.

I’m shaking with excitement as they hand me the heavy bag of food through the drive-thru window. I know I won’t be able to wait until I get home, so I frantically search for a parking spot. Hopefully the one I picked is secluded enough that no one will notice what’s about to happen…

A few bites into the first burger, and I’m completely focused on stuffing my face. So much so that I don’t notice the giggling from outside the car.

“Holy shit, look at this guy!”

“Eww gross… it’s like he gets off on eating like a pig or something…”

When I go to reach for one of the boxes of fries, I finally pick up on the fact that I have an audience.

“His tits might be bigger than mine!”

“Look at his belly hanging out… I bet he wants it to touch the steering wheel. Jesus.”

I pick up the pace, shoving in fries by the handful. This is no time for straws, I decide — so I pop the top off my first shake and start chugging. Tiny rivers of milkshake dribble down my chins and onto my overstuffed T-shirt.

…In record time, the last bite makes its way between my greasy lips. I lean back, breathless and moaning, and start massaging my bloated gut.

Suddenly I hear a knock on the window.

“Open up, pig.”

I nervously fumble for the switch and roll the window down.

“Buuuuurp… Oh fuck, sorry. What’s up?”

My visitor raises two giant bags to eye level, packed full of food. I swear one of them is actually dripping grease.

“You’re a greedy little pig, aren’t you? You just never want to stop eating, huh?”

I’m sweating, partially from the massive binge, and partially from the embarrassment.

“You want to outgrow this car? You want your dick, and your legs, to be buried in blubber, so that all you can do with your life is eat and grow??”

All I can manage is a whimper of agreement.

“Well here you go, fat boy. Eat up. And if you’re a good pig for me, there’ll be plenty more where that came from. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

I dutifully rip open the first bag and get started. After all, I want to be a good pig.

[callsign-joyride]

Fortnight | J.H.S

Summary: You realize that things with Jake aren't going to work out. Content Warnings: Angst (LOTS of it) Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x reader Lyric: "Thought of calling you, but you won't pick up. 'Nother fortnight lost in America." A note: I've been loving TTPD so I've decided to write fanfics inspired by the album! Each fic will be based on a different track/lyric, and they will all be about different characters! Some will be smutty, others not so much.

You thought that you were happy with Jake. Really, you did. Despite the fact that both of you were out of town, you had managed to stay together for almost a year and you were already moved in. You had met each other’s families a few times, and everything seemed to be going good. That was until you started to have work trip after work trip with your promotion, and he had what felt like back-to-back deployments.You only had two months and some weekends together out of the upcoming year, as far as both of you knew. 

It was starting to get to a point where you were considering leaving and moving back home. Maybe this wasn’t a lifestyle that you were cut out for. Penny would come by the apartment a few times a week when you were both gone to dust and make sure that nothing was stolen, but it wasn’t an ideal situation at all. You finally broke down and cried three months into Jake’s deployment.

“I don’t think I can do this anymore… I did the math and we’ll barely see each other over the next year. We both travel a lot for our jobs now, but I didn’t think it would be like this,” you said, over wine with your girl friends from work.

“Aw, hun, I know exactly how you feel. Things on your end should be calming down in the next few months. I wasn’t home much in my first year, either,” Estelle said.

“But that’s the thing, I don’t know if I can make it a few more months. I feel like I’m missing out on what the other couples are doing because my boyfriend is overseas doing God knows what and I’m always on another plane.”

“You should try to give him a call when you sober up. Tell him what you want.”

You finished your glass of wine and went back up to your hotel room. Calling him late at night would be too much work, and you were too tired to even try it. So, you tried to call him in the morning when you were feeling better, like Estelle said.

“Hey, this is Hangman. Leave a message.”

You sighed and heard the tone beep before taking a deep breath and taking a moment to think of what you were going to say.

“Hey, I really need to talk to you about something. It’s important. Call me back when you get the chance.”

He have good enough service to check his voicemails and text messages until it was around dinner time for you. And of course, his phone was barely working, so all he could get from the message was that it was from you and you were upst about something. 

“Rooster, man, I need to borrow your phone! My girl called, she was upset about something.”

“Alright, but make it quick. I told my wife I’d call her as soon as I got the chance.”

“Thanks, I owe you.”

Jake sat on his bed before he dialed your number. It was so relieving to hear your voice, and you didn’t sound so upset this time.

“Hello?” You asked.

“Hey, it’s me. My phone’s being a piece of shit right now so I only heard part of your message. Is everything okay?”

You sighed and sat on the hotel bed.

“No, actually. Jake, I’m sorry. I don’t know if I can make this work anymore.”

“What… What do you mean by that?”

“I love you, but I don’t know if all of the distance and us traveling all the time will work out. We’ll hardly be seeing each other at all this year, I did the math. And, you know, I thought being a Navy girlfriend would be easy, but that was before I got promoted. I know that none of this has been planned, but I’m traveling so much that I don’t know if this relationsip will work anymore.”

“Fuck, okay, well, maybe there’s something I can do, right?”

“I don’t want you to lose your job because of me, and I don’t wanna jinx it but, it seems like I’m the only reason you’d come home early, and there isn’t an emergency.”

“So, what’s next?”

“Well, I’m gonna start looking for places soon. There’s a chance I’ll be moved out by the time you get back. I’m really sorry, Jake. Truly.”

“I am, too.”

You weren’t in a rush to move out, but you did start to put non-essential things in boxes while you looked for apartments. There was a brief moment where you thought of moving back home to New Hampshire, but it wouldn’t really work out because of your job. Between traveling for work and awkwardly exchanging texts with Jake and the Dagger Squad, you were finally moved out after a month and a half. 

The last time that you saw Jake, it was when you met up to fill out paperwork to be removed from the lease. You still felt awful about everything. He’d try to call you over the next few months, but you never answered. You never read any of his texts, either.

“Hey! If you’re hearing this, I’m busy. Leave a message and I’ll get back to you!” 

He quickly got used to hearing your voicemail, and eventually stopped calling.

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[smoshyourheadin]

spencer’s funeral and his partner is the special guest and roasts spencer so hard and than revels that they are getting a cat together but everyone thinks it’d a baby announcement lmaoooo or however you wanna end it

Special News

pairing: spencer agnew x f! reader

a/n: anon i love this idea so much!! guys please don’t come at me for these terrible jokes i’m just a girl really 😜 also i’m posting sm rn go me

requests are open <33

“lebron james inspired us with his baller moves. steph curry inspired us with his words. spencer agnew inspired us by being a piece of shit, so we would never follow in his footsteps.”

you’re stood at the podium of the funeral, spencer in the coffin next to you holding a bouquet of plastic flowers as he tries not to laugh.

“spencer is a gamer, and we all know that. but if he spent as much time with me as he does on world of warcraft, i’d be the happiest girl on earth, but hey, at least he has a high gear score to keep him company whilst i cook.”

you see everyone laugh as you switch the paper, angela cackling over what you thought was a pretty shit joke.

as the laughter dies down, you continue on. “spencer and me only ever disagree over stupid things, and i think to myself, he must know he’s short when he has to look up to see eye-to-eye with someone who's shorter than him, because i’m always right. i’m sure courtney feels the same about shayne.”

at this, courtney yells “FACTS!” from behind one of the cameras, and you shoot her a wink.

shayne then stares you down, and all you say is “shayne don’t worry, i’m a short king ally!” which he just smirks at.

“i have some pretty bad jokes here, so let’s quickfire some.“ you mutter to everyone.

“if sleeping on my arm were an olympic sport, he’d have more gold than michael phelps.” this earns a giggle from spencer, as you have a folder on your phone of him asleep in the most awkward ways possible, always lying on your arm somehow.

“he’s so obsessed with video games, even his posture looks like it's from a character model that hasn't loaded properly yet.“ this makes everyone cackle, spencer opening one eye to glare at you, and you just laugh him off.

“your gamer boy posture is so bad, chiropractors have your picture on their vision boards on what to improve on.”

“do you guys think that,” you exhale through your nose at what patrick has written on your prompt card. “spencer’s idea of sitting normally the same as a pretzel’s idea of being straight?” which is so bad it’s good, making you crouch down to laugh.

you stand back up after a moment, your stomach twisting over what you’re about to do. it’s going to be so worth it, but gosh you feel bad.

“spencer, my lovely boyfriend, is a mt dew kickstart addict, certified gamer girl, and a soon to be father” and at this last statement, everyone gasps, and spencer’s eyes shoot open and he sits up. he looks at you intently, and you see him experience about a hundred emotions at once

you smile at everyone, turning to a camera, pulling out a printed off certificate of adoption, a picture of a tiny ginger cat taped to it.

“we got a cat!” you say, almost proud of how shocked everyone is

as you turn to look at spencer, you hear shayne’s laugh, and you look at spencer with sympathetic eyes, mouthing ‘i love you’ to him over all the laughter. he just smiles, knowing that this cat is going to be so loved by you both. especially you. because you love him so much.

as you sit back down, spencer sits up. having come back from the dead, he has some things to say. he goes through everyone at his funeral; alex, shayne, damien, tommy, selina, and then, you.

“and finally, my beautiful girlfriend, y/n. my bundle of sunshine, blinding and hard to look at directly.” you scoff at this, and he looks at you with a look that says this is a joke please don’t kill me when we’re home.

“i mean, come on, you cry at surf's up? i guess even animated penguins have higher emotional intelligence than you.” he manages to say through a fit if giggles. spencer always teases you for this, even though he cries at the NGE film. loser.

after wrap, courtney comes over to congratulate you on your cat, and just catch up generally.

“so, cat parents hey? proud of you girl” she says with a grin.

“yeah, i kinda feel bad scaring everyone into thinking spencer gets game in bed.” you reply, earning a laugh from her.

“don’t be mean to me! i’m a player you know?” spencer says coming up behind you.

“okay, sure you are mr ‘i cry at anime’.” you snap back.

he throws his hands up in defeat, and you kiss his cheek, going off to see amanda.

“she’s so cool.” courtney says

“yeah,” spencer replies. “she’s not that bad.”

she elbows him in the ribs, and he clutches his side

“i mean, she’s the best!” he says through strained teeth, courtney doing a proud nod before catching you up.

[faithshouseofchaos]

He’s not as cold as you think— hockey player Kimi Raikkonen x reader

Part six

As Kimi arrived at his parents' house in Finland, he was immediately greeted by the familiar warmth and love that had always surrounded him since his childhood. His mother, Paula, and his father, Matti, hurried to embrace him with open arms, their faces lighting up with genuine joy.

Paula pulled back slightly, her eyes searching her son's face intently. "Kimi, dear, you seem different," she observed, her voice carrying a tinge of curiosity. "There's a sparkle in your eyes that I don't think I've seen in a while. What has happened?"

Kimi, still holding his mother in his arms, couldn't help but smile at her observation. He knew that he had indeed been feeling different lately, but he hadn't really stopped to consider how it might show on the outside. His parents had always been able to read him like an open book.

He gently pulled back, rubbing the back of his neck in a slightly embarrassed manner. "Well, Mom, I guess you could say I've met someone," he admitted softly, his voice tinged with a mix of warmth and vulnerability. Paula's expression brightened even more, and she let out a soft gasp of excitement. "Oh, Kimi, that's wonderful news!" she said, her eyes gleaming with joy. "Tell us all about her! What is she like? Is she special to you?" She gently grasped his arm, eagerly waiting for details. As Paula's excitement filled the air, Matti, standing nearby, couldn't help but join in the moment. He, too, was curious about this newfound love in his son's life.

Kimi, feeling a bit overwhelmed by their enthusiasm, cleared his throat before responding. "Well, her name is Y/n," he began, his voice full of warmth. "She's smart, kind, and has a sense of humour that always catches me off guard. And, somehow, she manages to make my heart feel alive in a way I didn't know was possible."

Paula and Matti exchanged a knowing smile, their hearts swelling with happiness for their son. "That sounds like a remarkable woman, Kimi," Paula said softly, her eyes shimmering with emotion. "And if she can make your heart feel alive, she must be something incredibly special." She gently reached out to cup his face in her hands. "We're so glad that you've found someone who brings you such joy. We can't wait to meet her."

Kimi, feeling a mix of embarrassment and love, managed a soft smile. "Yeah, I guess she is special," he admitted, his voice filled with a newfound vulnerability as he glanced at his parents. "And I'd like nothing more than for you to meet her. In fact, I'm planning on bringing her here to Finland to meet you both soon." Paula's eyes widened with excitement and she gasped softly. "Oh, Kimi, that would be absolutely wonderful," she exclaimed, her voice filled with happiness. "We can't wait to meet the woman who has captured your heart. Please make sure to bring her here soon." She squeezed his arm lovingly.

Matti chuckled softly, placing a hand on Kimi's shoulder. "We always knew you'd find someone who could melt that icy exterior of yours, son.

Kimi let out a soft laugh, his eyes twinkling with a renewed warmth. "Well, I think she's already started melting it in ways I never expected," he admitted, his voice tinged with a mix of fondness and disbelief. "But I guess that's what love does, right?" he grinned, still a touch of his confident arrogance shining through. Paula chuckled softly, her eyes filled with affection. "Indeed, love has a way of melting the coldest of hearts," she said, a touch of wisdom in her voice. "And from the sound of it, you're well on your way to thawing completely."

Matti grinned as well, patting his son's shoulder heartily. "Look at our little Kimi, all grown up and in love,"

Kimi rolled his eyes playfully, a hint of a grin playing on his lips. "Yeah, yeah, I guess the 'little Kimi' has grown up," he teased, his voice tinged with a mix of amusement and embarrassment. "But I have to admit, I wasn't expecting love to hit me quite like this. But I must say, I wouldn't have it any other way." He smiled warmly, feeling a sense of contentment and contentment settle within him.

Paula and Matti exchanged a happy glance, both filled with contentment and joy that their son had found love. "We couldn't be happier for you, Kimi," Paula said softly, her voice filled with sincerity. "We've always wanted you to find someone who brings out the best in you, and it seems like Y/n is doing just that."

Matti nodded, his eyes twinkling with warmth. "You deserve all the happiness in the world, son. And if she can make you smile like this, then she's definitely a keeper."

Kimi's heart swelled with love and gratitude for his parents. "Thanks, Mom, Dad," he said softly, his voice carrying a hint of vulnerability. "I'm glad you approve. And I promise, I'll bring Y/n here to meet you soon. I know you'll love her just as much as I do."

As the conversation continued, Paula and Matti eagerly listened to their son share more about Y/n, their hearts filled with joy at the prospect of meeting the woman who had stolen their son's heart. As the night grew late and the conversation died down, Kimi excused himself to head to his room, feeling a mix of contentment and exhaustion. As he lay in bed, his thoughts drifted to y/n and the love they shared. He fell asleep with a smile on his face, his heart feeling warmer and more alive than it had been in a long time.

Tagged — @a-casual-romantic @amatswimming @67-angelofthelordme-67 @anedpev @ashy-kit @astraeaworld @alwayzbeenale @bblouifford @badassturtle13 @bbtoni @barcelonaloverf1life @charlesf1leclerc @clowngirlsstuff @crashingwavesofeuphoria @dark-night-sky-99 @dudenhaaa27 @entr4p3 @embrosegraves @eugene-emt-roe @formulas-bitch @f1ln4dr3cl16mv33 @formulaal @hangmandruigandmav @hollie911 @ironcowboycopnickel @jeffs77 @kimiracing07 @lightdragonrayne @lollypop90907 @laura-naruto-fan1998 @omgsuperstarg @oconswrld @otako5811 @purplephantomwolf @raikkxz @strugglingyetvibing @sweate-r-weathe-r @swifth0lic @tallrock35 @toasttt11 @the-ghost-lovwr @uluvjay @vellicora @venusisnothere

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

heylooo maggots *waves*

may's nearly over and because of a lot of chaotic things, i never did manage to make a post properly thanking you all for everything you did for my birthday on 7th. but here i am and so i wanna say thank you so much. you all did so much for me, wishing me and sending me cards and making me a playlist and writing fanfiction and making art and just sending so much love that it made it the best birthday i've ever had in my life, during one of the most turbulent times of my life.

here's a secret i didn't tell you that day. some of you may remember back when i was debating whether or not i wanted to go to college, even though i'd got in a good one. well, i did decide to, but then they were really horrid to my mum about a scholarship and so instead of design i applied to a different art school instead and i did get in. but by then i was so exhausted, of choices being taken away from me and of the messiness in my irl family and needing to move house but not being able to and queerphobia everywhere. anyway.

my mum had taken me for a drive, that evening, with my doggy, roxie. and we were discussing all of this and god i was so tired and miserable and so when we got out of the car back home i just burst into tears and i was sick and then i just sort of. sat down. right there on the road.

and i didn't know how to get up. i was so fucking tired of everything and i couldn't make myself get up, and i don't know how long i would have sat there, stressing my mum and roxie out, if i hadn't remembered you all.

and i remembered that you'd done so much and you were waiting for me to get upstairs and talk to you and you'd worry if i were late and i could cut my cake with you, like i wanted to, and you would make me laugh and cry and smile.

and that's the only reason i was able to get up, and get back home. and the rest of the night was beautiful, because i spent it with you.

so... so thank you. so, so much. you've saved my life so many times and changed it in so many ways. whether i've interacted with you personally or not. the fact that i know you're all there, it keeps me going, and you gave me a family.

i love you i love you i love you so fucking much.

i love you. you are so fucking loved. i can't even begin to put it into words.

the world's pretty shite at times but maybe we get through it together it'll be survivable and it might even be fun, sometimes.

have the loveliest of days, maggots.

-asmi

[artistsfuneral]

I'm always a sucker for Witcher fics where someone comes to the keep really young (maybe Eskel?) and they don't speak the common language at ALL and it's even more terrifying and confusing what's happening to them. Cue lots of friendships and learning how to find their place!

ohohohohohohoho yesssss ❤✨ also isn't it canon that Eskel came from "mountain people"? It would make sense that toddler Eskel only speaks Norwegian Northern (also I started learning norwegian for no reason whatsover, so I am going to use my 100 words)

deaged!Eskel, shy toddlers, softe Geralt and awkward Lambert

It was common knowledge that most of the collected artefacts in the dungeons of Kear Morhen were cursed in one way or another. So it wasn't all that surprising, when one of them started to omniously glow once Lambert got too close to it by accident. It also wasn't very surprising that the youngest wolf was quickly shoved away by Eskel, kind, protective Eskel, who promptly ended up at the center of the curse's magic.

The tiny toddler that appeared where the full grown witcher once stood, was unexpected though. Lambert had been prepared to fight a monster, but his drawn sword prooved to be rather counterproductive when it was noticed by big brown baby eyes that immediately turned teary at the sight of danger. The loud crying that followed strangled Lambert's heart painfully.

"Oh, no, no, no! Please don't cry, I don't know what to do, when you cry!" Panicking, Lambert did the only thing that came to his mind and he reached out to pick the tiny toddler up. The witcher looked helplessly around the room, as if any of the artefacts could provide him with the secret knowledge of childcare. Eskel didn't stop crying.

"Uh- Let's get you to Geralt, okay? You like Geralt right? You're best buds, he will know what to do."

Alarmed by the sounds of a crying child, Geralt was already halfway down the keep, when Lambert reached him. The - currnetly not - youngest wolf hastened his steps and practically shoved tiny Eskel into Geralt's arms. "Lambert, what on earth?" Adjusting his hold instinctively, Geralt started to rock the toddler in his arms, one hand gently petting the mop of unruly brown hair. "Uh- that's Eskel," Lambert managed to blurt out.

"Eskel?"

"He got cursed. Down in the dungeon. I didn't know what to do, not sure he recognized me." Geralt hummed. "If it truly is Eskel, then we might have a small problem."

"What, why?" Lambert's eyes darted down from Geralt's to look a the small figure sniffling in the witcher's arms. "He's was born up north," Geralt explained slowly, "didn't speak a word of common when he first got here. It took him years to learn." Lambert's mouth went dry.

What Geralt didn't seem to know was that Lambert could in fact speak most northern dialects. But what on earth could he possibly say to a tiny child he already managed to bring to tears seconds after meeting him? He took a shaking breath, "Går det bra med deg?"

Eskel's reaction was immediate. His little head snapped up from where he had been hiding it under Geralt's chin and he stared at Lambert with wide eyes. "Hva?"

"Går det bra?" Lambert repeated, trying his best to ignore Geralt's confused stare. Between snotty sniffles a small voice that sounded nothing like the Eskel they knew, the child answered. "Ja, bra."

Lambert let out a sigh of relief. "He says he's alright, probably just got scared." Geralt's shoulders relaxed visibly. "Didn't know you speak northern."

"Wasn't exactly needed until now."

"Can you ask him, if he knows who we are? Does he recognize us at all?"

Lambert blinked at the other wolf. Angry, at himself, for not thinking about asking such an important question. He focused his gaze back at Eskel. "Vet du hvem jeg er?" A wide, toothy grin spread across Eskel's little face. His chubby little finger pointed straight at Lambert and he exclaimed proudly, "Ulv! Rød ulv!" The action was quickly followed by a similarly enthusiastic pointing, this time at Geralt, "Hvit Ulven!"

Lambert chuckled. "I think he'll be alright."