#but that intelligence makes her fucking STUPID

[shaunamilfman]

it's just indifference

pairing: shauna shipman x reader summary: You couldn't bite back your bitchy comment as Shauna walked in twenty minutes later than you agreed upon to work on your project, but you soon found that you couldn't regret it at all as you realized how hot she was when she was mad. Especially when it makes her stare you down as she climbs into your lap. note: smut if it isn't obvious.

Had Shauna shown up on time, this never would have happened. But she was, in fact, twenty minutes late, and you couldn’t resist the urge to let out an irritated sigh as she walked into your room. She stops in the doorway, her hand clenched tightly around your door knob before she lets out a deep breath and closes it behind her. The door clicks shut gentler than you thought her capable of as she starts rifling through her bag for her notebooks.

“Practice ran late,” she says stiffly, a noticeable lack of apology as she collapses into your desk chair. 

You weren’t planning on purposely pissing her off, but you quickly realized how hot she was as silently raged in the corner of your room. You were almost amazed at how quickly it happened, how quick she was to anger. It must’ve been something at practice, or on the drive to whatever friend she had to drop off. 

It’s why the two of you ended up at your house instead of the library, as you only lived a few streets down. You certainly weren’t complaining. It saved you the hours you would’ve spent fucking around in the library till she got out of practice.

“Yeah, I guess when that’s all you have going for you, it must take priority.”

Her hand slams down on the desk with enough force that it shakes against the wall. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

You shrug leisurely, sitting up on your bed to get a better look at her. “Nothing.”

“No, obviously, you have something you want to say. Go ahead,” she says, leaning towards you, not the slightest bit self-conscious of the way it gives you a clear view down her shirt. Her eyes widen with realization as she catches your eyes flicking downward, her expression turning smug at the sign of interest.

“I guess I’m just tired of having to do all the work because some idiot jock wants to chase a ball around a field all day.”

“I’m not stupid.” She crosses her arms over her chest, her foot tapping impatiently against the ground.

Thinking Shauna was stupid was far from the truth– you were actually quite relieved when you realized you’d been paired together, knowing from personal experience just how smart she was. You’d caught sight of her last English test grade, after all. You’re not sure you’ve ever seen her get her test handed back face down, so you figured she had to be pretty intelligent. Still, it seemed like a quick way to piss her off.

“Is that right?” You ask, feigning disinterest. “Guess I’m just not a fan of your type, then.”

“Not a fan of me, you mean. Whatever. You’re not the first person to assume that all I can do is look pretty and kick a ball.” She scowls.

You laugh, laying back against the bed. “I never said you were pretty.”

“Oh? So you’ve got jokes now, huh?”

“Why? You too sensitive for them?”

She stiffens at that, her brown eyes flashing with annoyance as she stares down at her notes like her life depended on it. 

“Is that what you think?” She asks, her body tensing as she tries to bite back a harsh retort. Instead, she sighs out slowly, silently trying to get a handle on her rage as she clenches her pencil tight enough that her hand shakes with the effort. You watch as her knuckles whiten, a harsh set of her jaw that makes you want to push against that fragile sense of control until she snaps.

“Yeah,” you say slowly. “Do you need me to use smaller words?”

That’s it. Her pencil snaps, her notes scattering to the floor as she stands up. She marches toward you, each step heavy and filled with intent. You prop yourself lazily on your elbows as she approaches, standing at the foot of the bed as she shakes beneath the weight of her rage.

“Mm. You don’t like me,” she starts, the bed sinking beneath her as she crawls toward you. You gasp sharply as one of her knees comes to rest against your hip, and then soon the other, straddling you on her knees. 

“But you want me.” 

Your hands come up to rest on her hips, a movement so unconscious that you don’t even realize till you feel the warmth of her against your palms even through her shorts. She smirks down at you, her gaze almost predatory as she takes in the sight of you.

“You think pretty highly of yourself, don’t you?” You ask, lamely. It’s not your best response by miles, but you’re far too focused on not embarrassing yourself further as she sinks down in your lap. 

You inhale sharply at the sudden weight resting against you, a reaction that clearly delights Shauna as she grips a fist full of your shirt between her fingers. 

She laughs, quiet and far too knowing as she slowly rocks her hips forward. The bed creaks with each powerful roll of her hips, the muscles in her thighs flexing distractingly all the while. You’re so distracted, in fact, that you don’t realize her hand has moved until it’s gripping your chin. Her thumb digs painfully into your jaw as she forces you to look at her. 

“Just highly enough, I think.” Shauna’s voice lowers into a whisper as she leans closer, turning your head to mouth at your neck. “Don’t act like you don’t like it. I’m pretty perceptive, you know.”

She pulls back, leaving you to chase after her lips before you get ahold of yourself.

“Perceptive, huh?” you ask, running your hands up her sides as you lift her shirt up. Your fingers rest just under her bra, your thumbs just grazing her chest as you watch the intoxicating way she moves. You can’t tear your eyes away from the way her muscles tense, following her as she moves. She hums, leaning forward to show off as she enjoys how blatantly you were staring at her.

“What am I thinking right now?”

“If I answer that, you’ll just deny it.” She moans as she hits just the right angle, her hips stuttering for a moment before she recovers.

“Try it?”

“You’re thinking about how good I feel on your lap,” she tries, keeping a steady rhythm as she lets you pull her shirt off and over her head. You go straight for her arms, squeezing her biceps happily as you test their firmness. You can’t help but grin: she’s just as strong as you imagined she was. 

Her breath hitches as your fingers graze her stomach, blushing prettily as she catches you staring at her chest. “And,” she continues, grabbing at your wrists as she pins them down. “You’re thinking you’d like to know how strong I am.”

“Wrong,” you murmur. 

She laughs, a dry mocking sound that sends shivers down your spine. Her hands move from your wrists to rest on your stomach as she rests her weight on you, a grounding pressure that keeps all your attention on her as she pushes you down into the bed.

“Yeah?” she asks breathily, clenching the fabric of your shirt between her fingers and watching as it exposes the skin of your stomach.

“Thinking about how much I'd rather be doing our English project.”

She snorts, a dorky laugh escaping that clearly embarrasses her as her hips still. She looks away, hiding the flush of her face as she stares daggers at the sheets. 

“No,” you say, amused. “Keep going. I like the whole thing you have going on.” 

“That right?”

“Yeah, it's working for you. You look hot.”

“Hotter than Jackie?” She asks. 

“Who?”

Her expression is unreadable, a dozen different emotions crossing her face before she finally settles on one you've never seen from her: hunger. She surges forward, capturing your lips in a messy kiss as she roughly grinds down against your lap. 

You gasp, digging your fingers into her hips as you pull her harder against you. She moans against your skin, sucking a mark into the line of your jaw as her nails drag across your stomach. Her body’s warm where it's pressed against you, nearly chest-to-chest as she takes what she needs from you.

Her back arches as you blindly reach between your bodies, fingers teasing at the waistband of her shorts as your fingertips just barely slip beneath them. “You’re so annoying,” she murmurs, her breath hot against your skin as her teeth graze delicately along the skin beneath your jaw.

“God…” she pants, her face buried into your neck as she lets out a whine. Her jaws a little slack, lips parted as quiet sounds are forced out of her.

“You’re so pretty,” you murmur idly, your thumb rubbing across the button of her pants.

“Shut up.” She huffs. “You're so stupid.”

You nod, stupidly, eager to please as your fingers make light work of opening up her shorts. She sighs as the button comes undone, the cool air rushing against her warm skin. She only gets more eager as your fingers slowly pull down the zipper, letting out a breathless laugh against your skin.

She shudders against you as the palm of your hand presses against her stomach, your fingers nearly dipping into her underwear, but not quite.

“Stupid,” she mumbles against your skin. Shauna’s trying to come off as annoyed, but her voice is too breathy and shaky to be effective. “Stupid and dumb and…” She trails off, her body jolting as your hand sneaks beneath the denim.

“And?” You prompt, palming her warm skin through the fabric of her panties.

“Don’t–” Her words cut off with a sharp gasp, her teeth sinking into your skin as she struggles between pushing up against your hand or pressing down against your lap, lost in her need for some kind of friction.

“I hate you,” she says, fingers clutching at your shirt as if to pull you closer. Despite her complaints, she makes no effort to remove your hand from her shorts, shifting on top of you to spread her knees wider. Her voice is strangled as she pants against your throat, shuddering against a particularly clever brush of your fingers—she's so wound up and it's making her desperate.

“You’re kind of mean,” you comment, pressing your palm against her clit as you slip a finger inside her. Her thighs squeeze tightly around your hips, her knees digging into your sides as she stares down at you. Her eyes are slightly unfocused, her teeth digging into her lip to keep herself quiet.

She props herself up on her arms, hands resting on either side of your head as her hair brushes against your face. Shauna uses the position to her advantage, rolling her hips into your hand as she uses her leverage.

“You deserve it,” she huffs, trying to glare at you but ending up moaning as your fingers keep their pace. Her thighs jerk, hips rolling in desperate circles as you coax the pleasure out of her with each torturously slow thrust. She’s wound up so tight she can barely stand it.

“Shut up, shut up, shut up–” Shauna breaks off into a moan, her fingers digging painfully into your shoulder in retaliation.

She’s arching into your hand, her body trembling with each gasp that escapes her. Shauna’s pissed, and more than a little humiliated to find herself so quickly at your mercy. It’s clear that this wasn’t how she saw this whole night going. She can’t help the roll of her hips against your hand, forcing you deeper as she practically rides your finger. “Give me another one,” she demands.

“Would it kill you to be nicer?” You mutter, slipping another finger inside of her with little complaint. She cries out, a flash of embarrassment crossing her face at how sensitive she is.

“Would it kill you to stop– to stop talking?” 

You groan, one hand fisting in her hair as you pull her neck close enough to reach with your mouth. Shauna moans at the flash of pain, and whether it was the hand pulling her hair or the feeling of your teeth sinking into her neck that made her eyes slam shut as she cries out and buries her face into your shoulder, you’ll never know.

“Did you just–” 

She slaps a hand over your mouth, embarrassed and shy all of the sudden as she lazily rocks into your hand. 

“No,” she hisses, shaking her head even her face flushes a deep red. Her chest heaves as she tries to catch her breath, a distracting motion that makes your view down her bra all that more enticing. Her thighs tremble around you, telling enough that even she starts to realize how stupid she looks denying it. 

She nearly whimpers as you give her hair a little tug, her hips twitching as she bites her lip to stifle the noise. Shauna’s so sensitive in the aftermath, but she can’t seem to fully pull herself away from you.

“Don’t. Don’t you dare say anything,” she warns.

She pulls her hand away with a gasp as you bite at her fingers, examining them closely as she sits up on your hips. Shauna still can't meet your eye, steadfastly refusing to acknowledge the hand you still have shoved in her pants as she pretends to look at literally anything else in your room. 

“It's okay,” you start, a mocking press of your palm against her that has her grinding on your hand again. “I heard finishing too soon–”

“You're the worst,” she manages through gritted teeth, her jaw clenched as she finally manages to look you in the eye. Despite her complaints she's still moving steadily against your hand, the rock of her hips putting your wrist in an uncomfortable position now that she's sitting up. 

She opens her mouth, presumably to complain as you pull your hand away, but she shuts up just as quickly as your fingers curl around her chin. Her eyes flick down at your hand, your wet fingers leaving streaks against her face where you hold her. 

You watch as her mouth parts, licking her lips before reaching for your hand. She watches you closely as she slowly takes your fingertip into her mouth, her tongue darting out to lap at the web of your fingers before she moves onto the next. She’s almost methodical in her movements, actions perfectly designed to drive you crazy. 

God, she was just something else.

“You know what I’m thinking about now?” You ask, unable to take your eyes off of her for even a second.

She hums around your fingers in lieu of an answer, the vibrations making your breath hitch as you stutter over a reply. “Thinking about how good you’d look underneath me.”

Shauna can't speak with your fingers in her mouth and instead lets out a low whine as she sucks on them, tongue swirling around them as she turns her attention to your last finger. 

Shauna pulls your fingers out with a wet pop, holding on to your wrist as she drags your spit soaked fingers across your face. You wrinkle your nose as you squirm away from it, but she only delights in your reaction. “That’s for pissing me off,” she mutters, just low enough that you weren’t sure whether it was meant for you or not.

“You don’t think I look good on top of you?” she continues, leaning back on her knees as her fingers play with the waistband of her panties. You watch as her fingertips just barely slides beneath, ensuring she has your attention before the rest of her hand disappears into her panties.

It's too much for her, you can tell. She's so sensitive that she can barely take it, but she stubbornly refuses to stop. The expression on her face verges on pained, a choked noise leaving her lips as her hips jerk clumsily against her hand. 

She's battling the urge to keep her eyes focused on you, just barely starting to slip shut before she catches herself. “Fucker,” she grumbles, enjoying your attention despite herself. You run your hands up her thighs, scratching your nails down the length of them as Shauna squirms on top of you. 

The muscles in her thighs tremble from the effort after spending so long riding you, on top of the time she's spent practicing. You're impressed she's managed it this long. You can't even imagine how sore she must be. It makes you wonder how long she could go at the top of her game, how long she could–

“Hey,” she whines. “Pay attention. Do you have something better to do?” Shauna can barely find the strength to ride her hand anymore, settling for a slow grind as the sweat drips down her face. Her head is thrown back as she finally lets her eyes closed, exposing the delicate arch of her neck and the beginnings of a dark bruise you'd sucked into her neck. 

You can't take it anymore, reaching up and pulling her down to meet your lips before flipping her on her back. Shauna grunts in surprise, squirming beneath you as she pulls her hand out of her shorts. She tugs at the back of your shirt, pulling it over your head and making you flail around like an idiot as she gets it stuck on your arms. 

You throw it to the floor with a huff as you finally manage to untangle yourself from it, glaring down at her as she grins from ear-to-ear. 

With her back pressed up against the bed, she looks a little more disheveled than before: her hair messy as it spreads around her head, her face flushed with heat as she gives you a familiar smirk. 

Shauna laughs, wrapping her legs around your waist and pulling you closer, forcing you down on top of her. She looks so smug, so pleased with herself that all you want to do is wipe that cocky look from her face. You push up on your knees, ignoring her complaint as you trail kisses down her neck. 

You can't resist mouthing at her chest through her bra, pulling away with a teasing nip that has her pulling at your hair as you move to kiss your way down her stomach. You sit back on your knees as you get to her shorts, fingers curling around the waist as you start to work them down her legs. 

Shauna's all too eager to assist, planting her feet and arching her hips off the bed as you pull her shorts down her legs. She makes a pleased noise as you press a kiss against her knee, hooking her other leg over your shoulder and she spreads her knees wider. 

The sound she makes as your lips graze her inner thigh is nothing short of obscene, her hand grabbing at head on nothing but pure reflex. 

Her eyes slam shut in embarrassment as she realizes just how needy she sounds. “You–You're so– God. Just eat me.” She pulls painfully against your hair, clearly trying to save face, but no one has to tell you twice. 

You're eager to finally get a taste, having wanted nothing more than to bury your face in her pussy for most of the night. She cries out at the first touch of your tongue, so sensitive and so worked up that it's clearly all she can do not to come right then. 

Shauna huffs out a laugh as you squeeze her thigh, lazily moving into your mouth in a sign of encouragement. Reassured, you turn your attention back to her clit, giving it as much attention as she can bear. 

She swats your hand away as you tentatively trail it up her thigh, keeping your head in place as she pulls you just where she wants you. Shauna gets so eager that you have to pin her hips down, bucking into your mouth as you start to suck and then–

“Fuck,” she calls out, a high and needy cry that you know she'll deny making when she has the ability to. Her thighs shake uncontrollably on your shoulders, breathing heavily as she comes down. 

“I'm tired,” she whines, trying to arch away into the bed. You rub the outside of her thigh comfortingly, tentatively licking into her as she relaxes. 

“Stop. Stop,” she pants, her foot pressing into your side. “I can barely think.” 

“What's a jock need to think for, huh?” You ask, pulling your mouth away from her as you stare up at her from between her thighs. You glance down meaningfully before meeting Shauna's eyes again in a silent question. She seems to honestly consider it for a second before shaking her head, pushing weakly at your face as she lets her legs fall open. 

“You're such a distraction,” she complains, her eyes narrowing on the way your face glistens before forcing herself to look away. “We were supposed to be working on the project, idiot.”

“Finished it before you got here,” you say, flopping down next to her as you stretch out. She turns on her side to face you, her eyes narrowed as she tries to find something else to complain about. 

Finally, after a long minute of contemplation. “You seriously took all my clothes off but my bra?”

You snicker, one arm resting across your eyes as you block out the light. Shauna huffs, hesitantly scooting closer to rest her head on your chest. 

She trails her hand down your stomach, scratching lightly at the skin. “When I can think again,” Shauna warns playfully, lazily snapping the waistband of your underwear against your skin. 

[appleblueberry-pie]

There aren't many Yandere Nanami requests, so I came up with one. How would you react if the reader was a second year student at Jujutsu school, was a beautiful and intelligent woman, and had one of the most powerful rituals in her clan? Maybe she would have tried to get closer, but she didn't count on the fact that she turned out to be Gojo Satoru's girlfriend (this would be set in her teenage years to be precise).

Kento was a little nervous. No, he was extremely nervous and even anxious. He couldn't eat this morning or even eat lunch. He knew he was going to confess to you today. Kento has a hard time with hiding things from people he admires and are close with. So, it's about time to tell you about how he truly feels, knowing it's been clawing at him to finally tell you the truth behind his actions.

The only reason he was regretting this moment and how it can end is because you never seemed fully receptive in his gift giving. He always got you your favorite juice boxes from the vending machines and even bought you lunch a handful of times when you didn't have one. But you always seemed.....he doesn't want to assume, but it kind of feels half-assed when you say you genuinely are grateful for his gifts and his efforts to get to know you better.

But nonetheless, he will tell you today how he truly feels. Right now. As he sits next to you and fiddles with his fingers as you wait for him to spit it out.

"Yes.....um....Y/n, I have to tell you something very important that I feel you deserve to know." You nod and scoot closer, thinking something bad happened, especially with how his voice was shaking and he was almost sweating. "I-...........I have had a romantic interest in you for quite some time now."

He watched your face drop as if you had seen a ghost. You seemed to almost lean away from him when you sat up straighter at his words. His heart dropped at your reaction and his stomach began twisting and turning when your lips pursed together.

He was gonna puke. He can't say anything else knowing you definitely didn't feel the same way. That reaction told him everything he needs to know. He can't even look at you anymore and this silence was giving him a heart attack. God, just say something so he doesn't do something stupid. "Nanami...." You just said his last name instead of his first. What has he done?

"You know I'm dating Satoru, right?"

Would he be crazy for trying to act like he didn't know this? "I......."

You brought your hand to his shoulder, as if you were comforting a child, and suddenly, he felt like a disgusting little kid. He never deserved you. But knowing you will always be had the hands of his terrible classmate will continue to make his heart burn in rage. All he wanted was you, and he can't because he was too late. He can't even prove a point. Not when he was weaker than you. Not when he can't protect you and Gojo can. Not when he was a pathetic little boy holding onto a broken dream to finally have the girl that was meant for him.

'Don't be sorry for me. Don't look at me like that, and please don't tell me that disgusting truth all over again. I see it every day.' He wishes he could say that out loud, but the last thing he wants to do is break your beautiful heart. He wants to hug you, but it would never feel the same as it used to, and all he wants now is for things to be how they used to.

All this does is piss him off even more. He will find a way to have you. If he has to meet your family himself, find a way to kill Gojo Satoru, steal him from you, find a way to meet your strength to show you what devotion means, find a way into your mind to make you see the truth and what will always remain true between him and you, then he'll take his sweet time to get to where he needs to be to make that happen. He will always be yours and you won't know it until he can show you. Until then, he'll take this slap to the face.

i feel so fucking bad for him in this oh my god

[abubblingcandle]

16 y/o jamie au pls!! 🐞🌷

Hi anon! Thank you so much for this! I hoarded this ask for a short period of time because I wanted something more to share about this fic. This ask is from this ask game (which I am always accepting asks from and my inbox is always open to talk about anything) and I've talked about 16 year old Jamie already here and here.

So I've been thinking about the culmination, what do I actually want for Jamie in this fic? I want him to end up being able to be independent, other from the grip of his dad and to be able to life his life how he wants it but with a support network. Which then got me thinkin about who do I want to be this support network?

Immediate thoughts, Ted. But Ted and Jamie in this fic are going to have a rocky af relationship as Ted doesn't really know how to treat Jamie as his own person and as a person who isn't a kid in this setting, he's a member of the team just like everyone else. This is his job, he's not looking for a dad and Ted doesn't comprehend that.

I was thinking Roy but I think Jamie needs Roy as his captain (kind of as his coach) not really anything else. He needs Roy professionally not personally.

Then it came to me ... Beard. Who else really is going to get the concept of the deep need of reclaiming your life as your own and owning your mistakes along with your triumphs because they are yours.

So yeah, I think this has accidentally turned into a Beard mentors Jamie fic and I'm not mad about it!

Here's a little snippet for your lovely ask:

“What do you want Jamie?” Beard’s question, in his typical stoic bluntness, cut through all the frenzied noise. Ted was mid sentence with the cop. Roy was about to punch the social worker if she kept talking. Georgie was crying, leaning into Simon’s shoulder and wiping at her eyes with every breath. Jamie was sat on the hospital bed, fidgeting and slowly unpicking the hem of the sling he had been forced into. He had frozen at Beard’s words and watched with an intelligent and curious glint in his eye as Beard sat down on the bed next to him. “I,” Jamie stammered, looking between all the frenzied adults but his eyes found Beard’s again. “I want to go back to London,” Jamie muttered under his breath. “Really baby? You can stay here with us,” Georgie whispered, looking up at Simon and squeezing his hand as he nodded. But Beard’s faith in him seemed to have opened the floodgates; both for the tears in Jamie’s eyes and for his words. “I just want to be. I want to be able to make my own decisions and do stupid shit on the weekend and forget to do my homework and scrape my knee climbing a tree,” he rambled, wiping his nose on his sleeve. “I want to go back to that fucking house and burn everything that reminds me of him in the garden and decorate my own house that I bought with my fucking money. I want to go get lost in IKEA and then try and build stuff and lose the pieces,” Jamie’s laugh was becoming hysterical as he sobbed and everyone was frozen in place, just gawping and watching the show as any semblance of control shattered in the boy in front of them. “I want to get a hammock for the garden because I know it’s stupid and I know it’s not good for my joints but I’ve always wanted to go in one and it’s, my, life,” Jamie punched the bed with his good arm punctuating each word.

[scary-white]

What do you think it would’ve been like if Sue did tell the gym teacher that the reason she asked Tommy to take Carrie to the prom cause Sue felt bad for what happened in the locker room?

unrealistic. susan is too stupid to make good decisions.

[menelaiad]

helen being smart does not make menelaus stupid.

[vanteguccir]

Sleeping prank | Chris Sturniolo

Chris Sturniolo x reader

Summary: Where Nick pranks Chris and Y/N while they are sleeping.

Warning: None.

Author's note: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

PS.: I know I posted a Matt x reader just some hours ago, but I just watched the triplets' vlog in Texas and had this idea, I've never written so fast 😫.

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Nick walked towards the double bed closest to the hotel room's door, their vlogging camera in his right hand, while his left hand held a bottle of lemonade.

He slowly approached, raising the camera so that the lens caught what was on top of it, or rather, who. Y/N and Chris were still fast asleep, both covered by the fluffy white blanket.

The girl was lying on the left side, that is, closer to Nick. Her head was lying on Chris's right arm, using it as her personal pillow, while the boy's left arm was around her shoulders covered by one of his t-shirts.

The only visible parts of the couple were their heads - which were practically on top of each other - and Chris's bare shoulders and arms that were slightly shivering from the Texas cold. Unfortunately, the room's heater didn't seem to be able to combat the coldness completely.

Nick couldn't see, but he was sure their legs were tangled under the blanket. He joked that when they slept together, they seemed to melt into each other with how close they were.

As the oldest triplet got closer to the bed, the camera was able to capture the small snores that came out of Chris's half-open mouth and the soft sighs that escaped Y/N's nose, both sounding like a lullaby to each other.

Nick pressed his lips into a thin line, trying to contain his laughter as he anticipated the couple's reaction. He loved playing pranks on them both, especially when they were sleeping.

"Chris, do you want a sip? Y/N?" Nick's voice sounded low behind the camera as the lens captured him, raising his left arm, the bottle entering the frame, bringing it closer to the couple's faces.

Chris, being a light sleeper, woke up seconds after. He lifted his head slightly as he tightened his arms around Y/N, pulling her closer - if that was even possible.

That movement woke up Y/N, or almost. The girl opened her eyes slightly, keeping them in a thin line, exhaling through her nose before closing them again, seeming not to register Nick in front of her.

"Hmm?" The questioning sound escaped Chris's throat. He turned his head from side to side slowly, trying to understand what was happening, his messy hair falling into his eyes.

"Do you want a sip? I think Y/N must be thirsty, too." Nick continued, his cheeks turning red from the effort he was doing while trying not to laugh.

"What, Nick?" Chris's voice sounded for the first time, the hoarseness making his words almost intelligible. The sound made Y/N open her eyes again, this time a little wider.

She lifted her hands, which were previously under the blanket, and brought them to Chris' ones in front of her body, intertwining them, shivering at the contact of her hot skin with her boyfriend's cold one. A sound of discomfort left her lips as she finally noticed Nick in front of her, holding what looked like a bottle. She quickly closed her eyes again, feeling too tired for whatever that was that Nick wanted.

"It's lemonade. Do you guys want a sip or not?" Nick prevailed, moving the bottle closer to their faces.

"If you drop that on me... I'll kill you." This time, it was Y/N's voice that sounded, equally hoarse and tired from the previous day's filming with Sam and Colby. She only opened one eye this time, looking at Nick but not really being able to focus on him, her vision blurred by sleep.

"It's lemonade." The standing boy spoke again, letting out a low, almost imperceptible laugh. He knew he would get yelled at when the couple actually woke up.

"Are you fucking stupid?" Chris responded, stretching for a few seconds without letting go of Y/N's hand, pulling her closer against his bare chest and burying his head in the crook of his girl's neck, exhaling the natural scent of her skin.

"Go away, Nick." Y/N spoke again, finally closing her eyes completely with the comfort of her boyfriend's body heat against her own, a happy sigh scaping her mouth.

They both fell asleep again within seconds, as if nothing had happened.

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Extra - comments:

"the way they sleep so close together, being all cuddly and everything 🥺"

"Chris and Y/N are such couple goals"

"I've never seen a cozier bed in my life 😫"

"dear Santa Claus ✏️📄"

"I want a boyfriend who cuddle me while we sleep like I'm going to run away at any minute 😭"

"Nick is a real pest LMAO"

"Nick holding himself back from laughing behind the camera 😭"

"Chris and Y/N's sleepy voice 😔"

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My asks are always open. Feel free to send requests or anything at all!! 🩷💋

[sp3llboundgirl]

After dealing with a psychopath for 3 years, I can deal with a much dumber sociopath for sure

[aenramsden]

The following is not my idea; it was the original brainchild of a friend of mine named Omicron, with help from various others including EarthScorpion, TenfoldShields, @havocfett and ShintheNinja:

So, you know what I want to do one day? Run (or play in) a D&D campaign in which the Big Bad Super Dragon that is fuckoff ancient and unfathomably powerful and whose actions have shaped history and bent the course of nations and had repercussions on the whole culture and society in the region where it's set; the Bonus Special Boss for some endgame optional quest after you defeat the direct BBEG and win the campaign...

... is a white dragon.

To explain this for people not deep into 5e monster lore; D&D dragons are sapient beings, and known for their instincts and tendencies, and whenever you meet an big evil dragon that's really old it's usually this ancient creature of terrible intellect Smaug-ing it up all over the place.

Except white dragons are fucking stupid. Like, they're still capable of speech and thought! They're just… feral, hungry morons. And you almost never see them portrayed as ancient wyrms for that reason; they lack majesty. Critical Role did it, yes, but even then, Vorugal is explicitly the most bestial member of the Chroma Conclave, and the others are the more intelligent planners and long-term threats. An ancient white as a nation-defining endboss, though; not a thug for a smarter master but as the strongest and biggest threat around is just not the sort of thing you tend to see.

Adventurers: "Oh wise Therunax the Munificent, gold dragon of Law and Good, what can you tell us adventurers of the evil dragons which rule this land?" Therunax the Munificent, 500-year old Gold Dragon: "Good adventurers, know this: this land is torn apart by the evil of Tiamat's spawn. The eastern marches are the dwelling of Furinar the Plague-Bringer, black dragoness whose hoard is a thousand sicknesses contained in the body of her tributes. The southern volcanic mountains are the roosting of Angrar the Wrathful, the fiery red dragon, who brings magmatic fury on all who do not worship him. And the northern peaks are home to Face-Biter Mike, the oldest and most powerful of all, of whom I dread to speak." Adventurers: "F-Face-Biter Mike???" Therunax: "Oh yes, verily indeed; two thousand years has Mike lived, and his eyes have seen the rise and fall of five empires, and a hundred and score champions have sought to slay him; and each and every one he bit their fucking face off."

Like... I want to see a campaign where Face-Biter Mike is genuinely the most powerful dragon in the region, if not the entire world. Where sometimes he descends on a city to grab himself some meatsicles and causes a localised ice age by the beat of his vast wings and the frigid wastes of his mighty breath and by the chill his mere presence brings to everything for miles around him, and everyone just has to deal with that for the next decade. An entire era of civilization comes to an end, an empire falls, tens of thousands starve in the winter, all because Mike wanted a snack. Where his hoard is an unfathomably vast mass of jewels and artefacts and precious stones frozen in an unmelting glacier, except he is a nouveau riche idiot with fuckall appraising skill, so half of his hoard is coloured glass or worthless knicknacks, and he doesn't give a shit.

"Your Draconic Majesty, this crown is… It's pyrite." "Yeah, well, it's brighter than this dusty old thing made out of real gold, it's my new best treasure. Throw the other one away." "…throw the Burnished Tiara of Bahamut, forged in the First Age of Man, your majesty???" "See? I can't even remember its fucking name." "But my lord-" "DO YOU WANT TO BE A MEATSICLE" "…I will fetch a trash bag, your majesty."

But at the same time, he's not stupid, he's just simple, and in some ways that makes him more dangerous than the usual kinds of scheming Big Bad you see in these things, while simultaneously justifying why Orcus remains on his throne (because he's lazy). Face-Biter Mike doesn't make convoluted plans or run labyrinthine schemes; he just has a talent for violence and a pragmatic, straightforward approach to turning any kind of problem he struggles with into a problem that can be resolved with violence. Face-Biter Mike has one talent and it's horrifying physical power, so his approach to any complicated problem is "how do I turn this into a situation where I can fly down and bite this dude's face off?" with absolutely no regard for the collateral damage or consequences of doing so, because those are also things he can turn into face-bitable problems.

"My lord, the dread necromancer Nikodemion is using his undead dragons to attempt a conquest of the eastern kingdom; his agents are everywhere, his plans are centuries in the making, what can we do against such a mastermind?" "I'm gonna fly over the capital and eat the eastern king." "M-my lord???" "The kingdom will collapse without leadership, Nikodemion will win his war, he'll take the capital and crown himself king." "And that helps us… how?" "Once he does I'll fly over to the capital and eat him." "…" "This is why you advisors all suck. You're all about convoluted plans when the only thing I need to win is know where my enemy is so I can fly down there and eat him. Stop overthinking things."

And, like, yeah, it's a simplistic plan, but when you're several hundred tons of nigh invincible magical death, you don't need brilliant strategy; the smartest way to win a war is, in this case, the simplest. He's not even all that clever at figuring out the consequences of face-biting, he's just memorised the common consequences of doing so.

(If you want to go all in on Mike being the major mover and shaker in the region; Nikodemion only even has a pet zombie dragon because Mike killed the last dragon to show up and contest his turf but wasn't going to eat a whole dragon by himself. Nikodemion got to stick around and amass that much power because Mike ate the Hero of the Realm while he was adventuring because he figured the Hero would come and try to slay him at some point. Nikodemion got started because Mike ate half the leadership of the Academy of High Magic who typically keep evil wizards and necromancers in check. And then eventually this product of Mike's casual, careless actions becomes a big enough problem to bother Mike personally, at which point Mike eats him too.)

He doesn't even really fail upwards, either! He is regularly reduced to nothing but the glacier he stores his hoard in, but he's Face-Biter Mike so nobody wants to commit to actually ending him forever lest they get their faces bitten the fuck off. And his hoard's in a huge-ass magical glacier so nobody can get to it without running into the Invading Russia problem; it's hard to wage war when everything is frozen over and you're both starving and freezing to death. Once he's been beaten back to his central lair and has lost all his holdings… I mean, he's still a problem, but he's a far away problem. So he loses his assets and spends a decade in a cave brooding it up while no one dares risk trying to actually kill him, and then a generation or two later he flies down to a kobold colony and gets himself some minions, or a dragon-worshipping mage comes to offer his service against a pittance from his hoard, or a particularly stupid cult starts thinking they can get in good with him and leech off his power, and then he's (hah) snowballing again.

He's also got a very… well, the kind of weird Charisma that Grineer bosses do. Like Sargas Ruk, who's a malformed idiot, but oddly charismatic. As he's a dragon, that makes him a natural sorcerer and thus Charisma is all he needs. He's pretty relaxed when he isn't in a face-biting mood, and he's kind of infectiously optimistic, because his life has taught him that he will succeed as long as he perseveres. So he just believes it.

And sometimes that's really refreshing to work for, as an evil minion of darkness! It's like, you're coming to your Evil Dragon Lord with terrible news; you've worked for evil overlords before, you know how it goes. You fall to your knees weeping and tell him that you've failed to seize the incredibly powerful magical artifact, you think your life is forfeit. And he's just like "Eh, it's okay, these things are all over the place. Better luck next time. You remember the guy who took it, right?" and you go "Y-yes, oh great lord!" and he's like "Sweet tell me his name later and I'll grab it" and then eats a frozen adventurer he kept around as a snack.

His followers tend to quickly realise that if they fail him, bringing some temple's silver or a sack of brightly coloured beads or a couple of dead cows means he's super forgiving because at least he's got something out of the day. "Oh boy, cows? It's been forever since I had those, ever since the Orc Steppe Nomads took over it's all about goats and onions. Today is a good day." He's a master of delegation by dragon standards, in that he just tells you "Just go get it done, I don't care how" rather than micromanaging you and constantly appearing as an image in smoke or taking over your campfire.

The key part of Face-Biter Mike as a threat to players (because he exists in the context of a D&D campaign) works well in that you can rely on several known quantities:

He will not pull sneaky shit that you don't see coming

He will not make convoluted plans that you must work to unravel

He will consistently attempt to come down and wreck you personally if he finds the opportunity and you are a threat to him

You cannot fight him head-on (at least not until the last leg of the campaign, and ideally as an optional boss rather than mandatory)

So as long as you are good at staying under the radar, thwarting his minions (whom he gives broad orders to with almost zero oversight) and not putting yourself in face-biting range, you can deal with him. If you succeed, it won't be the first time Mike has lost his assets and had to go brood in his glacier for a decade or two before rebuilding. It happens; he can deal with it. And that's a win for you within the context of a single campaign, so take the win.

And if you're not going to use him as an enemy, he works pretty well as a quest-giver, too! The costs for failure are obvious and straightforward, and "do whatever, just get me mine" means that players have a lot of freedom in accomplishing their goals. As far as evil overlords go he is actually one of the least dangerous to work for; his pride is relatively subdued by draconic standards, his goals are simple and typically achievable, and he is easily pleased.

(There's also a good chance he is the forefather of any draconic sorcerer in your party, because Face Biter Mike is a deadbeat dad.)

[mechawolfie]

see theres a possibility ill be able to go on t sometime in the near future & im uhhhh kind of freaking out about it a bit. but only alittle

[marcsburnerphone]

And they were roomates

(Captain John price x F!reader)

Summary: the captain wants somewhere more homely to settle down and when an offer like yours comes alight on Zillow he must take up on it.

Warnings: angsty (very minimal), mentions of readers past relationship, some bond building, smoking, some tense moments

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4!! - part 5

————-

“Captain?” Soap yells from afar to get what seems to be prices attention. When he realizes that is indeed his captain he jogs to where John stands.

“What’re ye doin’ back?” Soap question a little confused, after their last two month mission John was granted leave for three months to recoup and rest. 

“Just came to turn in these files.” He says waving the Manila folders in his hands.

“You could’ve just done that online, you know.” And yes John does know and by the look he gives Johnny he also knows.

“What, trouble in paradise?” Johnny smiles widely at the guilty look on his captain's face.

“Something like that.” John replies clearly a little tense.

“Well, tell me about it.” He says waiting expectantly.

“Over some drinks Sergeant.” Price replies before making his way into the building and soap returning to the trainees.

————-

“Oh that’s fucked mate.” Ghost says.

“Captain no offense you’re a very intelligent and capable man but that is so fucking stupid.” Gaz states before taking a drink of his beer. 

“You thought oh I’m catching some feelings for her, let's just ignore her.” Soap says in a mimicking voice.

“No, it's not only that, I don’t have time to entertain dense feelings and she likely doesn’t share those same feelings.” His gruff voice replies as he takes a puff of his cigar and blows the smoke out into the pub they sit in.

“Did you ask her?” Gaz asks, already knowing the answer.

“Am I twelve? What grown man asks a woman if they have feelings for them usually there’s hints and clues you can pick up on.” Ghost grumbles in agreement from price earning a slap on the arm from soap.

“And she’s done nothing that may even give you an inkling that she’s into you mate?” Gaz quips in.

“Like “oh hey captain can you help me open this jar?” Or “price can you please help me fix this?” Johnny tries his best at a womanly voice. 

“First of all she doesn’t call me captain or price and second of all, yes she does that but it’s only because she needs the help.” They all look at him with blank stares.

“I bet you wish she’d call you captain.” Soap whispers but before John can reply Gaz starts.

“Captain, does she ever stutter when you talk to her?” Gaz asks, raising an eyebrow at him.

“sometimes.” He excuses that as human behavior. 

“When she noticed your avoidance, did she get upset?” I mean you got a little mad at him that once but that was cause he was overstepping. 

“A little.” He replies not really seeing where it’s going until oh.

“Yeah cap, you're being naive.” 

“You should go back there, be kinder and less weird. She probably thinks you don’t like her and if that lasts too long she’ll start to actually not like you.” Well he obviously can’t have that.

“We need a mum anyways.” Gaz says under his breath and soap agrees. 

“What?” 

———————

“Hey you’re back.” You can’t resist the small smile that makes its way onto your face as John walks into the kitchen.

“Told you I’d only be a day or two.” He repeats his words from a couple days ago, hands awkwardly in his pockets. 

He notices there’s something different in your energy that he picks up on or maybe it’s his energy that has changed.

“Yeah but last time you said a month and we’re gone two.” He remembers that and sees your point then he thinks about the fact that you remember that. 

“Well last time I really didn’t think I’d be gone that long but you know.” He says not going into detail and just waving it off.

“Well I have a job to get too.” You say closing the package of blueberries you’d been eating out of then place them back in the fridge.

“On a Saturday?” He questions the unusuality of it.

“Yeah I had a woman call me this morning, said her wedding was next week and she really wanted me to be the one to give her her dream hair so I agreed.” 

“Okay then, I’ll see you later, doll.” He says as you grab your keys and purse getting ready to leave.

“Bye John.” You smile softly looking anywhere but him cause if you did the smile that lays on your face at the newfound nickname would be too evident. 

————-

“Hey so we’re just doing some highlights and a cut right.” You ask the woman in your chair as you drape the cape over her paying mind to her swollen belly and button it in the back.

“Yeah I actually have some pictures if that’s okay.” She says pulling out her phone to show you.

“Great, I’d love to see them.” You say getting your equipment ready.

She shows you and by the already light tone of her hair this will be easy work. You get everything settled and ready, mixing the bleach and color and sorting through the pieces you’ll paint.

“So what made you ask me to do your hair?” This is a question you always love to ask your clients. Was it social media or a referral or maybe something else.

“My finance actually recommended you.” Her fiance.

“Oh I don’t actually do men’s hair, who’s your fiance?” You question a little confused but clearly he might’ve just seen you on instagram or had a friend who’s been with you.

“Brian, he said he used to know you and heard you did really good hair.” No fucking way.

“Oh yeah I know Brian old friends.” You smile through the tears that threaten to escape your eyes. 

How could he? How could he give this woman everything you’ve ever wanted then send her to you to show off that goddamn-

“He says to tell you hi.” She smiles looking back at you not having a clue of who you really are. 

“Oh tell him I said hello.” You reply shortly.

“How’d you two meet?” You ask curiously.

“We actually worked together and when we first started talking he was actually in a relationship but nothing serious and the more we spent time together it just became clear we were meant to be together.” Her.

“So he cheated on his ex partner?” You say in a polite tone, one a girlfriend would use.

“Well I guess you could say that but according to him their relationship was over before it was over.” You smile at her nodding in understanding. 

Scream, you wanted to scream your fucking head off the rest of the appointment. But no you stood there politely and gave this woman the most beautiful hair you could’ve imagined you even took fucking pictures for her to send to you’re cheating ex.

—————

On the way home you cried out of anger not even out of jealousy, or sadness just anger at the audacity that man had and the years you wasted with such a fucking loser.

When you pulled into the driveway you turned the car off and just sat there. You sat there and pondered on everything. You’d always asked him for a baby and he’d said he would never be a father. You always wanted to get married and he would say “marriage isn’t my thing.” And yet he’ll do it all for another woman. A woman he really loves. 

But in the end you're glad it’s not you. It isn’t you that has to deal with that man child, it won’t be you who’s stuck with someone who isn’t faithful. In the end you’re the lucky one and finally you feel like you can let it go. 

So you dry your eyes and head inside, kicking off your shoes by the door and paying notice to John that’s currently in the living room. You walk over to the couch and sit a comfortable amount of space away from him simply testing the waters and watch the football game he has on.

“How was your appointment?” He says suddenly taking in notice of your puffy eyes.

“Good.” You reply in a whisper with a half smile.

“You’re lying.” He assumed maybe just an asshole client or the outcome wasn’t good.

“It was my ex boyfriend's new pregnant fiancé, who also happens to be the woman he cheated on me with.” You admit with a small laugh at the end with how ridiculous that sounds.

“You got cheated on?” He asks, thoroughly shocked not paying mind to the other details.

“And she’s hot.” You reply looking him in the eye. All he’s thinking is hotter than you?

“Did she know who you were?” This has to be the most mind fucking thing he’s ever heard.

“Not a clue and what's funnier is he recommended me to her.” You laugh again and it’s slightly scary how calm you seem.

“You’re not upset?”

“John I was over that man the minute he cheated on me. I’m only upset over all the time I lost wanting things he said he never wanted but what he meant was he never wanted that with me.” You say quietly between the two of you like it’s a secret. 

“His loss.” he says, offering you a small smile.

“I guess.” 

“No doll I know.” You don’t know what to make of that comment and just smile back at him. 

————-

Later that night after a long shower you step onto the outside patio for some fresh air not noticing John smoking a cigar beside you. 

“Jesus!” You jump slightly at the sight of his looming shadow.

“At this point just expect me to be everywhere.” He laughs as he exhales the puff of smoke. 

“I didn’t know you smoked.” You reply before taking in the sight before you. John in Levi’s, a thermal and brown leather jacket, thick fingers holding a cigar between them lightly tapping it to drop the excess ash.

“I’m sorry, does it bother you?” He asks suddenly, concerned about whether that was in the policy or something. 

“No, not at all.” You smile shivering at the breeze that blows through the air.

He offers the cigar between his fingers by gesturing it towards you, you’ve smoked cigarettes but this thing looked like a cigarette on steroids. Nonetheless you didn’t decline the offer and hesitantly wrapped your lips around it giving it a small puff letting the earthy flavor consume your taste buds as you exhale. 

John watches you with longing eyes. Truthfully he expected you to grab it from him but instead you toked it straight from his fingers and shit it was hot. The way your lips wrapped around the very end had him running hot suddenly. The layers he wore were becoming overbearingly warm. 

“Do you ever wish you chose a normal career?” The question left your lips before you could think about why you were asking it and he clears his dirty mind before answering. 

“Not really, my job makes me feel like I have purpose and although my hands get dirty it’s for a good cause.” You nod as you look up into the blue sky that’s slowly becoming darker. 

“You do have purpose outside your job though you know that right?” You look him in the eye for a mere second then back up. 

He’s taken aback slightly by your statement and stays silent. He lets it settle in his thoughts and feelings. Wondering what prompted you to say it in the first place.

“Thankyou.” He replies shortly after. 

“You're welcome.” You reply gently.

“I’m going to head inside, don’t be out here too long you’ll get sick.” You say sliding the door open and he laughs in return. If you even had the slightest idea of the weather he’s lived in. 

———

You woke up the next morning bright and early, currently stood in the kitchen brewing hot water for tea and setting the coffee machine on. One for you, one for John. He was surprisingly still asleep although it also is still very early. He never sleeps past 7.

As you turn the heat off the stove, knocking sounds at the front door. Maybe a package you assumed as you made your way down the hall peeking through the small hole to see who’s out there and to your surprise it was a woman. 

“Hi, how can I help you?” She looks at you a bit taken aback.

“Does John Price live here?” She asks as her blonde hair blows in the cold breeze. 

“Yeah?” 

“I need to speak to him.”

“Okay I’ll be right back.” Was this a lover of John’s, maybe an ex wife or something. You knock softly at his door and nothing so you knock a little louder. Before you hear a grunt and the squeak of the hardwood floors.

“Morning, y’alright?” He asks with a deep sleepy voice. 

You take notice of His messy hair and pajama bottoms hanging low on his hips so you practically beg and will yourself to not look at his body. 

“Yeah sorry there’s a woman at the door for you.” You reply smiling when you notice the sleep marks on the side of his face. 

“Oh okay let me just put a shirt on, tell her I’ll be right out.” He can already guess who it is and quietly curses to himself. No peace of his ever lasted long.

You relay the message to her and offer her to come inside which she politely accepts but goes no further than the entrance. 

“I’m Kate by the way.” She offers her hand to you. 

“Oh nice to meet you Kate, are you a friend of John’s?” You pry.

“Oh yeah, a longtime one.” You should’ve known.

“We’ve been working together since he was a lieutenant and that was ages ago.” She laughs and you feel light with relief for whatever reason.

“Laswell.” A deep voice sighs out from behind her.

“Well don’t be too excited to see me.” She says to him.

You get the message to exit the room and do so. He walks with her to the kitchen, offers her a drink then they both go to his office and from the sound of it have a pretty heated conversation. Not that you were eavesdropping or anything.

———-

It was hours before she left and when she did John didn’t seem too happy. You walk to the door a bit after you hear it shut. John stands there running a hand through his hair.

“You okay?” You stupidly ask as he rubs his forehead still standing in front of the door although she left 10 minutes ago.

“Yeah doll I’m alright.” He sounds tired and bothered. 

“Okay.” You begin to turn around getting the feeling he doesn’t want you there. 

“Wait, actually I have to leave tomorrow for a while..” He replies quickly. 

“Oh.” You try not to sound too disappointed.

“I’ll leave you a check for six months, if I’m gone longer my checkbook is in the bedside drawer. If you need assistance with anything I have a friend you can call please don’t do it yourself or have someone else do it.” He says as you stand there not getting past the eight month part.

“Six months or longer?” He meets your eyes seeing a hint of sadness.

“Yeah that’s what I can expect.” You suck your bottom lip between your teeth for a second not really knowing how to reply. 

“Are you hungry?” 

“What?” He replies at the random change in topic.

“Would you like to order too much food and watch a movie?” You ask again.

“Sure?” 

“I mean if you’re leaving for months and you seem upset about it then it’s serious and when’s the next time you’ll eat good food, you know?” You explain.

“Italian?” 

“Italian.” 

——————-

You both sit on the living room couch in the dim ambient light while “How to lose a guy in 10 days” plays on the TV, your choice. Empty boxes once filled with pasta and bread now are mostly empty. You tell John every time one of your favorite parts is coming on but not like you even needed to. He can tell by the anxious shake of your foot and slightly raised eyebrow.

“So does he ever find out that it’s for the em magazine and does she find out it’s for a bet?” He asks midway through the movie.

“You’ll have to watch it.” You whisper.

He laughs and for a moment in time he feels content, at ease for once. He feels like this is the moment he’ll recall in the next eight months when nights are cold and he’s spent. 

Your eyes are drifting closed before the movie is over and he watches you find sleep then returns his attention to the tv determined to finish the movie. Once all is done he picks the containers up off the floor quietly and turns the tv off kneeling to the floor to wake you.

“Doll let’s get you to bed.” He whispers in the dark. You're slightly disappointed you fell asleep but your drowsy mind doesn’t let you think too deeply as you bid him a goodnight and head to bed.

————-

The next morning he was ready to leave at 4AM. Big duffel bag in hand and a backpack. He thinks of waking you to say goodbye and even walks to your door. But he doesn’t not because he doesn’t want to but because he won’t want to leave if he does. Internally he curses himself for wasting so much time avoiding you the previous weeks. 

So he writes a quick note and of course the promised check and heads on his way.

—————-

Next chapter is already written and I’m so excited at the build up!!

Comments and reposts are always appreciated<3

@beebeechaos @ttsbaby01 @arminarlertssword @quakeroaksguy @rafaelacallinybbay @bumblebeesfromvenus @glitterypirateduck @midnights-song @lovelythingsinternal @fruitymoonbeams-blog @kkaaaagt @kit-williams @enfppixie @kythefangirl25 @eviltheleon @here4thespice @dclore22 @raethethey @waves-against-a-cliff @novausstuff @darling006 @vampirekilmerfic

[yawnderu]

honestly i would die for bimbo!reader to have some sort of Legally Blonde level of intelligence but for the stupidest, most useless shit. no, she can't remember which knob turns on which burner for the stove, but she can tell you the effects of different chemical compounds found in all her favorite skincare products and now they react to an individuals derma-layer. simon once caught her watching a screensaver on TV for 30 min because she thought it was "a reeeeally slow nature documentary /:", but she's fluent in Korean because she got super into Korean make up brands from her favorite influencers and wanted to be able to read the product ingredients/reviews/tutorials, it just never gets brought up otherwise and when someone asks in disbelief she's all "what, like it's hard?"

and simon is just sooooo so so proud of his smart pretty girl. who cares that she thought soap's parents legally named him after a dishwashing product. can mactavish tell him how to tell dupes from authentic handbags based on the inner stitching that can only be done on machines specially made by Italian companies? no? then shut the fuck up. tell us more about glitter lipgloss, beautiful.

Absolutely!! She may be dim-witted when it comes to certain things, but she's not exactly dumb at all. This girl could recite the laws of astrophysics and solve complex mathematical problems while being piss drunk.

Simon is still amazed by how complex his sweet girl is— he knows she isn't stupid, yet it never fails to surprise him how you start speaking to MacTavish in fluent Scottish Gaelic, only offering the explanation that you learnt it because a character on your favorite movie spoke it once, looking at him like he grew a second head when he sheepishly told you most scottish people don't speak Gaelic anymore.

Sure, you may have thought movies were real and used to avoid watching them because you thought the actors were actually getting killed and you didn't want to support that, yet a window of your house is full of math equations that gave him a headache just by looking at them.

I'd say Simon sees bimbo!reader as a box full of surprises, telling him about something new every single time you have a conversation. How did you get into studying astrophysics? You got the highest score in the university admission exam and saw a poster that was shiny and had cute stars and a pretty nebula!! How could you resist when everything about it called for you?

Mhm, the smell of gunpowder and blood that sticks to him no matter what is such an odd perfume, yet it surely has an interesting molecular makeup! Of course it does, pretty girl.

They complement each other so well because Simon has the street smarts she's lacking, and she has the book smarts Simon doesn't. She can be extremely ditzy, but who cares when she can tell him exactly which inks are recommended for his skin and which chemicals can rough up his face? He had to buy a brand-new eye black stick simply because you could tell the materials used on it by applying it on your hand with a frown.

I'd like to imagine her as someone with lots of odd interests, knowledge and hyperfixations in the dumbest things besides the universe. He has to keep up with you buying materials for making bracelets and keeping a room full of dinosaur plushies.

Bimbo!Reader Masterlist

[simonrillleyyysss]

simon with an s/o who is super duper smart!! like she studied astrophysics or SUMN and she’s like a researcher and she reads classic philosophy and is subscribed to a bunch of newsletters for different topics and she’s just,, so smart!! but not like street smart. she’s a clutz and she’s clueless and a bit dumb when it comes to the the day to day stuff and it’s so silly cause like. how. r u in such a prestigious field and you speak so eloquently yet also so silly stupid dumb?? it’s so cute

and his favourite thing is getting his smartypants nerdy little girlfriend into a babbling gushing mess under him, barely able to form coherent sentences as he bullies her soaked cunny :(( miss big shot researcher all fucked out and giggling, drooling and brainless AGHHRRN the brainrot is real

i love this!! socially unaware reader who’s a genius?? yes!!!

Simon knows you’re intelligent, everyone does! You’re always spewing facts to him throughout the day, and he thrives for it! A new update about some snazzy topic, which he, does not entirely understand? Hell yeah! You’re happy and content, walking down the street with your hands linked, freehand scrolling through your phone.

“Oh!”

“Hm?”

“There’s a new—“

He’s so happy that you’re happy, doesn’t care if anyone else thinks you’re a snob, you’re not. You’re his smart cookie. His soft, silly smart cookie. He adores flexing it, too!

Sat on the sofa on a rainy day? He isn’t surprised when you’re nose is stuck in some big book about philosophical ideals and whatnot, peeks over your shoulder as his fingers tangle through your hair, kissing the back of your head.

“Seems snazzy.”

He mumbled lowly, hands squishing your cheeks from behind, watching you purse ur lips out.

“It is! It’s really interesting, would you like to read it after?”

“..I’ll pass, y’ can tell me about it, though. That’s better, innit?”

Watches you work from home, constantly. Finds it so interesting when you sit at your laptop, tapping at the keys so quickly while looking down at your big book of new information , all of which you’d written down recently, just sits at the corner of the bed and stares at you in awe.

Never trusts you to go out by yourself, always has you message him every once in a while when you’re out with your friends at dinner or anything—He’s not controlling, you can go out; but he just knows you’re not high in the social field of things, monkey say monkey do!

Smart? Yes, streetsmart? No.

So when you and him had went out shopping together, and some guy tried to hit on blissfully, happily unaware you? He was enraged, he knows you didn’t do anything, he knows it was all him, but he can’t help how angry it makes him.

Can’t help how he holds you down on the bed by your hips, thrusting his thick cock into your tight cunt, sniffling and whining in soft confusion, you didn’t do anything! So why was he ramming into your sensitive little pussy? Why was he abusing you softly and kissing your breasts if you didn’t do anything wrong?

“So-Mgmmng..Si—m’sorry!”

“Shhhh, Yr’ fine, sugar…I know y’didnt, jus’ stay quiet f’me, yeah?”

“A-mngh..Ohh, gosh! Are you mad at me?”

You gasped out, looking up at the blonde-haired man, who was softly peppering pecks along your perky nipples, cock slamming into you repeatedly, watching your eyes roll back and lips part.

“Course not, mad at him—Yeah? Thinkin’ he has a chance with my girl.. Thinkin’ he can fuck your pretty lil’ pussy as well as I do.”

“Mmnngghh.Can’t..NoooooOOT him!-“

He chuckled, jutting his cock further in you a few times to emphasise his point, watching you squeal in pleasure, back arching; His thumb coming to brush right circles against your aching clit, feeling you tighten and spasm around him as your orgasm washed over you!

Or,

When you’re sitting atop his lap, riding him lazily as he reads your latest draft, brows furrowed as his arm slung around your hip protectively, listening to your little moans and u intelligible babbles, slouching over slightly—feeling his hand squish your hip and seeing you instantly readjust your frame, practically drooling down your chin.

Smart literally, Dumb socially.

[mistninja]

Was it tho

[reidmotif]

Coffee and Consequences

Summary: Reader joins the BAU, and Spencer seems insistent on being a problem for her.

Request: pls i am such a sucker for angst/smut, can you do one where spencer is closed off and cold to a new recruit, and it upsets her, so she tries to get him to like her, which leads to an argument and confession, with soft smut?

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Smut/Light Angst (Happy Ending)

Content Warning: Reader POV, little shit Spencer, oral sex (f recieveing), gunshot wound/typical canon violence, unprotected sex

Word Count: 6.1k

Upon starting at the BAU, I believed there was no question about me, especially when it came to my skills and ability to perform my job. From stellar recommendations from my superiors at the Academy, to general demeanor and tact, there was no question about whether or not my success was imminent. Most of the team were more than elated to welcome me to the small family they’d built over the years, despite my younger age than most of them, which I was eternally grateful for. 

Most, being the keyword in that sentence. Since I’d begun, there’d been one thorn in my roses, the bane of my existence, you might say. Spencer fucking Reid. I’m aware of the fact that not everyone could like me, that was a given. I'm an FBI agent, for god’s sake. To expect warmth and friendship from everyone would be naive and lead to disappointment in any given scenario. 

But Jesus Christ, this was getting absolutely ridiculous. 

I consistently replayed the events of our first meeting. In an attempt to make a good first impression, (which seems stupid, in hindsight) I brought coffee to each of my new co-workers, hoping to establish myself as a friendly, non-threatening presence in their lives. I’d covertly asked Emily for help, as within the interviews and background checks required to even be considered for a position in the BAU, there was a certain camaraderie and friendship forged through the continued exposure to each other. 

Emily advised me carefully, understanding the intentions behind the act, and being more than happy to help.  “JJ likes vanilla lattes, nothing too fancy. Rossi is a little simpler, a Caffe Americano.” I spoke, and continued to go through my team’s regular orders, until there was hesitation on a somewhat infamous name, one that I myself was already intrigued by. “Spencer’s an easy order to remember, but you have to make sure you get it right.” 

I found myself nodding, the seriousness of Emily’s words striking me- momentarily finding myself forgetting that they were speaking about something as mundane as coffee. "Emily spoke slowly, as if I was advising a child. 'Reid likes black coffee, but you have to make sure to add extra sugar.'" I nodded quickly, "Alright, black coffee with extra sugar, got it-" Emily interrupted me abruptly. "No, no. You're not hearing me, extra sugar. I mean a lot, okay? Otherwise, he quite literally won't drink it."

I found myself chuckling a little bit, thinking about the image of Spencer Reid I’d built up in my head before I’d even met him. I knew he had been framed and had endured a considerable time in prison. I was also aware of his intelligence, a natural by-product of all the papers he’d written, and how many of his own techniques in geographic profiling were referenced during my time in the Academy. Working with him seemed like a dream come true. The idea of a grown man needing as much sugar in his coffee as Emily made it seem added just a bit of charm to the already positive perception I’d had of him. 

In the coffee shop, I carefully recited the orders of my new teammates, taking extra caution in advising the barista that the black coffee needed extra sugar. I could tell the patrons behind me were definitely annoyed, but it didn’t matter. First impressions matter more. Even after my incessant requests about sugar, I took the time to open the lid of the steaming black coffee to add in 3 extra packets of brown sugar provided at the customization station in the back of the coffee shop. I could tell the barista was boring holes into the back of my head, and I honestly wasn’t surprised or could blame her. At this point, the sugar had to be more than the coffee itself. I gave a satisfied grin to myself, knowing I’d followed Emily’s directions and the possibility of friendship with someone I’d already come to admire wasn’t something far-off to wish for. 

God, was I wrong. 

I approached the bullpen cautiously, being greeted by an assortment of new faces. I quickly matched names to descriptors that had been given to me from Emily. I then noticed one face that hadn’t greeted me yet, sat alone in the back with his nose in a book. I couldn’t discern the title, which I quickly figured was due to the fact that the book appeared to be some European language I’d most likely never even heard of. The man had a mess of brown hair on his head, and even from across the room I could tell it was curling softly near the nape of his neck. He was handsome. More handsome than I had pegged him for. I knew almost immediately that this had to have been the infamous Spencer Reid, and I cautiously approached him, flashing a small smile. 

He heard me a mile away, looking up quickly and putting away his book. His eyes seemed to size me up, and he didn’t seem to return my smile. I knew better than to shake hands with him, being predisposed to his germaphobe nature and instead held out the coffee, almost as if it was a peace offering. 

“Hi, uh. I’m the new recruit, I believe Emily warned you all about me and I just wanted to introduce myself. (Y/N). That’s my name. It’s nice to meet you.” I said, a little dumbly, still holding the coffee out. I quickly realized I hadn’t explained the reasoning behind the coffee cup and quickly added, “Coffee. I asked Emily about how you liked it. And brought it. So, yeah.” I said. I was aware of how awkward this conversation was becoming, considering I was still holding out the cup, like an idiot, and he hadn’t said a word to me yet. He nodded, taking the coffee cup from me and placing it on his desk. “Dr Reid. Welcome.” His greeting was short, but I tried not to let it bother me. Perhaps he wasn’t as forthcoming to strangers, nevermind that. The coffee was enough. I smiled, again, hoping to make my intentions clear. “Nice to meet you, Dr Reid.” 

I turned back, feeling satisfied. I’d done what I’d come there to do. Except a sound from behind me alerted me that maybe I was a bit early to assume that, because when I’d turned around, an incredibly displeased Dr Reid was throwing away his coffee- the coffee I had brought! That I’d waited for in a morning rush for, that I’d taken the time to add even more sugar to- that coffee! In the trash! His eyes met mine as he dropped it into the trashcan near his desk, shuddering a bit as he did so. He didn’t even look apologetic. 

I approached him, a bit upset and sad, but there was caution in my tone, not wanting to offend him before he even had a chance to know me. “Dr Reid, I’m sorry was the coffee-” Dr Reid quickly interrupted me. “Did Emily not tell you my order?” He asked, a little bit of sharpness to his tone. 

Okay, so this guy took his coffee seriously. Emily was not kidding around. 

“Um, yes-” He interrupted again. “Yes? Are you sure?” He said, a bit of condescension in his tone. Okay, holy shit. All this over coffee? “Very sure.” I responded, confidently. “Black, with extra sugar- I even put extra at the counter.” I added this, trying to convey that while I was sorry it wasn’t to his liking, it’s not like I didn’t try. That had to count for something, right? 

Wrong. Spencer Reid did not seem like the type of man who cared about trying. He retorted with, “Well, it wasn’t enough.” And with that, he shuffled to the breakroom, seemingly to make his own coffee. 

It seemed like from there, things only got worse. In one of my first cases, I quickly made a quip about the statistics on suburban murders, hoping to add some valuable information to the conversation. I tried hard not to overpower anyone and stay in my lane as the resident newbie, but Spencer seemed to take personal offense to it, going out of his way to argue that it meant nothing. I fired back, hoping to affront my point but Reid quickly cut me off.

 “You’re new, alright? And young. It’s granted that you should be clueless when it comes to some of these things.” His words, although somewhat true, were accompanied by a harsh tone and a coldness in his voice. What could’ve been well-meaning advice from a senior agent on the team was clearly not that at all. All signs pointed to one thing: He absolutely hated me. 

For all I tried, it seemed like he only disliked me more. It wasn’t unnoticed by my teammates, how he’d dismiss me. I was aware of my newness, of my inexperience, how this team had had years to grow around each other before I was ever even considered for this position, but it seemed with the more time I spent at the BAU, Spencer’s disdain only increased. He seemed to go out of his way to not sit by me on the jet, or how he seemed absolutely uninterested in anything involving me. I understood that not everyone would like me, but a bit of respect would be nice. I didn’t need friendship, just his tolerance, and even that seemed out of reach for Dr Spencer Reid. 

Eventually, this led to the dynamic  we harbored now. A year into the BAU, and instead of a friendship, or even acquaintanceship, it was constant bickering. It’s not like I wanted to argue- he just made it impossible for me to find footing within the BAU. I obviously stood up for myself, but was met with resistance from the doctor, and so the cycle continued. 

Still, despite the obvious dislike Reid harbored for me, it wasn’t like that magically made him dumb, or any less attractive to me. His intelligence was as impressive as I’d expected it to be, if not even moreso. I watched in real-time as the cogs in his mind turned, his slender fingers finding a point on the side of his mouth to tap, before stopping and sharing what he’d just thought of. He was brilliant, and no one could take that away from him

 However, in this particular case we were currently dealing with, it seemed that brilliance simply didn’t matter, because how could someone like him be so absolutely stupid? 

The hostage situation we were dealing with was tricky, to say the least. Multiple civilians, and a trigger happy unsub. Any experienced agent would be at a loss when handling something like this, but Spencer seemed confident. He’d been pushing to storm the building, citing that more people would get hurt the longer they allowed the unsub to continue making demands. I found myself  wholeheartedly disagreeing, attempting to put my foot down and be heard. I found that perhaps, through negotiations, we could not only save the civilians, but walk away with zero people hurt. Naturally, this caused commotion between the senior agent and myself. 

“Reid, I’ve told you for the millionth time that this unsub can’t be approached like this!” I whisper-yelled, clearly fed up with Spencer by this point. He questioned every decision of mine, and it's gotten to me. 

“(Y/N), you’ve dealt with maybe 3 hostage situations in your life. This isn’t something for you to take point on. We have civilians in there, and it’s more important we save them.” He responded, in his own hiss. 

“You’re being ridiculous!” I retorted. 

“You’re naive!” He shot back. 

We’d clearly reached a head when it came to this. Spencer huffed, rolling his eyes. “I’m using my seniority here. We’re going to give the go-ahead to SWAT and make our way into the building.” 

I found myself returning the gesture. “Spencer- '' I began, only to be interrupted.

 “Dr Reid.” He corrected, venom in his voice. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I replied, furrowing my brows. 

“What?” He countered, seeming calm, but his eyes gave away simply how determined he was to win this. 

“This is a terrible idea.” I said, firmly. “Someone’s going to get hurt.” 

“Oh, and how do you know that?” Spencer quipped. “Is it your years of experience in the field? Or your time spent as an FBI agent?” He said, sarcastically. 

“I understand I don’t have as much experience as you, but-” I started, but I found myself cut off by him again. Bastard. He never let me finish my sentences. “Exactly.” He responded, calmly. “You don’t have as much experience. I know what I’m doing. Let’s go.” And with that, he walked, leaving me to simply follow. God, I fucking hated that guy. Forget the intelligence, none of that mattered when he was such a dick. 

As they entered the warehouse doors behind SWAT, I  knew that it was wrong. Something was off. We’d profiled this unsub as the dominant type, and an egotistical personality that wouldn’t allow for a partner. It was a part of the profile that they were sure of. It was part of the reason why Spencer was so confident of going in. 

Upon entering though, the SWAT team had a clear shot of the unsub, but in a split second, there were shots heard from an entirely different part of the warehouse. From the direction in which Spencer was directly in line of. 

It wasn’t like I thought about it, maybe if I had, I wouldn’t have done it. It was based on pure instinct. I found myself in front of Spencer Reid, the man who’d questioned my every decision since I’d begun my job, taking a bullet for him. Maybe he was right, maybe I was an idiot. 

I heard the gunshot first, then felt the cold floor pressing into my cheek where I’d been knocked down. Then a tight pressure in my arm. I finally looked down, seeing a bloom of red appear under my dress shirt where a bullet had struck, away from the vest I wore to prevent this sort of thing. I took in a sharp breath of air, eyes widening as my breathing began to quicken. I rolled onto my back, only to be met with Spencer’s concerned and frightened expression above me. I heard ins and outs of his speech into his receiver, as I faded in and out of consciousness. 

“Yes! We have an agent down. We need medic, now!” He yelled. I watched him in fascination, his face currently seeming to be the only thing I could focus on besides the overwhelming burning that I felt. I heard him speak to me, calmly. “Y/N? Stay with me, okay? You need to stay conscious. Okay?” He spoke to me calmly, but the waver in his voice was unmistakable. I found my eyelids growing heavier as I nodded. 

It wasn’t long until I came to, groggily opening my eyes to see Spencer’s concerned face looking back at me. I heard his voice, soft and distant. 

“(Y/N)..?” Spencer said, cautiously. 

“Dr Reid?” was my response. I was still a bit dizzy, and a bit confused about my whereabouts. 

“You were shot.” He replied, immediately. “In your arm.” He added, as if that wasn’t already obvious. 

I found myself chuckling, “Yeah, I can tell.” I said, my eyes meeting his. His expression was a bit unreadable, a mix between sternness and apprehension. I watched him, as his gaze shifted and he bit his lip. “You took it for me.” He said, suddenly. “The bullet, I mean.” He continued. “It would’ve hit me if you hadn’t gotten in the way.” 

“Gotten in the way?” I questioned, raising an eyebrow. 

“Gotten in the way.” He repeated back to me, his face hard. 

“Are you upset I took a bullet for you?” I said, furrowing my brows, my lips parting in shock. Was this guy serious? 

“Yes.” He said, his voice angry. “What were you thinking?” His voice wavered with anger and another emotion I couldn’t quite discern in that moment. 

“I wasn’t thinking, I just-” 

“Exactly.” He responded, harshly. “You weren’t thinking.” He said, his voice reaching a volume I’d never heard before, granted, it was still collected, but I’d never seen this side of him. 

I contemplated how to respond to this, actually not being able to believe that he could be mad at me for something like this. Yes, it was brash but- he didn’t get shot! Isn’t that a plus? His voice broke my thoughts, now a bit more shaky, softer. “Do you have any idea what that would mean? If you’d been hurt worse, what that would mean for me?” He said, looking right at my face, into my eyes with a blaze. “What you mean to me?” 

I found myself unable to respond, still not being able to grapple with what he was saying. What he was implying. “Sorry?” I asked, softly. 

“(Y/N)..” He said, softly. His own expression mirrored my confusion mixed with longing I’d never seen before on him. Especially when he looked at me. His hand brushed across my face, moving some hair that had drifted near my eye. I held my breath as he did so, watching as his tongue slipped out to wet his bottom lip, still watching intently. I felt my lips slightly part as he came closer, unsure what was going to happen in this moment, but regardless, my gaze was intently trained on his. 

In a split second though, the sounds of the rest of the BAU filtered into the hospital room. They jumped away from each other, Spencer now 4 feet away from me. Emily came up to my bedside, looking at the wound. 

The typical chastisement came, and the general choruses of appreciation that I was still alive. The diagnosis revealed that (Y/N) would be just fine, given I remembered to clean my wound liberally and change the bandages.

In about a week, I found myself discharged. I was given about 2 more weeks to rest at my apartment. I assumed the time would be enough to forget the strange moment I’d had in the hospital room. At some points, if I tried hard enough, I could convince myself it hadn’t happened at all. The tenderness in his eyes, the way his gaze drifted to my lips, so subtle it could’ve as easily been a figment of imagination. I shook my head, as if I could rid myself of all the feelings I’d harbored about that specific moment. I made my way to the kitchen, grabbing a fresh-set of bandages to apply on the recovering wound, wincing as I peeled away the layers of gauze to reveal the injury. As I began to apply the anti-septic, I began to wrap the gauze, until I heard a knock at my apartment door. 

I put down the gauze, looking through the peephole and being surprised to see the senior agent that had been haunting my thoughts for the past few weeks. I opened the door quickly, meeting his pensive gaze. 

“Can I come in?” He said, quickly, almost if he didn’t say the words fast enough, he’d bolt the other direction. I sensed the confusion about his own actions, and opened the door wider, allowing him to push past me into my apartment. He noticed the gauze, and the open wound, and raised an eyebrow. 

“I was changing the gauze, sorry.” I said, explaining the sight on my kitchen table. He immediately took a step towards the table, picking up the bandages. “Let me help.” He said, quietly, motioning for me to sit down. 

I found myself sitting, out of pure habit of obeying him, but still shook my head. 

 “Dr Reid, no, it’s fine.” He quickly shook his head, mirroring my previous actions,  already beginning to take my arm, his light touches on my bare skin shooting a shiver up my spine. This was noticeable to him, him immediately retracting his hand. 

“Sorry, did I hurt you?” He asked, softly. 

I found myself shaking my head. “No, no. Sorry. Just. Continue.” I said, trying to get the words out without looking at him. I suddenly remembered the strangeness of this situation, and forced myself to calm down as he began to carefully wrap the bandages around my injury, swallowing and looking up. 

“Dr Reid, why are you here?” I asked, carefully. I made sure that my tone was neutral, not trying to express displeasement, but still a bit confused about his intentions here. 

“You took a bullet for me.” He replied, simply, as if that explained why he was in my apartment, looming over me as he tenderly wrapped gauze over my arm, looking at me with the gentlest gaze I’d ever seen on him. I sighed, locking eyes with him. “I know, but-” He interrupted. “No, (Y/N), you don’t know.” 

Immediately, the rage returned to my eyes, the months of dismissal I’d faced from him flooding back in a moment, and those emotions came to full light in that moment. my brows furrowed, my face turning sour. “Oh, I don’t know, Spencer?” I said, sneering at him. “Am I too young, too stupid, too inexperienced for you?” I question, sarcastically. “Am I so dumb, that I wasn’t aware of what I was doing when I stepped in front of you?!” I say, my voice practically yelling at him now. 

“Yes.” He whispered, dangerously close. 

“Excuse me?” 

“Yes. You weren’t aware.” He says, repeats, softer this time. “It’s the only way any of this makes sense. That.. that you were so unaware, so blinded that you weren’t thinking when you stepped in front of me.” He said, quietly, remaining just as close as before. 

“I wasn’t.” I said, firmly, my brows still furrowed but the tension slowly left my face, being replaced with a softness. 

“Why did you do it then?” He said, dropping his gaze as he began to focus more on the bandages. “I haven’t been very forthcoming with you since you’ve begun your time at the BAU.” 

“Ah, so you’ve noticed.” I said, trying to make humor of the situation, but it came out a bit more breathless and dry. I was aware of the intimacy of the situation, and it seemed my body was catching up. I could physically feel the way my cheeks were heating up, and how they were close enough that I could see every breath that exhaled from his lips. How, despite everything, I still desperately wanted to kiss him at that moment. 

I couldn’t be crazy, when he secured the bandages and slowly trailed his eyes over my figure, sitting in front of him. I saw the same desire I felt, reflected in his eyes, and I found myself biting my lip. What the fuck was going on?

“So why’d you do it?” He repeated, still looking at me. 

“It felt natural, I..” I trailed off, trying to find the words to explain what I had felt in that split-second, but instead went with the simplest retelling my brain could manage, considering how close he was. “I didn’t want you to get hurt.” I said, looking at him. “I.. I care about you.” 

I felt stupidly vulnerable. His breath fanned over my face, and I bit my lip. I waited for him to say something, anything, staring anxiously at his face. 

“I’m a good profiler, you know.” He says, softly. 

I  chuckle a little at this, moving away so the tension can be relieved. “Trust me, I’m reminded of that every day.” I said, feeling like the distance between them was now more manageable, allowing me to talk.

But in a moment, he closed that distance to its predecessor, just as close as they were a moment ago. “You learn a lot about body language. Not just by learning to profile, but through years of experience. It just comes naturally, reading people. You can’t really turn it off. It’s like trying to forget how to breathe.” I hung onto his every word, and found my breath hitching when he directed his monologue to me. 

He gently inquires, “Do you understand?” 

I nod, looking up at him, as he inches closer. 

“So I hope you’ll understand and not take offense when I say I’ve been profiling you.” He pauses.  “Would you like to know what I’ve found out?” He says, looking right into my eyes at this point. 

My brain is screaming at me to say no, to not take the bait that he was dangling right in front of me, and to not cross that line tonight. Because, surely, that’s where this was going. I had a sneaking suspicion that the man in front of me was going to ruin me, if I let him. 

Instead, I ignore the instinct and intuition I normally rely on, and nod. “What did you find out, Dr Reid?” I responded, a bit shakier than I wanted to sound. 

“Your pupils dilate when I come near you. It’s an involuntary response, but I notice it every time. I’ve seen it in low and heavy lighting, the only commonality in both those situations being that we were in some proximity to each other.” His voice was low, and seductive, something I’d never heard from him before. 

“Your heart rate.” He murmurs, slowly picking up my wrist and pressing a thumb to the pulse point. “This isn’t exactly the best way to measure heart rate.” He explains, “My thumb. It carries its own pulse that can make it hard to distinguish between mine and yours. But right now, (Y/N)?” He mumbles. “I can tell. Because your pulse is going crazy right now. It’d be hard to miss.”  He said, with a low chuckle.

And he’s right, I can feel my heart getting faster with every second he speaks to me, in that hushed tone that seems to be driving me crazy. 

“It’s not just tonight. I’ve noticed it since the day you walked in.” He whispers, getting closer to my ear, his lips brushing against the shell of my ear. “Since you brought that terrible coffee, actually.” 

I pulled back, letting out a noise that was both composed of surprise and amusement. “Oh come on, it was not that bad.” 

“It was, but I can tell you tried.” He said, a small smirk playing on his face. “It was cute.” He said, now taking the time to brush some hair out of my face. It all happened quickly, his gaze tender and soft, before he captured my lips in a swoon-worthy kiss, pressing himself against me. I quickly melted into the kiss, letting out a satisfied sigh as I gripped his forearm, before rising from the chair as he slowly guided me to my couch. I let out a nervous laugh as my knees hit the cushions, tumbling a bit as I fell onto the soft pillows. He immediately pulled back, breathless, looking at me worriedly. 

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” He murmured softly, kissing me again, a bit more gentle so I could murmur a soft “no” against his lips. 

“Good.” He growled, positioning himself above me on the couch,  beginning to press hot kisses down my neck, eventually reaching my exposed sternum, and looking up at me through hooded lids for implicit consent to continue, to which I nodded, feverishly. 

“Please.” I whispered, hoarsely. 

He took no time in obliging my request, rising a bit to remove the fabric of my shirt in one, clean swoop and continuing his assault on my chest, leaving open-mouthed kissed, eventually switching to nips and playful bites, as he sucked marks into the swell of my breasts, leaving me letting out delighted sighs and soft moans, which only seemed to encourage him to go lower. I arched my back, screwing my eyes shut, until he felt him stop, and come back to my neck. 

He murmured against me, close to my ear. I could feel his lips slowly brush the sensitive skin between my ear and neck, barely giving me any real stimulation, but it was enough to drive me crazy anyway. 

“Keep your eyes open, baby.” He whispers. “I want to see every part of your pretty face when I do this.” He says, returning lower again, leaving little kisses everywhere he could possibly go with his lips. I opened my eyes on command, watching as he went lower and lower, before finding the button on my jeans, slowly undoing them with nimble fingers and moving them off  my legs. I could imagine them so vividly inside me, expertly guiding me to pleasure in a way that mine couldn’t. But right now, if I wasn’t fucked senseless by him right now, I’d just about lose my mind. 

“Spencer.” I whispered, breathlessly. “I need you.” I breathed out. “Please.” 

“You need me to do what?” He asked, smirking as he already began to undo his own belt. 

“Spencer.” I repeated, firmly, not wanting to say the words. 

“Say it.” He says, in a much more commanding tone. 

“Spencer..” I repeat, breathing out again. “Fuck. I need-” I waver on the words, biting my lip. “I need you to fuck me. Now.” 

His smirk turns into a grin of satisfaction and pride, capturing my lips in yet another passionate kiss. “Mm. Wasn’t so hard, was it?” He says, cockily. I whined against his lips, tacitly begging him to just get on with it and he chuckles, moving off of my mouth. 

“Alright. I get it.” He says, moving his lips downwards again, his lips brushing against my underwear, as he began to remove that fabric as well. He nearly moaned when he saw just how wet I really was. It was a bit embarrassing, just from a few touches and words, but it was hard to care when I felt his tongue right on my core, beginning to lap at the hot flesh, reducing me to moans as I knotted my fingers into his hair, arching my back and bucking my hips to feel more of his ministrations. He seemed to understand, hooking his strong arms under my thighs, firmly planting me to the couch we were currently on, continuing. I could feel his moans against me, sending vibrations that only heightened my arousal in that moment. As if that was even possible. 

And then it was, because I heard him murmur against me.“You taste-” he paused, using his tongue to lap up more of my arousal. “So fucking good.” He finished, beginning to now harshly flick at my clit, which caused an entirely new slew of sensations. I recognized my end was fast approaching, and I tugged on his hair, unable to form the words as the white-hot pleasure overtook me quickly, he seemed to understand this without a word, nursing me through my orgasm as my thighs shook around him and he held my hips down. Even then, he didn’t stop, continuing to flick his tongue, lapping up my arousal until I had to physically push him away with a soft groan. “Spencer.. It’s too much.” Even then, he continued, reducing me to nothing but moans, and I heard him whisper. “Come on. One more. Please.” The words unintentionally caused a flutter in my stomach, and in record time I was being pushed towards my second orgasm in a matter of 5 minutes.

His mouth was clearly so much better at this than arguing. 

I felt him lap up the last bit of my arousal, looking up at me with a glistening chin, and I’d be lying if I didn’t say it was the most erotic sight in the world at that moment. The man that had questioned me at every turn, now in between my legs. He gave a smirk, moving up and giving me a rough kiss, and I didn’t hesitate to moan in his mouth when I could taste myself on his tongue. He smiled as he broke the kiss, caressing my cheek with one of his hands. His thumb moved along the smooth expanse of my cheeks. 

“Are you okay?” He asks, gently, concern in his eyes. 

I couldn’t help but break out into a dazed smile, nodding, a thin cover of sheen over my body, where I was still breathing heavily. “Yeah. I’m good.” 

“Good.” He breathed out. “I’m not stopping.” 

“I don’t want you to stop,” was my response, his shirt coming off before I’d even finished my sentence. 

I watched in fascination as he undid his belt, the very sound of it filling me with anticipation and desire. I could feel myself getting more aroused by the second, despite my previous two orgasms. I wanted him, I wanted this so badly. 

I felt him position himself over me, and feeling the head of his arousal run through my folds. I let out a breathy groan, as I felt him push into me. He let out a moan of his own, shutting his eyes. “You feel.. So fucking good.” 

I whimpered slightly as my body adjusted to him and his size. He was so big, and I’d never felt full like this before. He noticed this and placed a gentle kiss against my lips, watching my face as it contorted in pleasure and pain. As the pain began to subside, I looked up at him nodding. 

“Move, please.” I begged, the desperation evident in my voice.

He took no time in obeying my request, beginning to slowly thrust in and out of me. I moaned, feeling his cock stretch me and fill me up in a way I had never been full before. A pleasant sensation bloomed through my lower abdomen, and I could feel him bury his head into my shoulder as he pushed into me, my walls clenching on his length with every movement he gave. He pressed wet kisses into my neck, and I moaned happily at the feeling. In an instant, I could feel him fucking me desperately, placing both of his hands on either side of my face. I could feel my jaw drop, and no sound came out. I was being hurdled towards my third orgasm of the night and it was all at the behest of the man in front of me, plowing into me like it was his job. 

I moaned loudly, my legs wrapping around his waist in an attempt to keep him buried in my deepest point, feeling my release creeping up on me. 

“Sp-Spencer..” I groaned, attempting to alert him of my impending orgasm, but he simply swooped down, kissing me roughly, which only caused me to moan into his mouth. 

“I know, baby.” He whispered, in a deliciously dark tone. “Come for me, baby. Wanna feel you make a mess all over my cock.” 

It took no more provocation from there, as I felt my hips buck up once more and my thighs shake. I came with a loud moan of his name, my free hand gripping onto him and leaving scratches I knew wouldn’t go away for a while. 

My release seemed to spur him on, the wetness allowing him to fuck into me harder. I watched the man above me lose all control, and it was beautiful. He grunted a bit, and I could feel his hips stutter, chasing after his orgasm. 

“Please, Spencer.” I begged. “Fill me up, I need to feel you come inside me.” I whispered. 

It didn’t take long after that, after a particularly hard thrust, a warmness filled me at my hilt and Spencer nearly collapsed over me. He gave me a kiss, murmuring into the skin of my neck. “So perfect, so fucking perfect for me.” 

I smiled at the praise, biting my lip. I let my hand traverse over his back, drawing figures into the warm skin. I looked at the man laying on my sternum, looking absolutely fucked out despite being the one to give me three orgasms tonight. “Perfect, you say?” I teased. 

He looked up at me, kissing my lips softly, before mumbling against them, “Mm. Perfect.” 

I had a sneaking suspicion the next time we were at work, and he’d have something to say about my work, (because he always did), it wouldn’t take long to have him whispering sweet nothings to me in an instant, just like he was now. At least I could do something right on the first try.

hi!! this is my first fanfiction i've written since i was literally in middle school. spoiler. far from middle school right now. leave a comment, reblog, like, whatever! i had fun writing this. my ask box should be open for more requests? if anyone would like. anyway! hope u enjoyed!! :3

[thehighladywrites]

— “I’m just a girl!”

☀︎ — pairing: nerd/tutor azriel x bimbo/ditzy reader

☀︎ — summary: you tell azriel you don’t know what taxes are, and that you haven’t filed them ever

☀︎ — warnings: fluff, dramatic reader, azriel being sweet and educational

☀︎ — amara’s note: man i wish i was her rn💔 also this is so fucking real bc what on earth are taxes???

series masterlist

“Baby, please, you have got to grasp the gravity of this situation. Not filing your taxes is no joke. You could end up behind bars for tax evasion! There was a whole mandatory course last semester, didn’t you take it?” Azriel's tone is firm, his concern painted all over his face as he stands infront of you.

When you revealed that you didn't know what taxes were or how to "file" them, Azriel got worried sick, emphasizing the importance of understanding basic responsibilities like this.

He brought you into the living room, seated you on the sofa, and stood in front of you, carefully explaining step by step why not filing taxes was illegal and how to fix the situation. However, no matter how hard you try, you can't focus on his words, your attention completely consumed by his built muscles. Your mind goes blank as you find yourself daydreaming about him taking off his shirt.

Azriel knows you’re not focusing on his words, he knows you’re ogling his body, and even though he gets warm and loves it, he needs you to focus on the topic, at least for a few minutes.

“Are you paying attention, baby?”

You honestly don’t get it at all. Like, if they take tax from you when you’re shopping, shouldn’t they already know how much you owe or whatever? And who even are the IRS? Can’t you just live your life without all this complicated stuff? Why does Azriel have to make everything so...ugh, what's the word? Complicated?

“Oh my god, Azzie! Stop it, I don’t wanna do this and I don’t understand anything. Please, I’m just a girl!” you exclaim dramatically pulling your knees to your chest as you hide your face in your hands, tears prickling in your eyes. You’re feeling completely overwhelmed by the situation and the sheer thought of dealing with stupid taxes.

Azriel sighs deeply, his brows furrowing as he takes off his glasses and rubs the bridge of his nose. If he doesn’t have a gray hair by the end of the week, he’ll consider it a win. As much as he wants you to understand what is wrong with basically committing a crime, he doesn’t want you crying, he feels sick to his stomach seeing you so sad but he just has to fucking ask.

“You’re—You're just a girl— sweetheart, what does that even mean?” he asks gently, completely flabbergasted by your statement.

You fold your arms over your chest, chin held high as you say, “Ya heard me, m’just a girl. And that means i should not be doing any of this, i should be living my best life instead of thinking about whatever taxes are.”

Azriel just looks at you with raised eyebrows, man you’re stressing him the fuck out. Luckily he caught your illegal activities early otherwise you would have gone to prison for sure. Even though he thinks it was ridiculous for a person to have never done their taxes ever, he doesn’t hold you against it. He just slumps his shoulders, taking a breather. Azriel can never be mad at you, never at his sweet angel. Especially not when you look so upset, big sparkly eyes looking at him with worry.

It’s in that moment. That tiny moment, he decides to never confront you with your mistakes. Sure you almost went to jail, but Azriel is here now. He is intelligent enough to think about the more serious issues for the both of you. And he will for the rest of his life, not because he has to, but because he wants to. He wants to take care of you.

“You’re right, my love, you shouldn’t worry about this. I’ll take care of it,” Azriel assures you, his tone gentle as he tucks a strand behind your ear.

You look up at him, eyes shiny with unshed tears as your face lights up before you stand up and jump into his arms, showering his face with kisses, your excitement bubbling over.

“Awe, you're the best baby, I love you so, so, soooo much!” you exclaimed, your words flowing freely in your ditzy excitement.

He laughs shyly, still getting nervous when you show him affection. “I love you too, beautiful.”

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