#cozy. warm... safe!! for him!!

[phantomuheist]

✧･ﾟ: * 𝐚𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬 : 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.

𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄 🌊

cloudless sky / ocean waves / winter dusk / deserted rest stops / dust filled book jackets / sea salt in your lungs / open space lofts / mountainside meditation / empty ski lodges / calm before storms / electric charged air / lighthouses / road trips with no destination / desert skies / summer breeze through a cottage window / cool air against water soaked skin / seaside towns during off season / wind-chimes / big bed with lots of blankets / coming home after a long time away / a wolf howling in the distance / fingers dancing along spine / a hug from an old friend / afternoon tea / wild flowers off abandoned highways.

𝐑𝐄𝐃 🌹

wine soaked lips / internalized rage / blood on knuckles / four poster beds / barefoot on marble floor / velvet drapes / lipstick marks / murder mysteries / old barns with hay lofts / mouth full of weapons / love / dark chocolate / apple orchard visits / handwritten letters / fresh strawberry fields / cherry flavored chapstick / soft candlelight / vintage pumps / tingles over your body / strong but gentle hand around your throat / scarf tied over your eyes / fog on a rainy night / intimate bar settings / complete destruction / kiss swollen lips / scratches against flesh / sitting by a fireplace / blood orange sunsets.

𝐘𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖 🌻

community gardens / sunflower seeds / open fields / blowing dandelion fluffs / bubbles in spring / warm champagne / drafty cottages opened after winter / soft buzzing near your ear / loose braids / flaxen sundresses / handmade straw hats / warm butter on fresh toast / daisy chains / drum circles / sun on your face / maypoles / outdoor festivals / street food / car shows / pop art drawings / fruity flavors / mist on produce / running through sprinklers / cucumber water / wrap around porches / worn pages of a book / honey in tea / yard sales / freckled skin / tarnished gold lockets / angel food cake / windmills / flashlight beams.

𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐍 🍃

marshy swamps / cajun recipes / haunted graveyards / old road signs / the house people tell stories about / lights flickering / jazz music / twig snapping / campfires / ghost stories / urban exploration / vines creeping up brick / wooden flutes / quiet forests / labored breaths / hiking trails / rain on leaves / bonfires / fresh smoothies / water logged grotto / painful whispers from jealous lovers / successful business ventures / leaky cellars / park theatre productions / mint scented lotions / ambitious promises / pine needle covered floors / oil lanterns / aloe on warmed skin / crushing floral foam / forgotten towns.

𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊 🦇

crinkle of leather jacket / midnight walks / bulbs burning out / black lacquered nails / the sound of bats screeching / distant marching band music / noises when you’re home alone / blood soaked knife / dark lipstick on pale skin / scent of sulfur / soot on boots / slasher movies / glint of cat eyes in the dark / oil slicks on dark asphalt / basement bedrooms / investigating a noise / grainy camera footage / black and white photos / dust filled attics / empty theatres / whistling in the middle of the night / scratches at your window / wrought iron gates / lace neck ruffles / long floor sweeping skirts / broken music boxes / needle scratching on vinyl / lost memories / disembodied voices / forgotten faces.

𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐄 ☁️

crisp scents / laundry on a line / fleece blankets / brightly lit hospital rooms / empty train stations / genuine laughter / feathers against skin / new life / cotton dresses / log cabins in winter / swan gliding through water / harp music floating through the air / plane rides for fun / mountain tops / ice sculptures / first snowflake of winter / linen freshly pressed / the scent of a running dryer / vanilla and cinnamon milk / a smile from a stranger / letters in the mail / a longing finally satiated / kiss of moonlight on skin / fresh canvas / snow glittering like diamonds / paint strokes / pretty lie told from a kind mouth / sparklers / coffee foam art.

Tagged by: no one Tagging: @chibitantei @electricea @epitomees (Makoto or Aigis) @iiguess @spaced-out-muses (Taro) @thuganomxcs and you.

[ysaefinn]

I want to stress your mommy sugu out so bad hjgdjdfg I want to message him something like "I don't feel good :(" when he's out and then turn my phone off and not answer him and then when he comes back just be like "huh? oh I was just hungry :3" and pretend like nothing's wrong jfghkdjfg I just want to see how far I can push him until he punishes me I'M SORRY LMAO

NOT FUNNY ANON!!!! 😭😭 please you would actually give him a heart attack!!!!! He already can't leave you home alone before fussing over you and making sure you have everything you need, so making him worry THEN GHOSTING HIM? You're not getting off easy 😭😭 he's genuinely so patient and indulgent and just coos at your antics but making him worry this much will actually make him crash tf out he's pulling your cheek so hard it leaves a sting when he sees you, THEN FEELS GUILTY and pulls you into his arms and smears a long hard messy kiss on the crown of your head and, whispers a "i was so scared baby.... don't ever do that again okay?..." (tbh this would make me behave for the next month 😭😭)

But you really did plant the seed of worry in his mind. He becomes a lot more coddling. He'll have you on his lap or in his arms all the time moving forward, and you can't complain bcuz he reminds you that you did this to yourself 😭

The only time where he would ACTUALLY be seriously upset for a long time is if you hurt yourself, he would actually freak out and scold you, staring at you so coldly. You can feel his disappointment 😞 (i personally wouldn't be able to live with myself)

[churrobird]

polylosa please stop giving me cute fluffy adorable fic ideas when im laying in bed and dont want to get up and write right this second. please.

[stormbreaker-290]

boutta make you explode with homosexuality with my tired brain thoughts

---

Being held by Malware when he has all those extra hands and sooooo many places to put them and so many little things he could do with them

Gently hold your face with the uppermost pair and play with your hair, letting his claws comb through it and gently boop your nose with his thumb.

The middle set carefully holding you around the torso, kneading into your back and being careful of his claws because he knows how fragile the human body is and how easy his claws could slice your skin apart.

The lowest set resting on your legs, just there and gently holding you close to him

----

Anyway :3

[officalgeorgestaniel]

today's George of The Day is:

George looking like the most boyfriend boyfriend-material in the entire history of the world.

[stiltonbasket]

I see your post answering about 'til the end of the moon au. I read that .... And I want to see more of it!!! Aaaaaaaa. It could be a cute story or an angst story. I dont know if it fortunate that i never see the drama so it wont fill my head with the possible plot or unfortunate because i cant imagine it to quench my curiosity

I haven't seen TTEOTM either; all I know is that the heroine (Ye Xiwu) travels back in time to defeat a demon king(?) and eventually falls in love with him.

I just thought it would be interesting to see an A-Yuan who a) lost several sets of guardians by the age of 16, including Lan Wangji, b) actually believes that Wei Wuxian was responsible for this, and c) stumbles into a "kill the resurrected YLLZ" plot that was supposed to kill him, as the only remaining witness who could conceivably know something about how Lan Wangji was murdered.

A-Yuan would like to escape and get word to the Cloud Recesses ASAP, but this strangely comforting and familiar Xian-gege is going to plant him in the soil today and take him shopping for vegetables tomorrow, so perhaps he'll wait for another day...

[brandwhorestarscream]

The butler Starscream ask made me think of an AU where Starscream is a Decepticon, but when no one's watching he opens a bar under the alias Ulchtar with other Seekers where anyone can come, regardless of faction.

The reason is because the Seekers desperately wants to deliver their hospitality but can't because most of them are fighters.

Starscream opening up an underground club but the only thing the members do is dote on guests and be doted on because seekers love to love? God tier concept

[stardustedknuckles]

Small life pleasure: looking out over a street that brings back memories, watching the rain pour while eating a hot curry dish.

[ep1thymy]

I will not text my ex I will not text my ex I will not I will not I will not

I ran out of tags

One Last time to be held though

I would cry the whole time

But at least I would know

And I could savour every moment until I had to let go

[gf2bellamy]

excitement — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) summary: spencer visits you in your apartment. he doesn't realize penelope is there too. content warnings: secret relationship ? a/n: i haven't had this much fun writing something in ages - garcia is so much fun to write for

Spencer Reid was practically buzzing with excitement. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he walked down the street, clutching a book he'd been waiting months to get his hands on.

But what thrilled him even more than the book itself was where he was headed—and who he was about to see. 

You. 

You were his favorite person in the world, the one who made the chaos of his job and his overactive mind feel calm, centered, and safe.

Tonight, he planned to settle into your cozy apartment, his head in your lap, your fingers combing through his hair, while he read the book he’d ordered ages ago. The thought alone was enough to make his steps quicken. 

Spencer’s long legs carried him up the stairs to your apartment, his mind preoccupied with his excitement to tell you all about his book. When he reached your door, he pulled out the key you'd given him months ago—a small gesture that still warmed his heart whenever he thought about it—and let himself in. 

He was so caught up in his thoughts that he barely registered anything else. Such as Penelope's shoes at the door or her jacket.

A soft hum escaped his lips as he closed the door behind him, kicking it shut gently with his foot. 

Spencer took off his shoes, leaving them by the door , same with his jacket. He moved with a deliberate quietness, tiptoeing toward the kitchen. A soft smile danced on his lips as he peeked around the corner, watching you stand there with your back to him. 

Without hesitation, he stepped closer and slid his arms gently around your waist from behind, pressing a tender kiss to your temple. His touch was warm and familiar, showing how much he had missed you. 

“Hi,” he murmured, his voice soft and full of affection. 

You jumped at the sudden contact, startled, your body going stiff as a flicker of panic surged through you. 

“Spencer, wait—” you started, your voice just above a whisper, but he was gazing at you with that sweet, boyish smile that always made your heart stutter. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his expression soft and utterly oblivious to your alarm. 

You stared at him, momentarily distracted by how happy he looked. The way his eyes crinkled at the corners, the adoration in his gaze—it made your mind go blank for a second. 

“Hi,” he repeated softly, leaning in to nuzzle his face against your cheek. 

And then it hit you again. Oh, no. 

“Spencer,” you hissed, your voice dropping to a sharp whisper as you heard a faint noise from the other room. 

“What?” he asked, his brow furrowing in confusion.

“Penelope is here,” you whispered urgently, your hands moving to grip his forearms. 

His entire body tensed as the words sank in. “What?” he asked again, his voice an octave higher this time, his expression shifting from confusion to alarm. 

“Yes,” you whispered , glancing nervously toward the living room. “She’s here. She’s in the other room!” 

For a split second, Spencer froze, and you could feel the wave of panic rolling through him. His arms slackened slightly, his gaze darting between you and the doorway.

“You didn’t mention she’d be here tonight!” he whispered back, his voice tinged with borderline panic. 

“I wasn’t expecting you so early!” you shot back, keeping your voice low. 

He stared at you, wide-eyed, and for a moment, you were pretty sure this was one of the rare instances where Spencer Reid was completely speechless.

His mouth opened as if to say something, but nothing came out. 

Another noise from the living room broke the tense silence, and you immediately wriggled out of his touch, your mind racing for a solution. 

“Just say you came to, uh…” you started, your voice trailing off as you tried to conjure up an excuse. 

“Give you a book,” Spencer interjected suddenly, his voice quiet but urgent. He held up the hardcover like it was a golden ticket. “I got the book I told you about. I wanted to read it here, actually.” 

You noticed the way he scratched the back of his head nervously. It was so endearing, your heart ached a little. He’d clearly been looking forward to spending the evening with you. 

“I’m sorry,” you said softly, your lips curling into an apologetic smile as you reached out to brush your fingers lightly against his arm. “I promise, you’ll get to read it soon.” 

“With you,” he added quickly, his eyes meeting yours. 

“With me,” you confirmed, the tenderness in his gaze making you momentarily forget about the storm brewing in the next room. 

And then Penelope’s voice rang out from the living room: 

“Why do you have two toothbrushes in here?” 

Both of you froze. Spencer’s eyes widened comically, and you watched as a flash of panic spread across his face. 

You stifled a laugh, your shoulders shaking slightly at his frantic attempt to keep it together.

Meanwhile, Penelope’s footsteps grew louder. 

“Just… stay calm,” you whispered, biting your lip to keep from giggling outright. “Stay calm?” Spencer whispered back, clutching the book like a shield. “She’s about to start connecting the dots, and you want me to stay calm?” 

Before you could respond, Penelope’s voice cut through the silence once again. 

“I require an answer—” she started, but the rest of her words caught in her throat the moment her eyes landed on Spencer standing there, wide-eyed and awkward. 

“Well, hello there,” she said, her expression shifting into a sly smile as she tilted her head. 

Spencer froze like a deer in headlights, his grip on the book tightening. Meanwhile, you stood rooted to the spot, trying to keep your own expression neutral, though your mind was scrambling for a way to diffuse the situation. 

“I—uh—I came here to drop off a… book,” Spencer stammered, holding up the hardcover like it was an offering of peace. 

Penelope arched an eyebrow, her smile widening as she crossed her arms and leaned against the doorway. “How thoughtful of you, Doctor Reid,” she said, her tone dripping with playful suspicion. “I assume this was a very urgent delivery, considering you brought it over in person and not, you know, gave it to her tomorrow. At work.” 

Spencer blinked, clearly flustered, and glanced at you for help. You, however, couldn’t suppress a small grin as you watched this unfold. 

“It’s, uh… a very special book,” he continued, his voice cracking slightly. “Rare. Hard to find. I thought she’d appreciate it sooner rather than later.” 

Penelope’s eyes sparkled with amusement as she stepped a little closer, clearly enjoying how nervous he was. “Uh-huh,” she said slowly, her gaze flicking between the two of you. “And how long were you planning on staying for this… literary exchange?” 

“Not long!” Spencer blurted out, his voice a bit too loud. “I was just… going to, uh…” 

You bit back a laugh as you saw the panic flood his face. Spencer was completely unraveling under Penelope’s relentless curiosity, and you figured it was time to step in. 

“Pen,” you interrupted, holding up a hand to stop her. “Stop torturing him. He did just come by to drop off a book. Isn’t that right, Spence?” 

“Y-yes,” Spencer stammered, nodding furiously. 

“Perfect,” you said smoothly, placing a hand on his arm and giving him a reassuring squeeze. “Spencer, why don’t you just go put the book in my room?” 

His eyes flicked to yours, and he nodded again, clearly grateful for the lifeline. Without another word, he hurried down the hallway toward your room, clutching the book.

As soon as Spencer disappeared down the hallway, Penelope turned back to you, her grin widening, a mischievous glint dancing in her eyes. 

“Spencer is here,” she stated flatly, her smile never wavering. 

“I’m very aware of that,” you replied, giving her a pointed look. You tried your best to keep your composure, but the urge to nervously tap your fingers on the counter was almost overwhelming.Something about Penelope's tone was starting to make you uneasy, and you were unsure of what direction this was going. 

“He’s in your home,” she added again, this time stretching out the words like they were some sort of grand revelation. 

“Pen,” you said slowly, raising an eyebrow as you turned to face her. Your confusion was now shifting into something else.The two cups of tea you’d made earlier sat forgotten on the counter. 

You heard Spencer’s footsteps approaching from the hallway, and as he rounded the corner back into the kitchen, Penelope’s eyes followed him like a hawk, never missing a beat. 

“And he knows where your room is,” she added, her grin spreading wider than ever. 

The words hung in the air for a moment, and you were pretty sure you and Spencer came to the same realization at the exact same time. 

Penelope had caught you. 

Your heart skipped a beat as you watched Spencer freeze mid-step, his expression going blank as his eyes flicked to Penelope, and then back to you. There was no hiding it now. 

You could practically hear the wheels turning in his mind. 

“Penelope” you started, but the words caught in your throat as you tried to process everything in a split second. 

You turned to Spencer, locking eyes with him, silently begging him to help you come up with something—anything that could smooth this over. But Spencer just stood there, wide-eyed and frozen, clearly as baffled as you were.

Before either of you could find an excuse, Penelope let out an ear-piercing screech, making you flinch and almost slap your hands over your ears. 

“Oh my god!” she yelled, practically vibrating with excitement as she realized what your silence meant. She started hopping up and down. “I’m so happy for you!” 

“Penelope—” you tried again, your voice edged with panic, but she wasn’t listening. 

“Oh my god,” she repeated, this time slower, her tone laced with dramatic revelation. Her hand shot out, pointing directly at Spencer like she’d just solved a crime. 

“You!” she exclaimed, her eyes darting back and forth between the two of you. “Do you… live here?” 

You and Spencer both froze, exchanging a quick, panicked glance. Before either of you could deny it, Penelope’s eyes widened. 

“There were two toothbrushes,” she said, gasping like she’d just remembered something crucial. “Oh my god.” Her voice grew louder, each word building with excitement. “You live here!” 

“Penelope, no, it’s not like—” you started, holding your hands out in a desperate attempt to calm her down, but she barreled right over your words. 

“Don’t even try to deny it!” she nearly shouted, spinning around to face Spencer again.

Spencer, who had been awkwardly clutching his book to his chest like a shield, took a small step back as if he could physically escape Penelope’s relentless questioning. “I… I don’t live here,” he stammered weakly, though even he sounded unconvinced. 

Penelope narrowed her eyes at him, a grin still plastered across her face. “Uh-huh. Sure. That’s why there are two toothbrushes in the bathroom. Oh! And don’t think I didn’t notice the extra pair of shoes by the door. Size 10 men’s, Spence!” 

You groaned, pressing a hand to your forehead as you felt your face flush with heat. This wasn’t just a confrontation anymore—this was a full-blown exposé. 

Penelope narrowed her eyes at you, her mind clearly racing as she tried to piece everything together. “How long has this been going on? How did I miss this? I mean, I am the queen of observation and gossip, and somehow you two snuck this right under my nose?” She started rambling, her words spilling out faster than either of you could respond. 

You shot a desperate look at Spencer, silently pleading for backup, but he just stood there wide-eyed.

Realizing you were on your own, you sighed and grabbed one of the tea cups sitting on the counter. It was lukewarm at best, but you needed something to focus on before Penelope’s intensity made your head spin. 

“Okay, come on,” you said, cutting through her rambling as gently as you could. You gestured toward the counter and guided her to sit on one of the stools. She followed you without protest, though she kept muttering under her breath, her curiosity clearly not yet satisfied. 

Spencer hovered behind you like an awkward shadow, his book still clutched to his chest like a lifeline. 

Penelope took the tea you handed her, sipping it absentmindedly. Her face scrunched slightly at the taste—it was cold and bitter by now—but she was too busy overthinking to notice or care. 

Spencer leaned down slightly, his lips brushing close to your ear as he whispered, “Is she… okay?” 

You fought back a laugh, biting your lip to suppress the grin that threatened to spread across your face. Tilting your head just enough to glance back at him over your shoulder, you whispered, “I think she’s broken.” 

A soft laugh escaped Spencer, his smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he looked at you, his expression so warm and full of affection that your heart skipped a beat. 

Before you could get lost in the moment, a loud, happy sigh broke the bubble around you both. 

The two of you snapped your attention back to Penelope, who was now sitting with her elbows propped on the counter, her chin resting in her hands as she gazed at you with a dreamy, contented smile. 

“I knew it,” she declared, her voice brimming with satisfaction. “I knew there was something between you two. But this… this is better than anything I could have imagined. It’s like a rom-com came to life right in front of me.”  

Spencer scratched the back of his neck, his face flushing an impressive shade of pink. “I don’t think it’s as dramatic as you’re making it sound,” he said awkwardly. 

Penelope gasped theatrically, pointing a finger at him. “That’s where you’re wrong, Doctor Reid. This is exactly as dramatic as I’m making it sound. I mean, look at you two! It’s disgustingly adorable. I don’t even care that you didn’t tell me sooner. I forgive you, because this—” she gestured wildly between the two of you, “—was worth the wait.” 

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help laughing as Spencer shifted uncomfortably, clearly unsure of how to respond to her enthusiasm. 

“This has been a wonderful night,” she said dramatically, clasping her hands together like she was narrating a fairytale. 

“Penelope,” you said, finally admitting defeat, “you cannot tell anyone.” 

Her expression shifted to an exaggerated pout, her brow furrowing as she looked between you and Spencer. You could feel his hand settle on the small of your back. 

“But why?” she whined, her tone bordering on indignant. “This is huge! People need to know about this. Do you realize how many people on the team have been secretly hoping for this to happen?” 

You sighed, glancing at Spencer for support. He gave you a small shrug, clearly as stumped as you were. 

“It’s… it’s just that we’d prefer to keep this private for now,” you explained, trying to sound firm but gentle. 

“Exactly,” Spencer echoed softly, speaking for the first time since Penelope had pieced everything together. 

Her gaze flicked to him, and for a moment, her excitement dimmed slightly. She studied the two of you, her expression softer now, almost understanding. 

“Okay,” she muttered, though it was clear she wasn’t thrilled. “Fine. I won’t say anything. For now.” 

You let out a small breath of relief, but it was short-lived as she hopped off the counter with a dramatic flourish. “Well, you two lovebirds have a beautiful evening,” she said, her voice sing-songy again as she grabbed her bag. 

“Penelope, hey—wait,” you called after her, guilt creeping in. “You don’t have to leave.” 

She stopped mid-step, turning back to look at you with raised eyebrows. “Oh, I definitely do,” she said, waving a finger in the air. “Because if I stay, I’ll just end up asking a million more questions or texting Derek, and you specifically told me not to do that. So, for the sake of your precious privacy, I’m going to remove myself from the situation.” 

You opened your mouth to protest, but she cut you off with a knowing smile. “It’s fine,” she said softly, her tone genuine now. “I’ll leave you two alone. But just so you know, I’m very happy for you. And I mean that.” 

Spencer gave her a small smile. “Thanks, Penelope.” 

She beamed at him before turning back to you. “Oh, and one more thing—if you two keep this a secret forever, I will be mad. Just putting that out there.” 

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Noted.” 

She practically skipped to the wardrobe by the door. Both you and Spencer followed her, Spencer instinctively reaching for her jacket before she could even ask. 

“Thank you, loverboy,” she said with a teasing lilt as she accepted the jacket from him. Spencer’s ears turned a vivid shade of red, the flush creeping all the way up his neck. 

You couldn’t help but smile at the interaction, the fondness in your expression impossible to hide. Lightly squeezing Spencer’s hand, you felt his fingers tighten around yours in response. 

Penelope caught the moment, her grin widening as she shrugged on her jacket. “Oh, you two are going to kill me with how cute you are. I swear, I’m going to need to schedule a therapy session after this—just to process the sheer amount of joy.” 

As she finished putting on her shoes, she looked up at the two of you, her expression turning more serious. “But really—thank you for letting me in on this, even if it wasn’t exactly intentional.” 

You smiled warmly at her, wanting to make up for the messed up night. “How about we do this tomorrow?” you suggested, hoping to ease her disappointment at cutting the night short. 

Penelope’s eyes lit up instantly. “Oh, yes! I’m going to need all the details. No sparing me the juicy bits, okay?” she said, pointing a playful finger at you. 

“Totally,” you replied with a small laugh, glad to see her mood lift again. 

“Well, I’m off now,” she announced dramatically, stepping toward you with open arms. You hugged her tightly, murmuring another soft, “Sorry,” into her shoulder. 

“Oh, stop that,” she chided gently, pulling back to give you a reassuring smile. Then, turning to Spencer, she reached out to lightly squeeze his arm. “And you,” she added with a teasing grin, “take care of our girl.” 

Spencer flushed, the tips of his ears turning pink, but he managed a small, shy smile. “I will,” he said softly, his voice sincere. 

Satisfied, Penelope gave a little wave as she turned to the door. “Goodnight, lovebirds! And don’t forget—I’m expecting details tomorrow.” 

“Goodnight, Penelope,” you both called after her in unison. 

As soon as the door clicked shut, you and Spencer turned to face each other, locking eyes for a brief moment before bursting into laughter.

“We are so dead,” you said between chuckles, shaking your head. 

“She’s going to tell everyone,” Spencer added, though his tone wasn’t nearly as panicked as before. 

You looked at him, your smile softening as the laughter subsided. “How about you go grab your book?” you suggested, tilting your head toward the hallway. 

Spencer didn’t hesitate. He spun on his heel and practically bolted to your room, moving so quickly it was almost comical. You let out another small chuckle, shaking your head fondly as you made your way to the couch. 

Settling down into your usual spot, you pulled a throw blanket over your legs and adjusted the cushions, making yourself comfortable. Moments later, Spencer returned, his book clutched in one hand. He stood there for a moment, looking at you with a contented smile, as though this quiet, simple moment was all he needed. 

“Come here,” you said gently, patting your lap. 

He didn’t need to be told twice. Spencer crossed the room and settled onto the couch, stretching out and laying his head in your lap. Your fingers found their way to his hair instinctively, weaving through the soft strands in a familiar, soothing motion. 

This was your routine, one you’d both fallen into, it felt like second nature. Spencer opened his book, the faint rustle of the pages filling the quiet space. 

After a few minutes, you broke the quiet. “Are you mad about Pen finding out?” you asked softly, your fingers brushing gently through his hair, pushing back the curls that had fallen into his eyes. 

“What? No,” he replied, tilting his head slightly to look up at you, his gaze full of warmth. 

You smiled at his response, but his curious expression prompted him to ask, “Why? Is it upsetting you?” 

You shook your head, a quiet laugh escaping as you glanced down at him. “No, no. Just a bit worried about how obvious she’s going to be when we get back to work,” you admitted, shifting your gaze to the wall in front of you as your fingers continued their soothing path through his hair. 

Spencer gently touched your wrist, his fingers warm against your skin. “Well, she’s gonna be plenty obvious, but is that really such a bad thing?” he asked, his voice soft but thoughtful. He paused for a moment before adding, “I mean… I wouldn’t mind if they knew about us.” 

His words made you stop for a second, and you looked down at him, your smile widening. “You wouldn’t?” you asked, surprised but clearly pleased by his honesty. 

“No,” he said, his voice quiet. Finally, he met your gaze, and there was a vulnerability in his eyes that made your heart flutter. 

You resumed your gentle motions in his hair, feeling comforted by his sincerity. “Well, in that case,” you murmured, “tell me about your book.” 

And just like that, the shift in conversation had Spencer smiling like a child, his excitement clear as he started to rave about it, his voice animated and his eyes lighting up. You couldn’t help but smile at how easily he could lose himself in something that made him happy. 

You listened intently, absently running your fingers through his hair as he spoke, savoring this little piece of your routine with him.

[cathnospam]

Bakugo likes when you trace and touch his scars

For a guy that constantly hates when people touch him ,he sure as hell doesn’t mind when you touch and rub around his marks on his right arm.

He’s not even left handed but he takes the sacrifice and struggles to use his left to text or write whenever you come beside him and poke and rub against his bicep. He’s sensitive on some areas even 8 years later, but he loves the warm comfort you bring when you do so.

Sometimes you don’t even realize you’re doing it, your chubby cheek mashed against his arm, cuddled up by him like a cat and rubbing it up and down as you watch a show, he glances down at you and can’t help but feel his cheeks warm. You give this man cute aggression.

Some days you sneak in a few kisses on his hand. Though it’s scarred it’s never calloused, still soft and warm, it took some time for Bakugo to even get used to your clingyness, and you respected it. In the beginning, Every once in a while you’d ask “May I touch you?” Which, he’d never admit to but he appreciated your asking heavily, not a lot of people respect his boundaries to NOT touching him, but you always did.

Eventually he just told you ,”touch me whereever you want.” In his aggressive way, but you took heed and did so.

After finally getting comfortable you couldn’t stop touching and kissing him.

His skin was soft, he smelled amazing, and he always made you feel so safe. Just like he is now;

The snow is falling, the fire is burning, and it’s his day off, you’re laying beside him on the cozy big couch not even paying attention to the show but his arm and face, giving it little kisses and gentle touches, Bakugo humming every once in a while when you touch a soft spot on him. He doesn’t mind it all, he’s watching you through his phone, recording you lost in your own world of fascination with his skin—-because of course he has a staring problem just like how you have a touching problem.

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

The way Nanami subtly doms you

Tags: dom!Nanami x fem!Reader, sub!Reader, dom/sub relationship, NO age regression, sub space.

An: yeah idk i feel like nanami’s very subtle with his domming style, but i see shiu kong as full on dom.

• Nanami isn’t the type to flex his dominance over you. He doesn’t have to be rude or degrading to drive the point home. You know exactly when he gives you that look, it means to behave. His hazel eyes cut in your direction, and his eyebrow raises ever so slightly, like he’s amused by your disobedience. However, he doesn’t smile — doesn’t reward bad behavior.

• “Want to say that again?”, “Language.”, “Didn’t I tell you no pouting?” when you’re being a brat and mouthing off. bonus points if he’s pulling his tie away from his neck and slowly wrapping it around his palm.

• It’s simple, but he gives you his hoodies or coats to wear when you’re out and about. He likes seeing his clothes encompassed your body, and he enjoys that everyone will immediately be able to tell just whose you are.

• Speaking of clothes, Nanami’s not the type to tell you when you can and can’t wear something. He’s confident in his abilities to keep you safe, but that doesn’t mean he won’t make suggestions. “Are you sure about the skirt, sweetheart? I don’t want your legs getting cold.”

• He takes great care of you in an inconspicuous manner. He’ll adjust your clothes on you, buttoning up your top or gently fixing your unruly hair. He’ll throw your towel and pajamas (that he picked out for you) in the dryer when you’re in the shower, so they are all warm and cozy for you when you get out.

• Nanami is also the type to set a pretty firm bedtime for you. He knows how much you like to stay up and how ill you get in the mornings if you hadn’t had a minimum of 8 hours of rest. So, he sets you on a pretty strict bedtime schedule and routine. Don’t worry. He’s there every night to cuddle you to sleep.

• Insistent that you hold his hand while you two are out. He knows how distractible you are, and it eases his mind when your palm rests in his.

• The way he talks can throw you straight into a more submissive headspace, and he knows it too. He doesn’t do it often, but when he notices you getting too stressed or burnt out, he’ll immediately start with the dom talk, “My baby needs a break, doesn’t she?” He’ll coo and pull you into his lap, and when you inevitably lean into his touch, “There she is. Did my baby miss me?”

• Nanami sees it as a gentlemanly thing, but it could also be seen as another form of domming. He doesn’t let you touch a single door handle if he’s with you, and you best believe he’s walking on the outside. You’re tucked beside him on the inside of the sidewalk. He’ll also never let you hold a shopping bag. No, he does not care that he’s holding a bunch of Victoria’s Secret and Ulta bags. He pays for everything. If your car needs gas, Nanami fills it up.

• On the off chance that you two are out, and he’s not right beside you, all he has to do is curl his finger and point at the ground in front of him to let you know that he wants you to come to him, and you better do as you’re told.

• The king of giving simple stern instructions. “Look at me.” “Speak up, baby.”, “Come here, now.”, “Give me a kiss.”, “Ask nicely.”

• Nanami will sit on the couch, spread his legs, and pat his knee when he wants you to sit on his lap. He doesn’t even have to give simple instructions for that.

• Even while he does all this, he respects your independence, autonomy, and intelligence. Let’s bffr rn he’s your biggest supporter in everything you do. He’s so in love with you because he knows how smart and hard working you are. He’s so damn lucky that he gets to be the man to pamper you and ease your weary mind. He loves being that safe space for you, so you can just relax, lean on him, and just be you.

[fawnsflowerbed]

UHHHH KINDA NSFW WARNING SUGGESTIVE BUT HGUGSGJSZGKJSKDHKH

Idgaf what anyone says Sylus the type of guy to just saunter up behind you and grab your tits because you said he can.

Have you established in the past that you're comfortable with it? Absolutely. You know if you'd declined he wouldn't be acting like this, he’s a gentleman. Well, to some degree. And that is the reason this man abuses the power you've given him. You fool, you absolute buffoon. You've given him consent, you've enabled him to squish your boobs and that man has found his new favourite stress toy.

One hand holding the phone he's on call with, other hand smooshing your tit with the slyest, most shit-eating smirk in the world plastered across his smug face. Taking a shower together? squeezing those soapy tits. Convinced him to cuddle with you to stay nice and warm and cozy. Boobs. Nowhere is safe.

You might be a kitten to him, but sweetie that man is kneading your chest like a cat makes biscuits, humming low in his throat out of content when you huff and pout and whine. He especially loves to do it when you're all sleepy when he hops up to get ready for his night life, the way you scrunch your little nose like an angry cat but don't make any sort of move to stop him. In fact, you never do.

Part of him thinks you're seriously starting to secretly love it.

[soapysoapysoapysoapy]

Ghost AU: Dancer x Bouncer!Simon Riley | Author's note: smut! for some reason Simon is only hot to me in AU contexts; you're welcome btw

You hated Simon Riley from the moment you met him.

Stone-faced, hulking, rude as hell—he never smiled, never talked unless he had to, and always watched you from across the club like you were a goddamn criminal instead of one of the top dancers pulling in customers. His arms would stay crossed over his massive chest, black bouncer tee stretched tight, and his masked face just staring while you worked your magic.

The worst part? You knew he wanted you.

You could see it in the way his eyes would track your every move when you led some drunk asshole to a VIP booth. In the way his fists would flex when a customer got a little too handsy. He'd never admit it, though. Too proud. Too broody.

And he was an asshole, too. Always letting his 141 buddies—some group of Special Forces dickheads—get away with everything. They'd show up, loud and laughing, tossing money around, thinking they owned the place. You weren't even supposed to bring anyone into the private rooms without management’s approval, but if it was his friends? Simon didn’t say a damn word.

You swore he got off on making your nights harder.

That was until Johnny showed up.

Johnny was different. Sweet, funny, a little cocky but in a way that made you grin instead of grit your teeth. He actually talked to you like you were a person, not a piece of meat. When you flirted with him, it felt natural—not forced, not fake for the sake of tips.

One night after your shift, Johnny caught you smoking outside, all dolled up with nowhere to go. He offered to walk you home. Said it wasn't safe for a “pretty thing like you” out in the dark. You almost laughed him off, but his lopsided smile made you say yes.

And fuck, he was a good kisser.

One thing led to another—slow touches, pressed up against the door to your shitty apartment—and you realized maybe hooking up with a customer wasn’t the worst thing in the world. Maybe the rules were stupid. Maybe breaking them felt good.

But of course, Simon had to ruin it.

The next night, you caught him at the back of the club, arms crossed, leaning against the wall. Watching. Judging.

"You gettin' cozy with Soap now?" he muttered when you walked past, low and mocking.

You stopped dead in your heels, turning to glare at him. “Not that it’s any of your damn business, bouncer boy.”

His eyes flicked over you, slow and heavy. Like he was undressing you with just a glance. “Figured you’d have more standards.”

You laughed, sharp and mean. "Coming from the guy who babysits his drunk military buddies? Please."

For a second, it looked like he might actually say something real. Instead, he just stared you down, his jaw clenching under the black mask, something dangerous flashing in his gaze. The tension snapped tight between you—thick enough to choke on.

You hated him. He hated you.

The club was packed, a haze of smoke and cheap perfume clinging to the air. The bass thrummed through the floor, rattling up your spine as you moved, slow and sultry, weaving between the crowd. You spotted Johnny instantly—grinning that easy, boyish grin from the VIP booth, a whiskey glass in his hand, eyes glued to you.

He waved you over like you were old friends. You hesitated, glancing over your shoulder.

Simon was on the far side of the room, posted up near the bar. Arms crossed, black shirt tight across his chest, mask in place. Watching. Always fucking watching.

Good. Let him.

You smirked to yourself and sashayed your way over to Johnny, sliding into his lap like you owned him. His hands immediately found your hips, warm and heavy, but he didn’t push—you liked that about him. He was sweet. Playful. Not like the other guys who came through here.

You leaned down, whispering something filthy into Johnny’s ear just to be a brat, just to feel Simon’s eyes burning holes through your skin from across the room.

You felt it. The weight of Simon’s gaze. The way the room seemed to tilt toward him, even though he hadn't moved.

Yet.

Then Johnny’s hand slid a little lower, fingertips brushing the top of your thigh—right where your garters met bare skin—and that was it.

The next thing you knew, Simon was there, ripping you up off Johnny’s lap with a roughness that made you gasp. One hand wrapped firmly around your wrist, the other braced against your lower back, hauling you bodily away from the booth.

"Oi—!" Johnny started to protest, half-standing.

"Sit the fuck down, Soap," Simon growled—growled—without even looking at him. His voice was low, lethal, enough to make Johnny immediately freeze.

You struggled against Simon’s grip, half-hearted, more out of pride than real resistance. "The fuck is your problem, Riley?!"

He didn’t answer. Didn’t even look at you.

He dragged you down the hall toward the back rooms, shoving open the door to an empty storage closet and forcing you inside ahead of him.

The door slammed shut.

Silence.

Then Simon stepped closer—slow, controlled, a fucking storm brewing behind his mask.

"You think you’re clever, prancin’ around like that?" he rasped, voice pitched low and dangerous. "Sittin' in his lap, lettin' him touch you?"

You swallowed hard, heart hammering. “I wasn’t doing anything against the rules,” you snapped, but your voice shook.

He laughed. A dark, humorless sound.

"Fuck the rules."

Before you could blink, he crowded you up against the wall, one massive hand slamming next to your head, trapping you. His other hand gripped your chin, forcing you to look up at him.

“You’ve been fuckin’ teasing me for months,” he hissed. “Walkin’ ‘round here like you don’t know what you’re doin’ to me.”

You opened your mouth—whether to fight or surrender, you didn’t even know—but he didn’t give you the chance.

He kissed you.

Hard. Bruising. Teeth and tongue and heat, swallowing the sound you made, pinning you completely. His body caged yours, so much larger, so much hotter, pressing you deeper into the wall.

His hands found your hips, gripping so tight you knew there’d be bruises. He dragged your hips against his, and fuck, he was already hard.

"This what you wanted, yeah?" he growled against your lips. "Wanted to get fucked by the bouncer, huh? Wanted me to show you who you really belong to?"

You whimpered before you could stop yourself, grinding against him, desperate for more.

He laughed again, but this time it was low, darkly pleased.

"You’re not leavin' this room 'til you can’t even think about another man touchin’ you," he promised, voice rough with want.

And somehow, you believed him.

You barely had time to catch your breath before Simon's hands were everywhere—yanking your top down, dragging the skirt of your costume up your thighs. His touch was rough, all frustrated hunger, no patience left.

"You like bein' a little tease, don't you?" he rasped against your throat, teeth scraping over your pulse point. "Paradin' yourself around for anyone with a few quid."

You gasped when he shoved your panties to the side, two fingers dragging through the slick heat between your thighs. He groaned, low and guttural, when he felt how wet you already were.

"Fuckin’ knew it," he growled. "Knew you wanted this."

You couldn’t speak—you could barely think. All you could do was arch against him, whimpering when he pressed those thick fingers inside you without warning, curling them just right.

"Look at you," he murmured against your ear. "Already so fuckin’ desperate. Bet Johnny didn't even get you this wet, did he?"

You shook your head frantically, your hands clawing at his shoulders, tugging at his shirt, needing more.

Simon chuckled darkly, dragging his fingers out of you only to undo his belt one-handed, pants shoved down just enough to free his cock. He was big—thick and heavy in his fist—and your mouth watered at the sight of him, even through the haze of lust.

"Turn around," he ordered, voice sharp.

You obeyed before you even realized it, facing the wall, hands braced against the cool concrete. You felt him behind you, lining up, the head of his cock dragging through your folds in lazy, teasing strokes that made your knees threaten to buckle.

"You sure about this?" he asked, voice a little lower, a little rougher. Beneath the dominance, there was still that careful thread of control—Simon Riley never took what wasn't given.

"Yes," you whispered. "Please, Simon—fuck—please."

That was all he needed.

He slammed into you in one brutal thrust, forcing a broken cry from your lips as you stretched around him, full to the point of pain-turned-pleasure. He didn't give you time to adjust—just gripped your hips tight enough to leave bruises and fucked you like he meant it.

Fast, hard, relentless.

The slap of skin against skin filled the tiny room, mixed with your desperate little gasps and his filthy muttered curses.

"So fuckin' tight," he growled, pounding into you. "So fuckin' perfect."

Your head dropped forward, forehead pressed to the wall, as he rutted into you like a man possessed. His hand snaked around your waist, fingers finding your clit and rubbing rough, fast circles that had you screaming his name within seconds.

"That's it," he panted. "Let 'em hear you. Let everyone out there know who’s fuckin' you now."

The coil inside you snapped—white-hot and violent—your orgasm crashing over you so hard your vision blacked out at the edges. Your whole body shook, clenching around him, dragging a guttural snarl from deep in Simon’s chest.

He cursed again, low and savage, before slamming deep one last time, hips grinding into yours as he spilled inside you, filling you up with thick, hot pulses that made you shudder all over again.

For a long moment, the only sounds were your ragged breathing and the low hum of the club outside.

Simon stayed pressed to your back, his forehead resting against the side of your head, still inside you, panting like he'd just run a marathon.

Finally, he spoke—his voice rough and dangerous against your skin: "You're mine now, sweetheart."

And you were. You knew there was no coming back from this. No running. No pretending. Not with Simon Riley.

The second the high started to fade, you slumped against the wall, legs trembling, skin flushed and hypersensitive. Simon was still pressed against you, breathing heavy, his chest rising and falling against your back.

Slowly—almost gently—he pulled out, a soft hiss slipping through his teeth at the loss of your warmth. You whimpered, your body aching and used, but in the best possible way.

Simon didn’t say anything at first.

Just tucked himself back into his pants, fixed his belt one-handed, and then turned his attention fully back to you.

Without a word, he bent down, thick fingers hooking under your thighs, lifting you up like you weighed nothing. You squeaked in surprise, hands flying to his shoulders.

"Shhh," he murmured, voice still rough but quieter now. "Got you."

He sat you down carefully on an old storage crate, crouching in front of you. His gloved hand brushed your hair back from your face—surprisingly tender for someone who'd just wrecked you against a wall—and then he used his thumb to wipe a tear track off your cheek you hadn't even realized was there.

"You alright, love?" he asked, voice low but sincere.

You nodded, still a little dazed, a soft, fucked-out smile tugging at your lips. "Yeah... just... wow."

He huffed a small laugh, the tiniest crack in that usual stoic front.

Then his eyes darkened again.

"You don’t let anyone else touch you like that," he said firmly, voice dipping into something almost dangerous. "Not Soap. Not any fuckin' customer."

You blinked at him, heat rising to your cheeks.

"You made yourself real clear out there," you teased, but there was no real bite to it.

Simon leaned closer, until his masked mouth was hovering right at your ear.

"You’re mine now," he said again, like a vow, low and fierce. "Only mine."

You shivered, not from cold, but from the possessiveness dripping from every word.

He stood, towering over you again, and grabbed a discarded clean towel from a shelf. Without asking, he knelt between your legs, parting them easily, and started gently cleaning you up—careful, thorough, murmuring under his breath whenever you winced.

"Could've gone easier on you," he muttered, almost to himself. "Couldn't fuckin' help it. You drive me crazy, prancin’ around in those little outfits."

You bit your lip, trying to hide your smile.

Once he was satisfied you were alright, Simon stood again, grabbing your chin between his fingers and forcing you to look at him.

"You need somethin’, you come to me, yeah?" His eyes, the only part of his face visible behind the mask, burned into yours. "Don’t care what it is. Don’t care if I’m on shift, don’t care if it’s three in the fuckin’ mornin’. You come to me."

You nodded, swallowing thickly. "Okay."

"Good girl," he murmured.

The praise made your stomach flip wildly.

He helped you stand, smoothing your clothes down as best he could before tucking you close to his side, his big hand splayed protectively on your hip like a silent warning to the rest of the world.

When he finally opened the door to the club again, you caught sight of Johnny at the bar, nursing a drink and looking anywhere but at you.

Simon leaned down, mouth brushing your ear. "Don't worry about Soap," he said quietly, almost amused. "He knows better now."

And with that, Simon Riley—bouncer, enemy, now very clearly yours—led you through the crowd like he had every right to you.

And you had a feeling he was never letting you forget it.

[obsesssedblerd]

au where suguru doesn't defect but brings home nanako and mimiko one night after a wild mission, wanting nothing more than to make sure the small girls are fed, hydrated, and cozy in a warm bed after what they have faced. he arrives and stops in his tracks when he sees satoru, who just brought home little tsumiki and megumi, and you with tiny yuuta, who has been anxiously hiding behind you ever since you brought him home. you and your boyfriends just stare at each other, all thinking the same thing.

"wow," you say first to break the tension-filled silence, then start laughing. behind you, yuuta relaxes a bit, his shoulders slumping in what you're certain is relief. it's gonna be alright now. i'll be okay.

suguru shrugs with a sheepish smile. "well then." next to him, nanako and mimiko also smile. exhausted, but soft and genuine. no more danger. we're safe here.

"okay!" satoru grins as he claps his hands together. "we'll make things work for now, but it looks like we're going to need a bigger house, yeah?" one of his hands pats tsumiki's shoulder, and the other ruffles megumi's spiky hair. both of them exhale, allowing the tension to leave their bodies. he's a bit crazy, but he won't let anything happen to us. things are finally looking up.

three became eight that night. it's busy and chaotic most days, but you, satoru, and suguru wouldn't change a single thing.

[bjlipss]

— 10:33, laying on toji’s back .

toji’s passed out on the couch, shirtless and warm and deliciously sprawled out like he owns the place—which he does, sort of. one arm hanging off the side, the other tucked beneath the pillow he’s face-first into. a low, half-snore rumbles out of his chest every now and then, just enough to let you know he’s really out.

you watch him from the doorway, a soft smile tugging at your lips. there’s something about him when he’s like this—unguarded, vulnerable in the most subtle way. the world can’t get to him here, not when he’s tangled in worn-out blankets and afternoon sunlight.

so you cross the room quietly, crawling up onto the couch and climbing over him until you’re lying flat on his back. warm. heavy. safe.

“mmmf—what the hell,” he mumbles into the pillow, voice hoarse and half-awake. “you tryna suffocate me?”

“you’re cozy,” you murmur, cheek resting between his shoulder blades.

he lets out a long sigh. grumbles something that sounds like “clingy brat,” but his hand slides back to grab your thigh and give it a gentle squeeze. he doesn’t push you off. doesn’t even shift, really. just melts back into the cushions like your body was always meant to be draped over his.

you trail lazy little circles over the bare skin of his back. he’s all firm muscle and scar tissue, warm and broad beneath your touch. a living furnace. your lips find the dip of his spine and you kiss it, featherlight.

he goes very still.

“…you tryna be cute or something?” he asks, gruff but quiet.

“just wanna kiss you, toji.”

you press another kiss higher, then another. right between his shoulders. he exhales through his nose, and you swear you feel his body soften under yours like he’s letting go of tension he didn’t even know he was carrying.

“you’re lucky i’m too tired to throw you off,” he mutters.

you laugh into his skin. “you like it.”

“i don’t,” he lies. absolutely does.

your kisses keep coming, slow and tender. one right below the nape of his neck, then another over the scar you know he hates but you love. your fingers curl around the edge of his shoulder, and he finally, finally sighs like he’s giving in.

“…feels nice,” he admits, barely audible.

you nuzzle into his back, body completely relaxed. he reaches up behind him and awkwardly pats at your hip until he finds a spot to rest his hand. just… holds you there. like he needs the weight. the warmth.

“you’re not goin’ anywhere, right?” he mumbles, more sleep than voice.

“nope.”

“…good.”

and he’s out.

completely dead to the world with your body stretched over his, your lips still resting on the bare skin of his spine, his rough hand gripping your thigh like an anchor.

and when he wakes up later, with drool on his shoulder and you still on top of him, he groans and says something like “gross,” but he doesn’t move. he just shifts a little to make you more comfortable and closes his eyes again.