#diva!reader

[carrotlster]

random text messages between diva!reader and bf!rafe

warning. definitely suggestive 

[succian]

always scolding you

closeups below :>

[darkmatilda]

𝐆𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: teasing spencer leads him to attempt guessing the color of your underwear. and he (almost) gets it right.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐭𝐰: spencer reid x diva!chemist reader, bar, teasing, lots of underwear talk — do i even need to say more?? oh and reader’s wearing a dress. and *surprise* underwear

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 2.1k (+ a little treat/surprise at the end!)

𝐚/𝐧: forehead kisses for the anons who inspired this idea LOVE U

“Hiding by yourself at the bar at your best friend’s birthday party? You should be ashamed, Spencer Reid.”

The man didn’t turn his head toward you right away, and he didn’t seem particularly surprised that you were calling him out. Well, he was indeed sitting at the bar without any of your other friends nearby, slightly hunched, with an expression that suggested he wasn’t in the mood to party—but hadn’t wanted to disappoint Penelope, so he’d shown up.

 He had to know that his gloominess would soon draw you in.You took the most pleasure in teasing him when he was like this, which is why, the moment you caught his silhouette out of the corner of your eye, your legs practically carried you toward it on their own.

At the sight of you, he didn’t suddenly pull his shoulders back to look better, nor did he tilt his chin up with fake confidence. He only gave the slightest shrug—but you saw his gaze sweep deliberately over your body and outfit as you took a seat beside him, turning to face him directly.

Then his slow eye movement suddenly shot in another direction—he nodded toward something.

“As you can see, my best friend has more interesting things to do than play hide-and-seek with me,” he snorted, aiming the sarcastic edge at you and your earlier words rather than at Garcia.

You glanced in the direction he’d indicated, and your eyebrows twitched with interest at the sight of Penelope flirting with some man who was hunched forward to talk to her, trying to make up for the noticeable height difference.

“Our girl is busy hunting. Be patient with her,” you said in a scolding tone.

He caught your gaze, sending you a silent I’m being very patient—without even the faintest hint of a smile.But you weren’t interested in his moodiness just yet, and you ignored him for a moment, observing your friend’s seduction tactics—or rather, the man she was working them on.

“What do you think, profiler? Could there be something there?”

Spencer snorted.

“Exactly. Profiler. It’s usually part of my job to assess different things than whether my friend and some random guy are a match. Like, say…serial offenders.”

You grimaced at his condescending tone. Only then did the corner of his mouth twitch slightly, as if some internal smugness had just bubbled up.

“Imagine he is one of them,” you suggested.

“Then I wouldn’t be sitting here doing nothing. And I definitely wouldn’t be letting her talk to him,” he replied flatly.

You rolled your eyes with an exaggerated boring. Your irritation—entirely his fault—seemed to work like fuel for him. He fully turned to face you now, looking noticeably more energized.

“No, I don’t think anything could come of it,” he added. “Mostly because the guy’s married.”

Your skeptical look.

“Where does that certainty come from?”

“Profiler’s instinct. But seriously,” Spencer paused, resting one elbow on the counter and leaning slightly toward you to point something out with a tilt of his head. Before you followed his gaze, you took a moment to wonder whether he was wearing a different cologne than usual, or if you had simply forgotten what his regular one smelled like. Either way, it was pleasant. His eyes rested on your face for a second, as if to check whether he had your attention. He did.  “Look. Every now and then he moves his hand like he wants to reach for his wedding ring. A typical married man reflex. But he stops himself so he won’t give it away. Just like now.”

The guy indeed made a slight motion with his hand, which he then let fall along his side. With Reid’s comment so close to your ear, it felt like you were watching a National Geographic documentary — except the narrator had a sexier voice.

“Also, see that lighter skin on his finger?”

You narrowed your eyes.

“I see it,” you admitted after a moment. “He tanned around the ring.”

He nodded approvingly.

“You’re learning fast.”

You didn’t let him mock you.

“Can I call myself a profiler now?” you asked.

You could see her barely holding back a scoff.

“To get that far, you’d have to draw a few more conclusions. What you just said—anyone who had a Sherlock Holmes phase as a kid could’ve picked up on it. Or just someone a bit more observant. A real profiler would’ve added something else.”

You stared at him for a moment before rolling your eyes toward the ceiling in mock surrender.

“Fine. Go ahead, show off, profiler.”

You knew he was waiting for that. He didn’t even acknowledge your sarcastic tone—he jumped straight into his explanation.

“Look at his posture. He’s trying way too hard to seem relaxed. Classic behavior for someone who hasn’t flirted in a long time. Which means this is probably his first slip—or attempt, anyway. He had a fight with his wife, it’s recent. He stormed out of the house angry, ended up here, tried to blow off steam. But the more he talks to Penelope, the more his confidence shrinks. Guilt’s creeping in. He didn’t cheat, but he’s guilty of the thought, and that’s enough to wreck his game. He’s getting quieter. Penelope’s picking up on it. Any second now she’ll decide she’s not into this conversation and walk away…”

Reid clapped his hands, triumphant.

Right on cue, Penelope turned and walked away from the guy.

You hadn’t planned to react, but your lips parted and an incredulous snort escaped before you could stop it. You turned to Spencer with open disbelief.

“No way,” you shook your head. You didn’t care how much it was feeding his ego. You shook your head again, more firmly. “No way. I hate you guys. And by you guys, I mean the entire BAU. You look at some random dude and see all that? Is it like that with everyone? You look at me and what—can you guess the color of my underwear or something?”

He listened to your rant with a deceptively neutral expression. Deceptive, because he was trying to look stoic, like your words and the reaction they provoked weren’t flattering him—when in fact, they totally were. Deceptive, because they added just enough fuel to his confidence that, for a second, it took over, slipped past his usual restraint and came out in the form of a smug:

“I could try.”

You tilted your head to the side. Your gaze held no hesitation, no uncertainty, and definitely no shyness—oh no, absolutely not. Your gaze said you sure you know what you’re getting yourself into? Because in no possible universe could you imagine the Spencer Reid you knew speculating about your underwear. Taking it off? Sure. But talking about it with you?

His expression tightened just slightly, like he already regretted his decision. And honestly? He probably did. But he didn’t backpedal with a hasty swallow and awkward excuse. Neither did you. You simply crossed one leg over the other and fixed him with an expectant look. There was already a smug, taunting smile settling comfortably on your lips.

He met your eyes and held them for a beat before taking in a slow breath. That familiar expression began to slide into place—the one that meant full focus, analytical gears turning.

“Well…where to begin,” he mused out loud, his eyes scanning you as if the color of your underwear might be conveniently written across your forehead. Spoiler. It wasn’t. “You’re dressed in black.”

A beat of silence. Your scoff.

“Congrats on the observation.”

“Which means you didn’t have to worry about any color showing through,” he cut in, completely ignoring your jab. Not in a saving face kind of way—he genuinely seemed not to hear it, totally immersed in the challenge he’d foolishly given himself. “So you didn’t have to limit yourself to neutral tones, like beige, which you might pick if you were wearing something light. So I’m assuming you took advantage of that and went with something dark.”

His gaze finally rose from your dress, locking with yours again.

“Hot and cold?” he asked.

“Am I allowed to give you hints?”

He sighed.

You had to admit—it was a good starting point. And maybe it was that tiny bit of appreciation that made you roll your eyes a moment later and mutter, “Burning.”

His grateful nod. The slight twitch of his mouth. He cleared his throat again, forcing himself to continue.

“You could still be wearing beige or white, though. But your outfit today is unusually simple, even boring, for you—”

“Thank you,” you cut in sharply, with a hiss at the end.

“...and you like to stand out, even if it’s just for yourself, so I think it’s not too crazy to assume you went with something bolder. That’s also why I’m ruling out black. Oh, and definitely nothing lacy.”

That last part made you frown. It was said with such certainty you didn’t understand where it came from.

“Profiler instinct again, or do you actually have reasoning to back that up?” you asked.

If everything he’d said up until now was laced with playful speculation, this part landed with surprising confidence. He even shrugged, like it was obvious.

“A bold color and lace is more of a...statement. Usually chosen by women who want to feel a boost of confidence. Which you don’t need. But more importantly, I just don’t think you’d wear something like that just to spend the evening at a bar with someone like me. And someone who’s now using profiling techniques to guess the color of your underwear for… reasons nobody can quite explain.”

The period at the end of his sentence was sharp, but short. He didn’t let you respond, immediately pushing forward.

“And it’s not red.”

That one made you forget everything he’d said before. You hadn’t expected him to rule out red so early. After all, it was—

“It’s your favorite color,” Spencer continued. “You agreed to this whole thing because you knew I knew that, and you were hoping I’d guess it and be wrong. If you were wearing red, you wouldn’t have brought this up at all.”

You were starting to struggle to keep up with his logic. Spencer, on the other hand, was beginning to sound more and more like a brilliant scientist obsessing over his favorite phenomenon. You stayed silent now, genuinely curious what he’d say next.

 He wasn’t wrong. You weren’t wearing red underwear.

“So now I’m hesitating between two colors. Pink, dark pink, and navy blue. Both seem to fit, but I don’t know which one more, so I start considering the symbolism of the colors. Well, pink would be more sensual, even a little cheeky, worn under black clothing. But navy, on the other hand, symbolizes a certain seriousness, stability. Sophistication, even. In the end, I deeply doubt you were sitting by your underwear drawer wondering what your bra color symbolized,” a snort slipped out, but his cheeks began to turn a barely noticeable shade of red.

Well, one of you had to be wearing it that day. For the balance of the universe.

Spencer took another, though not his last, deep breath that evening with you. He took a moment before continuing.

You couldn’t say you weren’t waiting for it, not taking your eyes off him for a second.

“But in the end, I’m going with navy. Reasons are quite simple. First, profiler’s instinct. Second…in my…humble…opinion..you’d look better in blue. 

He finally forced the words out, and you just kept looking at him. In his humble opinion.

Time passed, and he still didn’t get confirmation. All the more, you somehow couldn’t bring yourself to give it to him. Eventually, stiffly and still without a word, you nodded. Once.

“You’re almost right, Doctor Reid.”

He frowned.

“Almost?”

You grabbed the hem of your dress on the side that matched the pair, lifting it just briefly to the right height. Just for his eyes. Your underwear was, in fact, navy.

But also the kind he’d almost ruled out right at the start—lace.

heyy fic’s over tysm for reading but there’s a tiny surprise/crack bit down below if u wanna check it out

:))) 

Penelope massaged her aching temples. Her head was literally splitting, not just from lack of sleep and the alcohol from the night before—in short, her birthday night out with friends. The pain was made worse by the countless screens surrounding her and what was on them. Case files, faces of murderers, often graphic photos.

Ugh. She needed to look at pictures of tiny fluffy kittens.

She scrolled through those little creatures for about five minutes, after which she felt slightly better. She didn’t have anything urgent to do anyway, so she opened Reddit. Just a place where people sometimes asked weird, often hilarious questions.

One of them immediately caught her attention. She clicked.

coworker guessed the color of my underwear and im going ABSOLUTELY FERAL?? 💀💀💀

okay so i’m female and there’s this guy i fw pretty well but he usually pisses me off but yesterday we were at this bar and i was kinda teasing him and told him to guess the color of my underwear and he analyzed me like fucking einstein and GUESSED???? and the worst part is it turned me on??? like somehow it was the most county thing i’ve ever seen and i’ve seen a lot + he literally had his shirt buttoned all the way up to his neck what is WRONG with me

Penelope burst out laughing and her fingers almost instinctively reached for the keyboard.

gurl you just like him! <3

[nanamiskentos]

Gojo Satoru in the Prison Realm ✶ S2E10: Pandemonium

[miedei]

terrible profilers

(aka the team meets early seasons!spence's not-so-secret girlfriend)

a/n: this came to me in my dream last night and i cannot get over it, pls send asks/requests and tell me what you thought! (look at '#mystery girl!au' on my blog to see more musings about them <3)

cw: USE OF Y/N IM SORRY reader has she/her pronouns, the team is nosy, reader is a phd student, my niche personal headcanons of how i think spencer would text, probably more tech inaccuracies

wc: 3.5k

part one | part three | mlist

(reblogs are the only way to promote fics on tumblr! please reblog if you enjoyed it :) )

The moment Spencer walks into the bullpen, he knows something’s up. Garcia never replied to the text he’d sent on Friday night, and he’d hoped she was just busy on their first weekend off in a while, but it’s clear there’s more. Clutching the strap of his satchel, he walks to his desk, observing the strange tension blanketing the room.

For one, Hotch and Gideon are in the bullpen, standing in the corner speaking in hushed tones. Weird. They usually go to one of their offices to talk, and either way, they usually are stuck in their offices until lunchtime when they don’t have cases.

Another thing. JJ and Penelope are standing around Elle’s desk, which isn’t out of the ordinary, but they’ve swivelled around to stare at Spencer like he’s an alien (which they do on occasion, but Spencer is pretty sure he hasn’t been strange yet. He just walked in!).

Derek is sitting on Elle’s desk, leaning over to huddle with the three girls, but he’s frozen with his mouth open, like he just shut up for some reason.

“Uh… Good morning.” Spencer furrows his brows, but tries to shrug it off, more interested in the smell of coffee emanating from the kitchenette. Setting down his bag, he quickly busies himself with pouring his signature overly-sweet (according to you) coffee.

It’s like his movements snap a thread that has been holding his colleagues together, and they suddenly start bustling around the bullpen again. Derek sidles up beside him as he’s stirring in sugar, and Spencer braces himself for some Morgan-esque prod. But what he says has Spencer confused.

“Kid. You know you can tell me anything, right?”

Ok, something is going on. Spencer has worked with Derek since he was 22, and they’ve fallen into a very comfortable dynamic ever since. But neither of them have ever felt the need to reassure the other of their closeness.

“What’s up, Morgan? No jabs today?”

Derek stiffens, like he’s been caught in a lie, and scrambles to reply.

“Well… We- Um, Garcia worried about you on Friday. What was up with you leaving so suddenly?”

Spencer has to bite back a smile, memories of you, coming to O’ Keefe’s just to see him, flooding into his mind. But he answers as smoothly as possible, still turned away from Derek as he elaborates.

“Oh, I felt a bit sick. It was probably the drinking and travelling back and forth from the more arid parts of the country that did it. Did you know, travelling between warmer and colder climates makes you more susceptible to contracting viruses because it strains your immune and musculoskeletal systems, causing the feedback loop of homeostasis to-” Derek puts a hand on his arm, and Spencer quiets.

“Okay, okay, pretty boy, I get it.”

With that, he walks off, and Spencer is left at the kitchenette, stirring his coffee, confused. It’s not like it was a lie, he was feeling nauseous in the bar, so you insisted that you go home. He recovered that same night over a cup of tea, Metropolis on the television, and you cuddled up on the couch next to him.

When he walks back to his desk, mug in hand, he calls out to JJ, still standing by Elle’s desk.

“JJ, no cases today? …JJ?” The blonde is looking at him, but his words seem to fly right over her head, until Elle pokes her shoulder.

“Oh! No, the cases I’m being called about are still pending, we’re probably not leaving on anything until tomorrow.” Spencer smiles softly, glad to have at least one more night sleeping at home this week. Because of his reverie, he doesn’t notice the way JJ, Penelope and Elle are staring at him, befuddled expressions on their faces.

The day continues to be a little weird, much to Spencer’s chagrin. Around 1pm, Gideon emerges from his office again. This, already, is out of the blue. Gideon only leaves his office an average of 3.78 times a day, mainly to go to Hotch’s office, or to go home. This time, however, Gideon marches to Spencer’s desk.

Gideon comes to a stop next to Spencer’s desk chair, and it’s all he can do to muster a blank face and look into his mentor’s eyes.

“Hey, Gideon. What’s… What’s going on?”

The older man sighs wearily, looking down his nose at Spencer, looking uncannily like Spencer’s highschool Calculus teacher when she got irritated at him for being a ‘13 year old know-it-all’.

“Spencer. You weren’t sick on Friday, were you?” What is happening? Spencer doesn’t lie, he’s never told Gideon something untrue, so this is incredibly out of the blue.

“Huh? No, what’s wrong? I felt nauseous, which could’ve technically been a symptom for an inner ear problem, inflammatory bowel disease, gastroenteritis…” Spencer continues to rattle off a list of things he could have had, not noticing the uncharacteristically soft, paternal gaze that Gideon has trained on him.

“...and even a brain tumour, but it was probably because I drank more than I usually do. Why do you think that’s not true?” Spencer finishes his little speech, looking up at Gideon with a confused expression. There’s nothing else the older man can do but sigh, patting his shoulder softly.

“Okay, Reid. Glad you’re feeling better now.” With that, the experienced profiler walks away, not bothering to reply to Spencer’s continued questioning:

“Gideon! What’s wrong? Why are you-” Gideon’s office door slams shut.

Unfortunately, Spencer cannot ignore the rest of the signs, spending the rest of the day in a state of coiled anxiety. Something is going on, but he can’t get anyone to tell him.

Derek and Elle are constantly glancing over at him, unreadable expressions on their faces. Penelope keeps finding excuses to go to Spencer’s desk, and even if Spencer wasn’t a profiler, he’d be able to see the words bubbling up in her throat, but she never says anything.

JJ doesn’t come talk to him at all, which is strange. Instead, she shoots him knowing looks whenever she’s in the bullpen, sending Spencer into a spiral every time she doesn’t say anything about why they’re all acting weird.

He’s even caught Hotch and Gideon peeking through the blinds over their office windows to look at Spencer, with the analytical looks they get when they’re observing a crime scene on their faces. It’s driving Spencer crazy, and he has to tell someone.

You’re leaving your desk when your phone buzzes.

SPENCE <3: Hi. I looked normal when I left the house, right?

Your brow furrows at the text. Normally Spencer isn’t a fan of texting while he’s at work, and you’d told him multiple times how handsome he looked when he left the apartment this morning. He’s wearing his striped white button down and the purple tie you bought him for his birthday last year, he looks pretty. And you made sure to tell him so.

YOU: hi <3

YOU: no spence you look pretty i told you this morning didnt i?

SPENCE <3: You did, thank you. Everyone’s acting weird at work, and I can’t think of what it could be.

YOU: maybe its something with a case?

SPENCE <3: They would tell me if it was that, right?

YOU: ur right

YOU: if you cant think of it with that big beautiful brain its probably something to do with them

There’s a solid minute of silence before he texts you back, and you grin to yourself as you walk through the halls. You can see the flush growing over his face in your mind’s eye, the way he does every time you pay him a cheesy compliment.

SPENCE <3: I guess so. They won’t tell me anything about it, which is strange.

You frown a little, imagining his frustration at being out of the loop. Spencer has expressed his love for his coworkers to you many times, but he’s also told you about his struggles feeling like the ‘baby’ of the office, and the way it makes him feel isolated at times. Racking your brain to think of a way to cheer him up, you check the time on your watch (the twin of which is settled on Spencer’s wrist).

YOU: its nearly 6

YOU: if i leave my building now i can make it to your office in 30mins

YOU: i can pick you up and we could get thai for dinner

YOU: ?

The reply is instantaneous, and you smile, looking forward to seeing him earlier than you’d expected today.

SPENCE <3: That sounds great. I’m finishing up here but text me when you’re in the lobby and I’ll come down.

SPENCE <3: I need to go, I’ve been texting you from the bathroom.

SPENCE <3: See you soon :-)

The last half hour of Spencer’s workday flies by, unlike the way the clock had crawled previously. He finishes up the consults he was working on for the day, and begins packing up the moment the clock hits 18:27.

Derek and Elle are still sneaking glances at him, but Spencer couldn’t care less at this point. As he closes the flap of his satchel, his phone buzzes in his breast pocket. He can’t help but whip out his phone immediately, missing the bewildered looks that pass between his fellow profilers as he smiles down at the screen.

Y/N L/N: in the lobby now!

Y/N L/N: i forgot how fancy it is here i feel underdressed

He doesn’t bother replying, instead opting to leave the bullpen through the glass doors, nodding at Derek and Elle, and pressing the elevator button immediately. He’s so engrossed in his thoughts as he stares at the closed doors, that he realises far too late what’s happening behind him.

He can hear the sounds of shuffling feet, a squeak of surprise (Penelope), hissed insult (Elle to Derek), and a firm clearing of a throat (Hotch). After sighing rather petulantly, Spencer turns on his heels to find the entire BAU team standing there, faces just as confusing as they’ve been all day.

“I’d ask you what’s wrong, but none of you gave me an answer the last 23 times I asked, so.”

There’s a beat of silence, before Hotch, of all people, says, “Reid, we need to… ask you something. About last Friday.” That’s strange. Spencer cocks his head in confusion.

“What about it? I already told Morgan and Gideon, I was feeling sick, but it turns out it was just that I’d just drank more than I was used to.”

Penelope looks like she’s about to burst, and finally, she blurts it out, voice slightly shrill. “Reid! Who is she?”

“Who is who?”

Derek butts in, a hand on Penelope’s shoulder. “Kid, that girl. The girl you were… close to, on Friday. At the bar?” Oh. That’s what they’re talking about?

“That was Y/N. My girlfriend. Are you mad I didn’t introduce you guys? I thought you were all busy.”

Spencer sees six sets of jaws drop. There’s more silence, before JJ croaks out, “Girlfriend?”

It’s a bit of a sight, to be honest. Penelope has clutched on to Derek, and Derek on to Elle. JJ looks gobsmacked, eyes bulging out of their sockets. Even Hotch and Gideon look the most shocked Spencer has ever seen them. But why?

“Uh, yeah. She came to see me because we’d had plans before we decided to go out. Then when she found out I felt sick we went home.”

Gideon looks a little green, and when no one makes a sound, Hotch speaks, his normally stoic voice coming out a little shaky. “Reid, we didn't- We didn’t know you were seeing anybody.”

What? Now they’re being even weirder. Spencer can hear the elevator doors open behind him, but he doesn’t bother. This is something he has to get to the bottom of.

“How did you not know? I’m sure I’ve mentioned having plans with her multiple times. Elle, I told you about the time I went to the movies in New York with her, when we were on that case.” Elle looks more shocked, if that’s possible, but doesn’t say a word.

“Garcia, I asked you to help me find florists that have Gibraltar campions in Vegas that one time.” Penelope jolts, muttering under her breath about ‘idiot geniuses and their mothers’.

“Gideon, I asked you for advice on how to ask her out!” Gideon stiffens, remembering the time Spencer had asked him about his ex-wife. Was that Spencer asking for advice?

“I ran into you, JJ and Morgan, when I was with her, don’t you remember? She was in the aisle over” Derek distinctly remembers a time at the bookstore, they’d seen Spencer, but not noticed anyone with him. JJ shamefully recalls being too busy making fun of Spencer’s heart-studded tie to look around.

Spencer looks bewildered, eyes bouncing between the different members of his team.

“Hotch, I literally told you about her! When I added her to my emergency contacts?” At this, Hotch pales. A year ago, Spencer had come to him with a request to change his 1st emergency contact from his mother to a Y/N L/N. How he never registered that this was a girlfriend, Hotch would never know, but he stares fixedly at his shoes as he contemplates quitting his job as a profiler.

Spencer looks at them, mystified. How did they not know? It’s not like he was ever hiding you! Of course, Spencer wanted to keep you to himself, so he didn’t talk about you that much, but they were profilers. He assumed they’d known, and just didn't want to embarrass him.

His phone buzzes three times, and he pulls it out to see more texts from you.

Y/N L/N: spence are you coming

Y/N L/N: a guy in a suit is eyeing me weird

Y/N L/N: he knows i dont belong come save me

A happy sigh leaves him, before he remembers the people standing in front of him, still gobsmacked. He scrubs a hand down his face wearily, and mutters slowly, as if he’s not sure if he wants to do this.

“She’s downstairs right now, we were going to take the metro home together. Do you… Do you guys want to meet her?” Penelope brightens up, and the rest of the team seem in higher spirits, despite their continued disappointment in themselves. Warily, Spencer opens the elevator door with a press of a button, and they all file in obediently.

“Please don’t be weird.”

“My good doctor, I would never!” He eyes Garcia with a fearful expression, but presses the ground floor button anyway. As the doors close, a strangled shout leaves JJ’s mouth.

“Wait, you live together?”

You are sitting on a bench inside the lobby of the FBI Headquarters. No matter how many times you drop Spencer off or pick him up, this will always be surreal to you. And, right now, it’s not just surreal, it’s a little scary.

A real Danny Ocean type guy is sitting on a bench across the room, talking on the phone and eyeing you. Clearly, you don’t exactly look like an agent, you know that. Dressed in the uniform of a PhD student, jeans and an oversized Doctor Who t-shirt (Spencer’s), you know that you look out of place.

You’re just hoping Spencer walks out of the elevator before you get escorted out on suspicions that you’re a spy or something.

Like some deity has heard your words, you look up at the ding of the elevator to see Spencer… and a whole gaggle of people behind him, slapping at his shoulders and barraging him with questions. He looks harried, a line between his pretty eyes.

The line disappears, though, when he locks eyes with you. His eyes light up, and his steps grow in length, before he's left his entourage behind, at least for a couple of seconds.

He uses this time to explain to you: “Hi, hello, I'm so glad you're here and I need to tell you something-” As if on instinct, your hands come up to rest on his upper arms, thumbs moving in circles soothingly as he continues to ramble, only catching the tail end of his sentence.

“-and well, they didn't know about you somehow? Which is crazy to me because you know I don't hide you so I don't know where they got that from but either way they were acting crazy, so I suggested they come meet you, and…” The group of people you now recognize to be the BAU have caught up to him, eyes darting between your face and Spencer's. His shoulders slump, and the agitated look returns, if a little less intense.

“Well, here they are.” He motions to the group behind him. “These are my coworkers, Jennifer Jareau, Elle Greenaway, Penelope Garcia, Aaron Hotchner, Jason Gideon, and Derek Morgan. Guys, this is my girlfriend, Y/N.”

Rising on your toes to see over his shoulder, you wave with a smile, eyes zeroing in on Penelope Garcia, who looks like she's vibrating from excitement, shouldering past Spencer to hold both of your hands.

“Hi! It's so good to meet you! I'd say I've heard a lot about you, but you know that's a lie, we didn't realize you existed until 10 minutes ago, but oh my god! You're here! You're so pretty- Spencer, she's so pretty!” She's practically bouncing up and down, causing Spencer to laugh sheepishly.

“Yeah, Garcia, I know that.” The next few minutes are a barrage of introductions and handshakes, all so brief that you can only get quick first impressions of them all.

Penelope is incredibly kind, not letting go of your hands until Spencer pries her off of you, telling you that you have to come out on girl's night with us, exactly like Spencer described her.

Elle is nearly intimidatingly cool, giving you a handshake and a smile, mentioning that she likes your eyeliner.

Aaron (Hotch? You're not sure how to refer to him) is nowhere near as stoic and intimidating as Spencer makes him out to be, breaking into a smile as he introduces himself, and grinning even wider when you congratulate him and his wife on their newborn child.

JJ is the sweetest. You've heard a lot about Spencer's best friend, and she lives up to expectations, squeezing you into a chaste hug with warm words.

Gideon is a little terrifying. He gives you a handshake, quirking the side of his lips in what you assume to be a smile, but saying very little beyond an introduction. You know how highly Spencer thinks of him, and hope he will warm up to you (Spencer is over the moon that he smiled, and informs you later that Gideon loved you).

Derek is exactly how you expected him to be. Somehow, he makes you feel wholly comfortable after a single comment, and promises to regale you with all the Spencer stories you'd want (you see him punch Spencer in the arm, grinning and saying he approved).

Spencer pulls you away from them as quick as he can, citing your dinner plans as an excuse. He slings an arm around your waist, leading you out the door as you wave over your shoulder.

“It was great to meet you guys! We should go out to dinner or something!” You hear mixed shouts of agreement from behind you, before the doors shut and it's just you and Spencer, on the sidewalk outside the building.

It's butterfly-inducing, the way you can see the tension leave his shoulders when he turns to look down at you, brown eyes shining.

“I'm sorry that was so last-minute, I know they can be… a lot.” You giggle at the weariness in his tone, resting your forearms on his shoulders.

“They were really nice, Spence. I'm glad to finally meet them. They didn't know who I was?” He sighs, hands tightening slightly on your waist.

“I don't know what goes on with them half the time. I've told them things about you so many times, but they were just being dense, I suppose. They saw us on Friday, at O’ Keefe’s, and they had no idea I was seeing someone!” He bends to rest his forehead in the crook of your neck with a sigh. As if on instinct, your hands come up to play with his hair.

“I guess they would have found it a little strange that you acted like nothing had changed, huh? Is that why they were being weird today?” He grumbles unintelligible words into your skin, before raising his head to look at you.

“I guess… You know I wasn't hiding you, right? I really thought they knew about you,” The earnestness on his face makes you want to implode, his thumbs rubbing minutely on your waist. Speaking would pop the bubble you've found yourselves in, so you find the best next option for you to show him your assertion.

Your hands roam up his neck to cup either side of his jaw, and slow, slow, slowly, you rise to your toes and kiss him.

Suddenly, Spencer's not worried anymore.

[nmakii]

nagi never understood what reo meant whenever he called him his treasure. he was good at soccer, that’s why he was a gem to reo, right? it was just a nickname.

he never really got it. until he met you.

when he met you, he finally thought like something was worth getting out of bed for; worth all the effort. if it was to see your face at school— even just for a second— nagi would get out of bed at 6 AM and get to school early.

and when he’d finally see you at school, talking to one of your friends, he’d get all pouty. he’d be inconsolable until you finally give him the attention he worked so hard for. he wouldn’t call it jealousy or possessiveness, per se… it was just… greed.

he wanted to spend every minute of every day with you— listening to your voice, playing games with you, cuddling in bed, he wanted all of it.

nothing has ever made his heart race so much. it was honestly annoying. how could someone make him so happy just by smiling in his direction?

he wants to get rid of the annoying roar of his heartbeat in his chest. just the sight of you made his stomach curl in on itself. but at the same time, he felt so happy for what seems to be one of the only times in 17 years.

now, he finally understood what reo meant by a treasure; someone you wanted to keep for yourself to cherish and take care of. you were his treasure; his reason to finally get out of bed in the morning.

how he’d just wish you would feel the same way too. having to confess is just a hassle. and, he’d rather die than get rejected by you.

[wordpress-blaze-241425893]

Midjourney Video

With the release of video (silent) on Midjourney, I just can't stop trying to generate images to animate! It's exceptionally easy, but some formats work better than others. Tutorial.

https://videopress.com/v/lSu3UXal?resizeToParent=true&cover=true&loop=true&playsinline=true&preloadContent=metadata&useAverageColor=true

https://videopress.com/v/ATrZHeC9?resizeToParent=true&cover=true&loop=true&playsinline=true&preloadContent=metadata&useAverageColor=true

https://videopress.com/v/HM4jFd1H?resizeToParent=true&cover=true&loop=true&playsinline=true&preloadContent=metadata&useAverageColor=true

https://videopress.com/v/44IogZpY?resizeToParent=true&cover=true&loop=true&playsinline=true&preloadContent=metadata&useAverageColor=true

Source: Midjourney Video

[sixxels]

diva

nerd!gojo loves his absolute diva of a girlfriend.

there were a lot of things satoru gojo didn’t understand.

why his professor insisted on giving 7 a.m. lectures when good sleep was scientifically proven to improve cognitive function. why the wifi crashed every time he needed to upload his lab reports. why textbooks cost more than his monthly rent.

but the one thing he understood better than anything? he was in love with his girlfriend. dramatic, high-maintenance, lip gloss shining at 8am, the whole thing was tiring sometimes, sure. but you were his lifeline, his escape.

and what surprised him the most was how much he loved the little, mundane stuff. the small rituals. the shared routines that stitched your days together.

he liked meeting you outside your psych class, where you'd always emerged with a dramatic sigh like the lecture had emotionally wounded you. “he used brain rot memes on the slides, satoru. i can’t keep doing this.” you'd say that, every time, and he’d laugh like it was the first time you'd ever said it.

he especially liked your aesthetic, full-on mcbling throwback fantasy. pink velour, rhinestoned phone cases, bedazzled hair clips, juicy sweats like it was 2004 and you were the star of your own teen drama. you looked like a fever dream from a y2k music video, and he was obsessed. the lip gloss, the glitter, the low-rise jeans with butterfly charms. it all should’ve been too much. but on you? it was perfect.

“you look like a bratz doll,” he told you once, eyes wide like he couldn’t believe you were real. “and i’d die for every version of you.”

you just blew him a kiss and said, “good. you’re supposed to.”

he liked when the two of you grabbed coffee between classes. you ordered like you were reciting a poem—iced vanilla oat milk latte, one pump caramel, light ice, no cold foam. he never even looked at the menu anymore. you'd sip yours and hum in approval while he nursed a plain black coffee like the boring nerd he was. you always wrinkled your nose at it. “you drink that voluntarily? for what? character development?”

he liked when you studied in the library together. you never lasted more than twenty minutes without complaining. “why is econ just… numbers pretending to have feelings? such a drag.” you'd whine, head resting dramatically on his shoulder, perfume hitting him like a truck. he pretended to be annoyed, but secretly, he loved when you did that—like he was her safe little island in a sea of boring lectures and broken printers.

he liked how you always dragged him around like a personal pet. pulling him into stores as you judged products you knew you were never going to buy. “should i get this ‘girlboss’ notebook?” you asked once. “cant tell if it's empowering or a hate crime.” he still didn’t know what that meant, but you looked cute holding it.

he liked the late-night walks after study sessions. you always wore those fuzzy slippers that weren’t meant for outdoors, but insisted they were “serving.” the two of you would walk under the string lights strung across the quad, your perfectly managed hand in his, talking about nothing and everything—professors the both of you hated, dumb memes, the little thoughts you had. "y'know toru, having a hot nerd like you on my arm makes me look 100 times more cunty."

and he especially liked when you'd pull him into empty stairwells just to kiss him, pulling him down to your height and shoving your tongue down his throat as you teasingly grinded your hips against his crotch in a passionate exchange. your lip gloss sticking to his mouth like a brand. “to keep you focused,” she’d tease, before strutting off like she hadn’t just short-circuited his entire brain, he was now faced with a problem in his pants.

it wasn’t just the big gestures or grand declarations that made him love you. it was the daily stuff—the little, ordinary routines that you made feel magical, chaotic, and unmistakably yours.

he didn’t need roses or fireworks.

he had oat milk lattes, sarcastic one-liners, stolen kisses between classes, and you.

and that was more than enough.

m.list !!

[suiana]

imagine yandere! diva who is a complete drama queen...

"hey."

"oh, just hey? no good morning? no babe? you don't love me anymore, is that it? i see how it is 😒"

he knows that you guys may or may not have been together for just a week or two but you should be more devoted to him! like, he's devoted! maybe you should do your part too.

"baby do you like the shrine i made for you? ☺️"

"wtf is this vro 💀"

have i mentioned that he gets super sassy too? this man could kill you with how sassy he is. yeah so what if he's younger than you? so what if in his culture he should respect you because you're older? who cares! he wants attention and he will get it!

"wake up NOW."

"wat u want bruh"

"scratch my head ☺️ NOW."

yeah this younger diva may be the bane of your existence but he also really loves you a whole lot. i mean, that's basically his whole reason for existing, to love you. he was born just to love you💜 so NEVER fear because he will never let you cry💜

[princesssarahblog]

𝐣𝐣 𝐦𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝

SFW and NSFW

warnin: there may be a mention alcohol, weed, adventure, sex (first sex too) and romance

author notes: I am writing for the first time smut.. I want to write something like this with many more characters obx, next one might be rafe (idk)

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ SFW

get ready for this naughty blonde diva to come to your house almost every day, at first you thought he just had nothing to do but over time you realized that your house is a new refuge for him, where he can relax and be away from his tyrant father

he is quite clingy to you (only you) jj will hug you almost constantly or especially kiss you. if you both have to be separated, he will grab you by the waist with his strong muscular arm and pull you in for a gentle passionate kiss. before the relationship, he would touch you often and try to touch you subtly to feel your skin.

we all know that jj is also a bit of a wild guy, and he might make bold and spontaneous decisions and you constantly dissuade him from his "brilliant ideas" and advise him to think logically together. but it would be better for you to make a decision yourself, and jj would help you implement it

lets you braid and style his hair when his head is on your lap or stomach, you’ll do little tiny braids or buns all over his head and he’ll love the giggles it brings out of you.

I think he's one of those guys who will sing some stupid songs he made up on the fly if you get offended by him. you start laughing at those moments, and you just shut him up, saying you forgave him, just so you doesn't have to listen anymore.

he's the kind of boyfriend who would go to great lengths to make you happy and will always be there for you when you need him. just be ready for a lot of playful banter and sarcastic remarks, this is just another display of affection from jj

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ NSFW

lots of quick rounds, this blond guy is constantly horny and needs sex urgently. he often gets horny at the wrong time and can take you away right in the middle of a conversation with friends without embarrassment

he likes it when you just turn into a puddle and can't say anything

he drives you crazy in bed, jj is just unrelenting. he needs to fill you with his cum at least 3 times. and he also loves when you hold on to his chest. he basically likes your touching his chest

you both remember your first time having sex very well. it was at your place, you were sweating and your pussy was on jj's thigh when you first saw his dick. and the guy often reminds you of it, teasing you and making you embarrassed

actually he comes to your house not only to hide from the world but also to have a good night with you. you are always afraid if your parents find out about it, your father often checks on you at night and once you almost got caught but everything worked out

will stimulate your sweet spot very strongly using your fingers, mouth and tongue. jj pulls you back in by your ankles when you try to squirm away from him, whining that you're too sensitive, you can't take anymore. it's too much

even during the solstice festival he somehow ended up having sex with you. he found you in the great hall after he escaped from rafe and you locked you in the closet. he showered you with kisses and told you how beautiful you were in the dress you wore for the festival. it was only because of you that rafe lost him and after that you and your group of friends left. and jj got to enjoy you and his favorite sweet spot.

asks you to sit on his face so he can eat your pussy!

jj intertwines your fingers together while you're riding his face cause he like that, murmuring how much he loves you, how perfect you are, how you're such a good girl for him. he also loves to squeeze your breasts and nipples in this position and naturally drive you crazy

- jj is the kind of person that will be hard to just start dating. In order to date him, you need to gain his complete trust in you. he is very protective and devoted, but all this can also quickly disappear. even if you date him, you will date him for a maximum of a week and blonde guy will dump you and you will be another girl for his own entertainment

[divadepreshawn]

𝑨𝒍𝒊𝒆𝒏 𝑺𝒖𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓

Aaron Hotchner × fem!reader ×popstar

part two, …

reader is a very famous singer WC: 1 439

You were running, your heart racing, your lungs begging for a little more air – all you could offer now were quick breaths as your brain panicked. The screams echoing behind you made it hard for you to think straight, were they fans or paparazzi? It doesn't matter when you have to decide between running to your death or hiding.

All you wanted for that afternoon was coffee and a chocolate cake, you thought you could do it alone – how naive.

With nowhere to go you crossed the street without looking – getting run over didn't seem like such a bad option now – and entered the first store you saw. Looking around quickly your eyes landed on a man in the children's section – he was tall, wearing an impeccable suit, his expression was serious, but he was in the children's section so it couldn't be that bad. Without thinking twice you ran across the store until you stopped in front of him.

“Please, I need help.” You stood between him and the clothes rack, your eyes slightly wide and your breathing labored.

“What? Who is-?”

“Please, just stay still.” You grab him by the shoulders, positioning him so that his silhouette completely covers yours.

He opens his mouth to protest but quickly closes it as he analyzes you. You are panting, your hair disheveled, your hands shaking slightly and your body is tense. You really needed help. He stays in the position you put him in and doesn’t move a muscle.

The screams start to get quieter, your body relaxes and you release the breath you didn’t even know you had been holding.

“Thank you, you saved my life.”

He doesn’t answer right away, keeping his posture firm over you.

“Does this happen often?” he asked, keeping his voice low so as not to attract the attention of anyone in the store.

You let out a laugh, looking over his shoulder to see the store window, the street seemed calmer now.

“All the time, but it’s usually more controlled, I’ve never had to turn strangers into human shields” you pulled away, now looking at him properly for the first time, and damn, he’s handsome.

“You should walk around with some security, it doesn’t seem very safe to me to walk around alone.”

“I know, I have one, but I thought I could buy a damn coffee by myself.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly not approving of the idea.

“Doesn’t seem like a very smart plan to me”

“Oh, you swear Sherlock?”

He raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth curling up slightly.

“Was that supposed to be an insult?”

“Okay, you helped me and I’m being an idiot.”

You didn’t mean to be rude to him, you were just frustrated that you couldn’t do something as simple as buying an afternoon coffee without the place filling up with people.

Don’t project your frustration onto him, you think.

“Excuse me, what’s your name?”

He seemed to be considering whether it was worth sharing this information with you. You couldn’t judge, if the situation were the other way around you probably would have run away already.

“My name is Aaron.”

He’s crazy enough, apparently.

Aaron just stood there staring at you as if silently asking, what about you?

“Excuse me, don’t you know me?” you asked, genuinely confused.

“Should I?” he asked, his brow slightly furrowed.

You opened your mouth in surprise. What was natural for you – people knowing you, knowing your name, sometimes even what you had for breakfast – meant nothing to him. It was almost surreal.

“You really don’t know me?”

“No,” he crossed his arms, “But you don’t seem upset, so I don’t see the problem.”

“Are you kidding?” you laughed, “That’s refreshing.”

It wasn’t that you didn’t like being famous, on the contrary, you loved it. It took years of sacrifice to get where you are, training and training until exhaustion. But it’s times like these, when you try to do something simple – like buying a coffee by yourself – and you can’t, that fame shows its price.

“Really?”

He looked as confused as before, and as if it were possible, more handsome than he had been two seconds ago. Your gaze quickly dropped to his hand, he wasn’t wearing a wedding ring. Would the universe be so kind to that extent?

What did you have to lose? You already had the no, now the only way was to go after the humiliation.

“Although it’s sad when a handsome man doesn’t recognize me.”

He blinked in surprise, his mouth opening and closing as if he didn’t know how to respond to that.

“Excuse me?”

“I’m kidding.” You reassure him, suppressing a smile. “I interrupted your shopping, I’m sorry about that.”

“No need to apologize, I still don’t know what I came to buy anyway.”

“You..don’t know?” you asked amused, he doesn’t seem like the type of person who just goes out to browse the stores.

He hesitates, his gaze shifting between you and the clothes on the rack.

“It’s okay, you just met me, you don’t need to tell me.”

“How much do you know about children?” The hesitation is still palpable in his voice.

“Um..I’m the older sister and I used to be a babysitter, so I guess that’s enough.” You answer confused, trying to remember “Why?”

“I need a gift for my son to take to a party, but I have no idea what to get him,” he confesses, sounding frustrated.

This man just got a thousand times more handsome. Okay, focus.

“How old is he going to be?” You ask, already scanning the clothes around you.

“Seven.”

“Okay, let’s pick out some neutral clothes. Do you mind if I keep this on?” You point to the hoodie and sunglasses.

“No, it’s okay, I don’t want to attract a horde of zombies.”

“Are you trying to badmouth my beloved fans?” You feign an offended expression. They can be scary when they want to be, but you won’t admit it out loud.

“Me? Never. Although I wasn’t the one running away from them a few minutes ago.”

You cross your arms, feigning indignation, but the amused gleam in your eyes gives you away.

“Are you a career management expert now? Next time I’ll let forty people run after you and we’ll see what your first reaction will be.”

“Touché,” he laughs, raising his hands in surrender.

You grab your phone, remembering to tell your security guard where you are and asking him to come pick you up in twenty minutes.

“What do you work with?” You look away from your phone and look at him.

“What?”

He looks at you with a look that says, seriously?

“You’re famous, right? So what do you do?”

“Oh yeah, I’m a singer,” you reply with a smile.

“Have you ever won a Grammy?” He asks, his tone not arrogant, but curious.

“Honestly, I think the legacy that remains counts more, but yes, i have Grammy' s.”

“Grammy' s? Like, more than one?”

You smile at him.

“You really have no idea who I am, do you?” You let out a dramatic sigh. “I already thought you were handsome, you don’t need to convince me.”

He stops laughing, looking disconcerted.

God can’t blame a woman for trying.

“I think this outfit here is nice.”

You change the subject quickly, not that you didn’t want to blatantly hit on him for the rest of the day – something you could easily do – but he seemed so disconcerted by your advances that you didn’t want to be inconvenient.

“Yeah, this one looks nice.” He picks up the outfit, examining it.

Chris – your security guard – enters the store looking for you. Man, I need to give him a raise, you thought.

Quickly looking over the counter, grabbing your store card and a pen, you write down your personal number and hand it to Aaron.

“You saved me today, if you need someone to pay your bail, I’ll be that guy. Of course, it will depend on the reason you were arrested, I still have my ethics.” You smile “If you want tickets to a show I think it’s easier to get, thanks anyway.”

He takes the card and puts it in the inside pocket of his suit.

“I don’t plan on getting arrested, but I appreciate the offer.”

Halfway there you turn to him again.

“Aaron?”

“Yes?”

“I’m serious, text me, I’d love to meet you again.”

You head back to Chris, leaving a stunned Aaron behind.

No one can say you didn’t try.

And God, for the next few days you and your phone would be one body.

◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇

English is not my first language are sorry for any mistake

This will probably become a mini series

If you have any ideas to contribute to the sequel I will be happy to receive them :)

[carrotlster]

those pretty eyes

summary. rafe can’t help himself and ruins your fresh new set.

pairing. bf!rafe cameron x diva!reader 

warning. smut, 18+ mdni, oral ( m receiving )

rafe drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, his blue eyes locked on the glass door of the salon. his truck idled in the parking lot, the low hum of the engine the only sound besides the distant crash of waves from the beach down the road.

 he leaned back in his seat, exhaling slowly as he watched you step outside tucking your phone into your bag. your hair bouncing with each step. his gaze trailed over your face, immediately noticing the difference— your freshly done set framed your eyes like something from a dream.

 you pulled open the door, sliding into the passenger seat with a familiar ease. "hi baby" you greeted softly, leaning in just enough for him to catch the scent of vanilla and something distinctly you.

 rafe barely reacted. "they look good." his voice was low, but there was something in his tone-something unreadable.

 you pulled back, brow furrowing slightly.

"thanks." you buckled your seatbelt, expecting him to start driving, but he didn't.

 a slow smirk tugged at his lips as he let his eyes trace every inch of your face, adjusting in his seat with his usual cocky demeanour.

his jaw was tight, his lips parted and arms crossed like he wanted to say something but couldn't quite find the words.

 “what, rafe?” you pull the visor down, opening the mirror, inspecting your lashes before turning back towards him. they were still intact so what was he staring at?

 he didn't answer right away. instead, he reached out, fingers brushing under your chin, tilting your face toward the light filtering through the windshield. his thumb grazed the soft skin beneath your eye, his gaze flicking between your lashes and your lips like he was debating something.

 "you just..." he exhaled, shaking his head slightly. "you look so pretty."

 “i know” you spoke.

 he didn’t respond, his gaze dropping lower, taking in every inch of you like he was memorizing it. he could feel the rush of heat spreading through him as he admired the way your lashes framed your face, how the slight glow of the makeup you wore enhanced the natural beauty you already had. it made him want you.

 the way he looked at you with intensity, like he was seeing you for the first time— sent a shiver down your spine.

 his hand moved instinctively, rough fingers brushing against your jaw before trailing down to your neck. his thumb grazed your throat, and you swallowed, the movement subtle but not unnoticed by him.

 his fingers tightened slightly, his grip sending a slow, burning warmth through your skin. you leaned into it, into him.

 your lips parted, but before words can come out rafe was already leaning in, his lips brushing against yours. the kiss was rough and when you opened your mouth to him, he deepened it, pulling you closer. he could feel the way your body reacted to him, the way you were melting into him, but it only made him want you more.

 his teeth grazed your bottom lip before he bit down, not too hard, just enough to make your breath hitch. he pulled away slightly, lips barely touching yours. still close, he exhaled slowly, his voice low and rough.

 “i’m so hard right now”

 “rafe” you chuckled.

 he runs his tongue over his bottom lip, still tasting you.

 “be good for me.”

 your brows lifted slightly, a smile pulling at your lips. “you can’t wait?” you asked, looking around the parking lot.

 rafe leaned back in his seat. he tilted his head, his smirk lazy, but his eyes still burning into yours. “as a thank you for paying,” he said smoothly, his hand dragging down your thigh, thumb pressing into the soft skin.

 you let out a breathy laugh, shaking your head. “you offered, asshole.” the words were teasing, but the way you were looking at him? that was something else entirely.

 rafe just chuckled, spreading his legs a little wider, adjusting his pants. watching you intently as you unbuckle your seatbelt and lean over the consol.

 “you gonna show me how grateful you-”

 his words cut off with a hiss as your hand slid over him, palming him through his jeans. his jaw clenched, eyes flickering shut for just a second before snapping back to yours, darker now.

 a slow breath left him, his fingers squeezing the back of your clothed thigh. "fuck,"

 you only smirked, tilting your head like you weren’t doing anything out of the ordinary.

"what was that?" you teased, pressing your palm a little harder, feeling the way he strained in his jeans.

 rafe’s hand shot out, grabbing your wrist— not to stop you, but just to make you slow down.

his eyes bore into yours, daring you to keep playing.

 “you think this is funny?” he muttered, his control slipping.

 you shook his hand off, grabbing the zipper from his jeans and pulling it down excruciatingly slow. you look up at him pulling at the waist band of his boxer briefs before reaching your hand inside and grasping him.

 rafe’s breath hitched the moment your hand gripped him, his whole body going rigid for a split second. his eyes shut for a second as he fought to keep his composure.

 you pull him out, your eyes momentarily leaves his to look down at his cock, his slit glistening with precum. your right hand remains wrapped around the base of his length while a manicured finger spread the precum around his tip.

 you flatten your tongue licking from his shaft to his tip, coating your tongue with his precum causing his stomach tighten at the sensation.

 rafe’s hand moves up your thigh, past your ass and to the waist band of your leggings before pulling them down mid thighs. his hand retracts back before landing a hard smack on your left cheek causing you to whimper. you couldn’t help the feeling of your cunt fluttering.

 “stop teasing” he groans, rubbing the spot in circles as if to soothe it.

 you wrap your lips around him, swirling your tongue around his swollen head. he throws his head back with a sigh, his hands threading your hair and gathering it into a make shift ponytail.

 rafe unintentionally bucks his hips up as you begin to bob up and down, hungrily working causing you to gag around him. your hand makes its way to his thigh, stilling him.

 “look at me” he pulls your hair, tilting your head up. you pull back, saliva strings connected from your mouth and his cock. tears kissing your waterline and chin shinny with drool. he lets out a low groan as your dark eyes meet his again.

 “those pretty eyes”

 you let out a moan at the praise. you pressed his cock against your lips, spitting and letting it slide down his length. your hands slowly moved up and down his shaft before you took him back into your mouth.

 his hand grips the back of your head and pushes it down forcing you down your throat. the feeling him twitching in the back of your throat has you squeezing around nothing.

 “shit, you make me feel so good”

 you tapped his thigh repeatedly, struggling to breath. the tears that formed in your eyes now falling. he pulls you back allowing you to catch your breath. you cough, spit pooling around the base of his cock.

 you part your lips to speak but a rough thrust into your open mouth, shuts you up immediately. you cup his balls with your hand and massage them, causing his breathing to hitch. rafe’s moaning now louder than before.

 “fuck— i’m gonna cum”

 he doubles over, pulling out of your mouth, roughly grabbing your chin and stroking his cock covered in spit in his fist causing it to twitch and his balls to tighten as he releases thick ropes of his cum on your face.

 your eyes flutter open, sitting up on your knees. your eyes widening the second you took in your reflection. his cum coated your brand new lashes, your now swollen lips, your tear stained cheeks and even made it in your hair. you let out a sharp breath, glaring at rafe through the mirror before snapping it shut.

 “you fucking asshole” she hissed, landing a smack against his chest.

 rafe barely flinched, catching your wrist with ease, his grip firm but not rough. he held your hand there, pressed against his chest, feeling the way your pulse raced under his fingers. a slow, satisfied smirk tugged at his lips. his eyes, filled with amusement, flickered over your face, taking in every detail— your narrowed eyes, your pout, the way you were still breathing heavily.

 before you could get another word out, his fingers wrapped around your neck again, pulling you in as his lips crashed against your. his kiss was rough, demanding, like he wanted to remind you exactly who was in control.

 "shut up," he muttered against her lips, voice low, rough.

 you barely had time to respond before he pulled back, his thumb brushing over your cheek, picking up some of the evidence of what just happened. then, without a second thought, he pushed his thumb between your lips, watching with sharp eyes as your mouth instinctively parted for him.

 "i'll pay to get them done again," he murmured, his voice dripping with amusement as he watched her, thumb pressing against her tongue.

 “now quit whining.”

 carrotlster  ©

[tribalmajesty05]

Title: The Kiss Hunt

Roman Reigns x Reader

****

It was an unspoken rule by now—before every match, Roman needed his kiss.

No one knew exactly when it started, but somewhere along the way, it became part of his routine. Just like taping his wrists or putting on his vest, he wouldn’t step through that curtain without it. If you were nearby, it was easy—he’d find you, pull you in by the waist, steal a kiss, and head off to dominate in the ring.

But sometimes, you weren’t so easy to find.

Which meant he had to go on the hunt.

Tonight was one of those nights.

“Where is she?” Roman grumbled, already growing impatient as he stormed through the backstage halls.

Jimmy and Jey, sitting on a crate nearby, exchanged looks before Jey smirked. “Damn, Uce. You that desperate for your good luck kiss?”

Roman shot him a look. “You got a problem with it?”

Jimmy raised his hands in defense. “Nope, just funny watching the big uce go on a scavenger hunt for his woman.”

“Shut up,” Roman muttered, moving past them.

Jey laughed. “Whipped.”

Roman ignored them.

He checked catering.

Nothing.

The women’s locker room?

Naomi leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, amused as hell. “She left a few minutes ago. You really out here chasing her down, huh?”

“Where’d she go?” he asked, exasperated.

“Somewhere near the production area, I think.”

Roman groaned. He was already supposed to be at Gorilla in five minutes, but he was not stepping out there without that damn kiss.

Meanwhile, you were completely oblivious to the search party forming for you. You had stopped by the production area to chat with Bayley and Rhea when suddenly—

“There you are.”

You barely had time to turn before Roman was right in front of you, hands gripping your waist as he pulled you in.

You blinked. “Uh… hey?”

“I got a match,” he muttered, like that explained everything.

And for him, it did.

A knowing smile spread across your lips. “And what do you need before your match?”

He arched a brow. “You know.”

Bayley, standing off to the side, smirked. “God, you two are disgustingly cute.”

Rhea snorted. “Nah, this is next-level. My man’s been hunting you down like a bloodhound.”

Roman ignored them completely, his focus solely on you. “C’mon, baby. Don’t make me beg.”

Your heart flipped at the way his voice dropped, but you couldn’t resist teasing him just a little. “Beg? Now that I’d like to see.”

He huffed. “I swear to God—”

Before he could say another word, you leaned up and pressed a kiss to his lips. He instantly melted into it, his grip tightening on your waist like he didn’t want to let go.

The moment should have been sweet, romantic even—if it weren’t for the round of cheers that suddenly erupted around you.

“WOOOO! GET IT, TRIBAL CHIEF!”

You pulled back to see The Usos, Solo, Seth, and even Dean standing there, all of them grinning like they just walked in on a damn rom-com.

Seth cackled. “Man, he really couldn’t go out there without it, huh?”

Dean smirked. “You got this man acting like an addict.”

Jey nudged Jimmy. “I told you, Uce. Whipped.”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, shut up, all of you.”

Roman, however, was completely unbothered. He smirked down at you, tilting his head slightly. “Don’t act like you don’t love it.”

You sighed dramatically. “I tolerate it.”

He chuckled, then leaned in to whisper, “That’s not what you were saying last night.”

Your face heated instantly.

The guys lost it.

“OH, HELL NO—”

“TOO MUCH INFO, MAN—”

“DAMN, UCE—”

Bayley covered her ears. “I did not need to hear that!”

Rhea just nodded in approval. “Respect.”

Meanwhile, Roman smirked in victory, pressing one last kiss to your cheek before finally backing away. “Alright, I’m good now.”

Jey threw his hands up. “Oh, now you good?”

Jimmy shook his head. “Man, if y’all ever break up, we’re done for.”

You crossed your arms. “Not happening.”

Roman smirked. “Damn right.”

And with that, he walked off toward Gorilla, leaving everyone behind to recover from the overwhelming amount of PDA.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Dean shook his head with a grin. “Man, y’all are something else.”

You just shrugged, smiling to yourself. Because honestly?

You wouldn’t change a thing.

[princesssmars]

i musttt have tribbing with vi

and i must talk about tribbing with vi! nsfw.

when it comes to sex, you were pleasantly surprised to find out vi prefers your time together to be intimate, prolonged, and sweet. she'll shower you in praise and press sweet giggly kisses into your skin as she slowly brings you to a blissful crescendo.

except for the rare instances where she has a workday gone bad, the heavy thud of her gauntlets hitting the floor the only warning you get before she downright pounces on you and drags you to the bed, the couch, sometimes the floor-

you dont try to use words to get through to her when she's like this, knowing she'll talk about whatever is bothering her once she's successfully gotten her energy out. you help her take off both of your clothes, fabric flying as she pushes you down and presses a quick series of bites and nips down your torso until her mouth attaches to your center, quickly bringing you to orgasm as she claws and bites at your thighs.

she won't even give you a minute to catch your breath, strong hands instantly pushing your legs up and apart as she sets herself over you, leg resting over her shoulder as she grinds her cunt into yours.

the pleasure is intense, rendering you incapacitated as she moves your body to her will and uses you to get herself off. you press a quivering hand to her abdomen in a feeble attempt to gain some control when she's growling and pressing your hand into your stomach, breathlessly laughing when it draws a mewl from deep inside of your chest.

when your eyes focus after going damn near uncrossed you focus on her, hot pink hair dropping from her insane hairstyle and hanging down in her flushed face. her eyes are hazy as she stares at where the two of you meet, downright in a trance as she watches your pussy become wetter and nosier and so damn pretty.

and she can tell when you start to get close, because of course she can, and you can tell she's right there on the edge with you when she's biting at the skin of your ankle and rolling her hips even faster, mumbles of "'s so good, feels so good" and "cum for me, please, wanna feel it-" sending you over with a shout and deep arch of your back, barely registering how vi folds you near in half and bites a groan into your neck, hips slowing until her tired body is near dead weight in your arms.

"so, you wanna talk about it now?" you breathe, softly running your hands through her hair as she nuzzles into your neck and tries to bring her body impossibly closer to yours.

"mmm. let me just... rest for a minute. then go again with you folded like this."

and as you feel her hands smooth over the skin of your hips, you realize that with her, the exhaustion is worth it.

[darkmatilda]

𝐜𝐨𝐠𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: spencer genuinely can't believe that you're being kind to him. and you—well, you weren’t ashamed to admit that seeing him with the child had just a little melted your heart.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐭𝐰: spencer reid x diva!chemist reader, a very fleeting mention of the babysitter kidnapper, but other than that, the fluffiest shit ive ever written (don't get used to it) (love them so much shshaha its unhealthy) (spencer performing MAGIC TRICK!)

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 2.3k

𝐚/𝐧: requested by lovely @ihatethecrowdsyouknowthat love you so much you have no idea

The yellow Ford Falcon XB was reaching its record speed, slicing through the racetrack like a released arrow, emitting that signature mechanical growl and drawing dozens of captivated gazes.

At least, that’s how it looked through the eyes of a six-year-old.

Through Spencer’s eyes, it was just a toy car being pushed across the wooden surface of the table by a small hand.

The boy’s brown hair nearly touched his shoulders, and he wore a blue soccer jersey with a number on the back. His gaze wasn’t curiously darting around the office where they were alone—it was fixed solely on his favorite toy.

Reid watched him in silence for a moment, letting him play in peace before starting the conversation he, unfortunately, had to initiate.

For some time now, they had been working on a case involving the abduction of babysitters—each disappearing while on the job, vanishing after leaving the house with the children they were watching. Whether heading to the park, the playground, or a store, that was the only variable. The rest of the details were so methodical, so patterned, that there was no doubt they were dealing with a serial offender.

"Liam," he began, drawing the boy’s green eyes to him.

Spencer didn’t feel comfortable in this role. He never considered himself particularly gifted when it came to interacting with children—which was strange, considering everyone around him seemed to think otherwise. Especially since the arrival of his godson, Henry, had given him more opportunities for it.

"My name is Spencer, and…I’d like to talk to you for a moment."

He paused. The boy's face took on an odd expression; he didn’t respond, just looked at him with a certain shyness. Spencer hesitated, opening his mouth only to close it again.

All the previous babysitters had been taken the moment they looked away, leaving the children alone. From a child’s perspective, it must have been confusing. One moment, their beloved babysitter was with them, and the next, uniformed officers arrived, whisking them away to a place where more strange adults asked them strange but gentle questions.

For example, if they saw anything strange.

Strange? The children never really understood what that meant. After all, they had just been playing at the park like they did every afternoon. What could possibly be strange about that?

Spencer sighed. He didn’t want to bombard the boy with questions that would, at best, earn him a nod or a shake of the head. If he wanted answers—testimony (though the word felt absurd when referring to a six-year-old)—he’d have to take a different approach. He needed Liam to open up naturally. Even if it took a little longer.

"Is that a Falcon XB?" he asked, deliberately exaggerating his interest as he nodded toward the toy car teetering at the edge of the table. He moved around to take a seat beside the boy, slouching slightly. It always seemed easier to talk to kids when they were at the same eye level. "Can I see it?"

Liam stared at him for a moment before nodding.

Spencer carefully picked up the toy. His hesitation wasn’t just about earning the boy’s trust—though that was important. No, the real reason for his reluctance was the fact that, just five minutes ago, he had watched Liam absentmindedly shove the car into his mouth, biting down on its yellow surface.

"It’s really cool. Is it your favorite?" he asked, trying to push aside the thought of bacteria. The countless, countless bacteria.

There are an estimated 700 different species living in the human mouth…

Liam nodded again.

Focus, Reid. Cars, not bacteria.

"Did you know the original Falcon XB had an engine that let it reach over 220 kilometers per hour? It was so popular in Australia that the police used it for high-speed chases."

The boy studied him in silence for a moment, but Spencer could tell he had his attention.

“So…it’s a police car? Why doesn’t it have a siren?”

“The ones used by the police did," Spencer explained. "They also had lights on the roof so they could chase criminals. You know, yours might not have them because…”—he lowered his voice—“…it’s actually a secret police car.”

Liam frowned, clearly not following. “A secret police car?”

Spencer nodded.

“Used for undercover missions,” he continued. The boy’s full attention was locked onto him now—he must’ve hit on something that really fascinated him. “By secret agents, so they wouldn’t be noticed. And when they really need to…”

He glanced at Liam out of the corner of his eye, making sure the boy was still watching him closely. Once he was sure he had him hooked, Spencer clasped his hands together, concealing the Hot Wheels car between them. He held them still for a moment, letting the anticipation build.

Then, finally, he pulled them apart—revealing nothing but empty palms.

“…it disappears.”

  The boy’s mouth fell open in amazement, gasping. Spencer couldn’t help but smile at the sight, even though, to him, it was nothing impressive. He had done this trick hundreds of times—it was so simple. And yet, there was something oddly satisfying about watching the boy’s reaction, seeing how intently he studied Spencer’s hands, completely baffled by the disappearance of his toy.

Then suddenly, in the middle of it all, Spencer felt someone watching him.

He shifted his gaze toward the doorway, toward the figure standing in the threshold—the sight of whom caused his smile to falter. Not out of displeasure, but more out of surprise. And it wasn’t just her presence that caught him off guard. Lately, they had been running into each other in the most unexpected situations, to the point where he was starting to get used to it. What he wasn’t used to was the expression on her face.

By now, he had memorized the looks she most often wore around him—irritation, sarcasm, playful exasperation. But the way her head tilted slightly to the side, the faint curve at the corner of her lips, and the softness in her eyes didn’t fit into any of those categories. 

 Spencer felt his shoulders tense. He wasn’t sure if he had always been this paranoid or if it was a newly acquired trait—maybe one tied specifically to her—but a sense of unease settled over him. Before standing up to approach her and find out what she wanted, he cleared his throat and turned back to Liam one last time. He placed his hand behind the boy’s ear, pulling out the toy car as if it had been hidden there all along.

“I’ll be back in a moment, alright?” he informed him.

The boy didn’t even look at him, completely engrossed in examining the car from every angle, as if truly believing it could vanish on command. Spencer found himself smiling again. But that expression faded entirely when he stepped closer to the woman leaning against the doorframe. She shifted slightly backward into the hallway—probably to keep their conversation out of the child’s earshot.

“You know,” she started before he could say anything, raising her eyebrows slightly.

She lifted something in her hand—something Spencer hadn’t even noticed before, too focused on analyzing the look on her face. That suspicious look on her face. It was a plastic box of crayons.

“When JJ ran into me in the hallway, shoving this into my hands and begging me to find Spence and give it to him, I was a little confused. But now I get it.”

She nodded toward the boy.

Spencer instinctively followed her gaze, mirroring its path. At the same time, she shoved the box of crayons into his hands. Caught off guard, he had to grip it tightly to keep from dropping it. She then crossed her arms over her chest.

He glanced at her face once more and suddenly sighed, finally realizing what this meant.

“Oh, well, let me guess,” he began, rolling his eyes upward. “Because you had to deliver this to me, you now expect something in return. And you won’t tell me what, you’ll just keep me in suspense for the next few weeks, casually reminding me that I owe you, until eventually, you demand something absolutely ridiculous.”

He spoke with confidence, convinced of his theory. But as a prolonged silence settled between them, he started to doubt it. Especially when she averted her gaze for a moment.

Someone might think she was crafting a particularly sharp retort—he himself considered it for a second—until he realized she never needed time to think of a comeback. When talking to him, they rolled off her tongue at machine-gun speed.

Another brief glance toward the boy.

"This is about the case with the kidnapped babysitters, isn’t it?" she asked, completely ignoring his entire speech. "I heard something about it. The kid—he's okay?"

Spencer didn't hide his surprise at the question. It took him a moment to realize that it was completely natural in this situation—almost anyone would have asked it. Maybe it was just the rare trace of concern in her voice that caught him off guard.

“Um… yeah…yeah, he's okay,” he stammered, his tongue suddenly twisting over the words. He had no idea why. He shook his head slightly, trying to clear the strange fog in his brain.

“I mean, I was just about to talk to him, but I’m pretty sure he didn’t see anything. Same as in the previous cases. This unsub doesn’t…doesn’t hurt kids.” Suddenly, he became aware of the weight of the crayons in his hands, remembering them again. He added, “And, uh, thanks for this. When we work with kids, we often give them paper and crayons. Sometimes it’s easier for them to draw something than to say it out loud.”

She let out a sound—a hum—suggesting that she understood.

He caught himself mentally keeping track of time. They were probably breaking a record for how long they had gone without arguing. Or at least without one of them slipping in a tiny jab at the other.

He was experiencing so-called cognitive dissonance.

“So, they stuck you with babysitting duty today?” she asked. Before he could respond, she let out a quiet snort. “Well, no surprise there.”

“What do you mean?” Spencer frowned. “By the way, this isn’t a common thing. I’m not particularly good with kids. Usually, they assign someone else for this, like—”

“I’m not particularly good with kids,” she repeated, her voice laced with mockery.

Oh. So they were back to their usual dynamic.

“Congratulations. You heard me correctly.”

“I know I did,” she shot back, sharper this time. “I just don’t agree. I watched you two for a moment. You are good with kids. Didn’t you see how excited he was when you did that trick?”

“He was just surprised. I made his toy disappear.”

“Which doesn’t change the fact that he’s a kid whose babysitter was just…” She mouthed the word kidnapped, only her lips forming the shape of it. “Something he might not fully grasp, but still—he was taken to a completely unfamiliar place, away from his parents. And instead of being terrified, he’s calm, even fascinated by what you showed him. So, like I said, you are good with kids.”

Spencer listened to her explanation, an odd feeling creeping over him. A kind of uncertainty, like she couldn’t possibly be talking about him. He almost wanted to turn around, check if someone was standing behind him, if the words were meant for someone else. But he didn’t—because, strangely, even moving felt difficult at that moment.

“Anyway,” she murmured suddenly, breaking the prolonged silence between them. “I’ve got to go. And don’t worry, you don’t owe me anything this time. I’ll let you off the hook—just this once.”

Before she left, she focused on his face one last time. That strange expression was still there—the same one from the beginning of their conversation, the one that had thrown him into cognitive dissonance. That strange expression that, maybe, was… something kind?

He returned to Liam, so lost in thought that he hadn’t even noticed the boy watching him for quite some time. He gave a small nod, pulling himself back to reality, back to the case at hand.

“She’s your friend?” Liam asked, his gaze drifting to where the woman had just been standing.

Spencer set the box of crayons down on the table, within the boy’s reach. He considered the question for a moment. He decided, however, that a six-year-old didn’t need the complicated details of their relationship.

“Yes.”

A brief silence followed his—well, lie.

“Really pretty.”

Laughter gathered in his chest. It was, in its own way, charming—the infatuation hidden in his shy words.

"Yes," he nodded gently. "I mean, she knows that” 

"Because you told her?"

He hesitated at those words, genuinely unsure of what to say. Fortunately, the boy wasn’t waiting for an answer. For a moment, his green eyes locked onto the toy car still sitting on the table, then back to Spencer, full of silent request.

"Can you teach me that trick?"

*

"Okay, buddy. Don’t stress. You’ve got this. Good luck."

Spencer patted the boy on the back. Liam gave a small nod, as if gathering courage, then hesitantly made his way toward the woman.

At the sight of a child suddenly at her feet, her eyebrows lifted high. She crouched down, asking him something in a soft voice.

Liam held out both fists, the yellow toy barely fitting in one of them. It was obvious where it was hidden, yet the woman pretended to consider her choice carefully before pointing at one hand.

Proud of himself, he revealed both empty palms—then pulled the toy car from behind her ear.

Her lips stretched into a wide smile, exaggerated in surprise. Then, she sought out his gaze, holding it for a lingering moment—just long enough for Spencer to realize he was smiling too.

[trusweethrt]

— ୨ৎ diva!reader◝ ୨ৎ

✶ diva!reader emits high value energy and has every guy in kildare wrapped around her finger... and of course she knows it. she's your typical kook princess with her refined palate, prim and proper persona, and bratty attitude. she's always going to get what she wants whether it's a boy, the newest designer bag, or vip access into the hottest club on the island; and she'll stop at nothing to get it. despite her bratty and stuck up personality, she's probably the sweetest, smartest, and most fun girl you'll meet— just don't get on her bad side.

✶ diva smells like... bulgarian rose, amber, vanilla, heliotrope, and jasmine. her go to perfumes consist of tom ford vanilla sex, burberry goddess, and chanel allure sensuelle.

✶ diva's staples... bedazzled belts, juicy couture tracksuits, baby tees, silk headbands, victoria's secret lingerie, full beat makeup, knee high stiletto boots, medium length acrylics, nude pink glitter eye shadow, big hoops, wispy lashes, bangle bracelets, and denim ultra mini skirts

✶ she'll be in your thoughts when you see... digital camera photos, siren eyes, lipstick marks, designer heels, shimmery highlighter, almond shaped nails, dirty jokes, flight tickets, and cat eye frames.

diva's insta posts

how diva!reader fixed rafe's wardrobe

‎ ‎‎© anqelrafe

[sinister-sincerely]

'Ello Friends and welcome to another one-shot this time in the Idol AU created by @soupdweller and @divinit3a (Thank you both for letting me write for this AU it was so fun and I am honored)

Rated T :: Daycare Attendant (Five Nights at Freddy's)/Reader 5.1k Words CLICK HERE FOR AO3 LINK You just needed a job. Sun needed a new Project Obsession Assistant! ☻

A last-minute temp agency assignment lands you at FazCO Entertainment, home to the rising Robotic Idol stars! Now you get to meet Sun, the sweet, spotlight-hungry Lolita Idol... seemingly harmless enough at first, until his smile lingers a bit too long and his words cut a little too deep...

You really should have stuck to the cleaning gig.

Too late now, and Sun doesn't like being ì̷̥̈̇ǵ̴̢͚͚͉̩n̶̡̜̖̩̗͂̈́͗̈́͠ǭ̶̠̻r̶̥͝e̷͈͉̭̎d̸̗̬͚̲̘̑̈́̌. ☹