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redcherrykook · 16 days

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── ‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ romance novel - biker!rich!JK x bookworm!reader request

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content: esth. relationship, book shopping date, fluff, bike rides with Jk, smut freaky ngl (she reads a smut scene, he recreates it for her meanwhile), fingering, tits play, clit play, kinda cum play, slight begging, praise

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"Ooh look at this one bunny!"

jungkook giggles, patting your flowy hair onces again, his arm moves to wrap around your shoulders

He had heard this sentence about a thousand times now, never getting tired of it

"Hmm.. interesting"

How could he? Seeing your eyes glimmer and light up upon viewing the pretty covers, the little hums and gasps you let out, flipping the book around to read the synopsis

"I think this is the last one" your fingers tap the cover, putting it inside the full basket your boyfriend is carrying with his other arm

He smiles, rubbing your cheek with his thumb, "sure? We have time sweetheart, take it" nodding his chin up to gesture to the fantasy asile,

For the past two weeks, all he's seen you read is fantasy

Wheather it be acotar or the cruel prince series, the countless stories of fae, dragons and heir's float around on the pages, register in your brain and flow out as retelings for Jungkook to listen to

He'd be listening to twenty minute voice messages of your charged rambles, finding it absolutely adorable how worked up you get over fictional storylines

Ever since passing your bar exam, he had promised to take you book shopping, promised to buy you whatever books you wanted

"But- there's already so much in here, its so expensive kook" you pout, squeezing his arm while roaming over the fantasy section with your eyes,

"I can pay for it baby. You know money is the least of my worry, come on, i want to treat my smart girl" his sweet but stern tone of voice is enough to make you fold, kissing his cheek and happily walking towards the huge shelves,

"Cute" he mutters under his breath, following closely behind you

A few special editions of pre owened books and a whole new series in addition later, the total came out to what would be a month's rent for you, and a little nick for your boyfriends bank account

"Give me that sweetheart, I'll store it" his gloved hands wrap around the heavy, large totebags, two of them filled to the brink

Knowing that was gonna be the outcome, his attached storage comparted was handy, presecured on the black harley davidson.

"All done" he says, locking it after managing to stuff the bags inside

You give him a thumbs up, already having pulled your pink- hello kitty themed helmet over your head, comically contrasting the rest of your outfit

He had gotten you that helmet as well, back when he first acquired his license and could start taking you with him on his rides

"My place?" his head turns a bit over his shoulder, revving the engine

You nod, arms sneaking around his firm torso and locking your hands tightly

He takes off, driving the way back to his nice suburban apartment, the wind speeding with your sides, blowing a refreshing breeze

"Whatcha reading honeybun?" After watching you read the past 45 minutes, your boyfriend spent his gaming and making popcon, peacefully watching you doze off into a world he wasn't a part of

he can't take it anymore, the smell of your sweet floral scent clouding his room, the little groans you let out will flipping through the pages, it's too much to soley bear witness to

So he teases you, nudging your side with his elbow

You giggle in return, squeezing his round cheeks while he keeps munching on the snack set on the bedside table

"Fantasy, bunny. Just about some fae wars again" you reply in a low hum, scanning over the words on the paper

With a dramatic sigh, his head rests on your lap to catch your attention, his pretty, dark brown locks falling over to the side, framing the sharp contures of his jaw beautifully

You take a second to stroke his face, appreciating the eyebrow piercing he had gotten recently, as well as the small metal ring on his bottom lip. Your favorite feature, his brown doe eyes, contently shutting

His sweet bunny smile slowly spreads on the honey toned face of his,

"Attention please, i need your attention baby" he says, turning his head sideways to kiss the inside of your hand

"Hmm.. but it's so interesting right now kook. Five minutes okay?" the butterflies in your stomach roar at his actions, however, the intense rivalry in the book is enough to keep your eyes locked back on the words

Suddendly, a tatted hand rips away the book, written ink disappearing from your eyesight and into your boyfriends golden hands

"more interesting than me huh? Let's see what my little princess reads about"

he's sat upright now, scanning over the page you last left off, nodding, seemingly satisfied before flipping through the pages

Your eyes widen at that, well aware of the dirty secret this innocent fantasy book witholds,

Explicit scenes are thickly spread between the plot of what looks to be a regular story

Panicking, you climb into his lap, reaching to take the book off him when you notice his smirk softly spreading, clearly having stumbled on something he shouldn't have seen

His arm extends upward, making sure you won't be able to get the book off of him,

With a almost predatory gaze, his cocky smile also looks down to you, licking over the corner of his lip, grazing the small metal decoration

"That's what's keeping my girl from spending time with me hm?"

he chuckles lowly, stroking over your thighs with his free hand

"Kook stoppp!" you whine, still propped up on your knees and on his lap, both arms up and fumbling to get the book back down,

Your cheeks have been covered in a pink hue and with the way your chest bounces at your desperate attempts, jungkook simply can't help it

He pushes you down on his bed, taking your wrists with one of his hands and pinning them together above your head

The atmosphere shifts, clearly asserting the dominance to him as he hovers over you like you're his prey, completely helpless at his mercy

You let out a soft moan when his eyes find your again,

"Listen to me sweetheart. We're gonna spend some time together now. Since you so badly wanna read, read it out for me. Tell me what you dream 'bout yea?"

Your eyes widen and for a split second, he sees the look on your face turn from excitment to worry,

Immediately he lets go of your wrists, wrapping both his arms around your figure, his lips ghosting over the skin of your neck

" m'sorry baby, I didn't sound so nice there did i? You can always say no. I'm not judging you sweetheart, i promise" sweetly, the air shifts again into something more comfortable, soft pads of your fingers colliding with the strands of his hair,

"Thank you kook.. i think it would be fun.." you admit, the need in your voice becoming almost too much to withstand, he lets you know how much he wants you by sucking on the skin of your neck, kissing his way back up to your jaw

Once satisfied, he reaches for the almost abandoned book, handing it to you with a kiss to your forhead

"Go on sweetheart"

You swallow, quietly reading the first lines aloud to him,

"he pushes the thin fabric of her flimsy top upwards to reveal her swollen chest, caged in his favorite colored bra. Mercilessly, they get groped at by his eager hands, hungry for a taste of her skin on his"

Jungkook's hands move exactly like you had told him to, pushing your comfortable sweater upwards and groping the soft swell of your breast in his large plams, groaning softly when he brushes over your nipples,

Relishing the touch of your skin, he can't help but nudge the bra down a bit, getting a better feel of you

He loves watching your face twist slightly in pleasure, he loves hearing your breathy little whimpers

"keep going baby, you feel so good" he encourages, drawing meaningless patterns on your stomach and it sends waves of pleasure straight to your core

You take a small breath, trying your best to focus on the instructions in front of you

"..without waiting another second, his hands tug down her bottoms, leaving her in just her panties. Effortlessly, he brushes against her clit, rubbing the fabric to it before pulling the thong to the side to admire the wetness he created"

your moans increasingly become louder, feeling the pad of his thumb press small cricles into your covered clit before pushing to fingers under the string, letting the cold air hit your pussy

Jungkook takes a second to lick his lips and sigh, enamored with the sight of your glistening cunt, the bulge in his pants is starting to strain painfully

"He keeps his eyes on hers, monotering the way they roll back when he slides two digits into her hole, twisting them so his thumb still presses into the needy bud, begging for stimulation"

That's it, that's what makes you shudder, letting the book fall off to the side, your knees buckling and hands gripping at Jungkook's firm shoulders

He smiles, brushing his lips over yours,

His long digits feel so good inside you, he doesn't move them yet, only moving his thumb softly, rubbing it up and down on your clit,

"That good?" he asks, licking over your bottom lip slowly

A whine of approval leaves your lips as you crash them on his, engulfing him in a deep, passionate kiss that makes him moan into it

The attempt at making him start pleasuring you doesn't work, still only letting them sit inside your warmth,

"You know what i want sweetheart" he mutters, slolwy sliding his tongue inside your mouth before withdrawing, met with your little whimpers once more

"come on, be a good girl, beg for me baby"

"Please kook" you whine, one hand now sliding down from his shoulder to his thigh, turning your fingers inward on the muscle,

He hums, directing his kisses back to your neck, licking over the skin delicately

"You can do better pretty, i know you can"

Another frustrated whine leaves your lips,

"Please kook, please fuck me with your fingers, please bunny make me cream on them. Please, i need it"

"Good girl, so good for me" he praises, giving you no room to breath or build up- almost brutally fast in the way he fucks his fingers into you, sucking on the softness of your neck

His thumb hits your clit with every push, harder, faster, each time

You're whimpering, moaning messily and trying to hold on to every little thing you can grasp with sweaty, trembling hands

He meets your moans, groaning, finding your lips and kissing you with such need and intensity, you want him, want him even while having him

"kook gonna cum" you whimper into his mouth, clenching around the slender fingers that create quelching noises when fucking into your cunt, the friction of his thumb making it impossible to hold on any longer

"That's so good baby, my sweet girl, come for me" his kisses focus on the side of your jaw, tongue darting out while slowing down the pace, he had felt you shake and release on him, that deep moan you let out being enough to know you came undone

You're panting, weakly laying slumped forward against him. Ecstacy rushing rough your body, his fingers still burried deep, while his other hand accompanies the sweet kisses on your head, threaded through your silky strands

"Awh... so cute, look at that" the sound of his deep and affectionate words catch you off guard, looking down to where his eyes are focused on

He draws his fingers out, taking a string of your arousal with him before directing them back to your sensitivity

Your grip on his tightens once more , whining out the sound of his name

"Mhh.. i know, i know sweetheart" he coos, his fingers working to spread your cum all over your folds and rubbing it into your clit,

With a quick kiss to your lips, he tells you to open

"Here.. good girl" he mumbles, watching your eyes fall and your lips wrap around his fingers, pushed into the warmth of your mouth

You moan when tasting your own arousal on him, tongue twirling between his fingers to lapp up every drop

He takes them out when he's satisfied, tangling his hands into your hair

"Wanna take a bath pretty?" you nod, giggling when he starts placing little kisses all over your face, wrapping his arms around you as he hoists you up, getting ready to run you a well deserved bath

"Thank you kook" you tell him, cupping his face into your hands, he squeezes the flesh of your bare ass in return, kissing the tip of your nose with a small laugh

"I promised to make your dreams come true. Unfortunately i don't have a Dragon. Not yet at least, if you wanna fuck one, you know where to look for something in that size"

You kick his butt with your heel, rolling your eyes at his middle school joke,

"You're ridiculous", he sets you down on the bathroom counter, running the water and filling it with bubble solution,

"You love me" he says, taking his shirt off,

Biting your lip softly, you reach for his defined figure,

"I do. I love you"

his hands with your waist under the sweater, pulling you closer into him,

"I love you too sweetheart"

#redcherrykook #jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x reader #bts fanfic #bts jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook x you

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certifiedlovergirlsstuff · 4 months

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kisses over handshakes | s.r. x fem!reader

“who’s the new guy?”

jj turned to you before looking in the direction your eyes were focused on. standing outside hotch’s office was derek accompanied by a mystery guy, well he looked more like a boy. tall and lanky with a short haircut that was starting to grow past his ears and curl to his skin. he was wearing a short sleeved button up that looked a size or two bigger on him, practically swallowing him in the fabric, and he paired dark brown stacks for his office attire.

“that’s spencer reid. gideon helped bring him into the unit when he brought him in as an apprentice, also he’s a genius. graduated high school at twelve, has three phds, a 187 iq and can read fast and remember well. own our human internet.” jj listed off his qualifications for the job at- “how old is he?” “only twenty three.” boy genius indeed.

you followed behind jj as she walked towards the two, “hello boys. spencer i wanted to introduce you to y/n, she’s my assistant.” skirting you closer into his directions, teeth biting into your bottom lip from slight nerves.

“hi it’s a pleasure to meet you,” sticking out a waiting hand. spencer looked to your hand then directly into your eyes as he said, “the number of pathogens passed between a handshake is staggering it’s actually safer to kiss.” and you could tell he was completely serious.

so you shrugged, “okay,” and leaned in to peck his cheek. you saw how derek smiled widely as he shook his head, “told you someone would be bold enough to do it.” reaching out to flick at your shoulder, you swatted his hand away with a frown.

eyes back to spencer, his cheeks turned flushed and his mouth was opening and closing, eyes slightly bugged. “sorry, that was unprofessional of me.” apologizing for overstepping, not wanting him to hate you already.

“no- no it’s alright. just the first to do so, caught off guard.” he smiled nervously, lips quirked. “i- i wouldn’t mind if you- if you kept doing so.” rolling his lips once the sentence settled over the four of you, you smiled back at him.

“looks like you got an admirer, pretty girl.” derek pipped in snapping you from your staring contest with spencer’s profile. you just rolled your eyes to the older man, “guess i know how you feel now, playboy.”

jj pulled you along, “alright, well we have some cases to look over and i’m sure you two have paperwork to fill out, so we’ll see you later.”

“bye pretty ladies,” derek bid you goodbye. you waved at spencer over your shoulder and he held his hand up in reply. you chuckled quietly at his awkward nature.

“by the end of the year, i’m gonna date him.” sounding confident in your statement. you turned to jj and she furrowed her clean brows, “why not sooner?”

“cause i want him to ask me and i know it’s gonna be awhile, but im in it for the long game with boy genius. he’s a special one.”

#erin writes #spencer reid #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x liaison!reader #early seasons spencer reid #season 1 spencer reid #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fic

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vanessagillings · 6 months

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I’m posting the ever-so-rare photo of myself alongside one of my characters based on my childhood because today is World Autism Acceptance Day, and I wanted to show my little corner of the internet who this particular autistic person is:

I was officially diagnosed in February, at age 38 (I’m now 39). A lot of people thought I couldn’t be autistic. Some people who know me in real life still don’t. And until around 10 years ago, I didn’t think I could be either, because I was nothing like the stereotype media portrays. I was told that autistics lacked empathy (untrue), and never played make-believe (also often untrue) and only enjoyed STEM. I was — and am — an empathetic artist -- and make believe? I can spend days sketching finely bedecked bears brewing tea or carefully choosing the right words to weave tapestries of fiction — though perhaps my hyper focus was a bit of a red flag. Even so, how could autism describe me? I was a good student. I got straight A's. I didn’t act out in class. I can make eye contact…if I must. And lots of girls hate having their hair brushed with an unholy passion, right? Clearly I swim in sarcasm like a fish, so autism couldn't be why I was so anxious all the time, could it?

If someone had told me when I was younger what autism ACTUALLY is — instead of the nonsense I’d seen on screens — I would have seen myself in it. I didn’t hear that autistics have sensory issues until I was in my mid-twenties, which is when I first began to really research autism symptoms, and I had almost all of them: sensitivity to light, smells, fabrics, temperatures, textures, and certain touches, all of which make me feel anxious, I fidget (stim), I never know what the hell to do with my hands or where to look, I talk too little or too much, I have special interests, I have entire animated movies memorized shot-by-shot and can remember the first time and place I saw every movie I've ever seen but I often forget what I'm trying to say mid-sentence, I echo movies and tv shows (my husband and I have a whole repertoire of shared echolalias, making up about 20% of our conversations), I was in speech therapy as a kid, I have issues with dysnomia and verbal fluency, I toe-walk, I can't multitask to save my life, I like things just-so, I’m deeply introverted but not shy, I need to recover from all social interaction — even social interaction I enjoy — and I find stupid, every day things like grocery shopping, driving and making appointments overwhelming and intensely stressful, sometimes to the point where I struggle to speak. It turns out, I am definitely autistic. My results weren't borderline. Not even close. And while these aren’t all of my challenges, and not everyone with these symptoms is autistic, it’s definitely something to look into if you present with all of these things at once.

So why did it take me so long to get diagnosed? The same bias that exists in media threads through the medical community as well, and because I'm a woman who can discuss the weather while smiling on cue, few people thought I was worth looking into. Even after I was fairly certain I was autistic, receiving an official diagnosis in the US is unnecessarily difficult and expensive, and in my case, completely uncovered by my insurance. It cost me over $4000, and I could only afford it because my husband makes more money than I do as a freelance illustrator — a job I fell into largely because it didn’t require in-person work; like many autists, I have been chronically underemployed and underpaid, in part due to physical illness in my twenties, which is a topic for another day. But it shouldn’t be like this. It shouldn’t be so hard for adults to receive diagnoses and it shouldn’t be so hard for people to see themselves in this condition to begin with due to misinformation and stereotypes. Like many issues in America, these barriers are even higher for marginalized groups with multiple intersectionalities.

It’s commonly said that if you’ve met one autistic person, you’ve met one autistic person. This is why it’s called a spectrum, not because there’s a linear progression of severity (someone who appears to have low support needs like myself might need more than it seems, and vice versa), but because every autistic person has their own strengths and weaknesses, challenges and experiences, opinions and needs. No two people on the spectrum present in the same way. And that’s a good thing! No way of being autistic is inherently any better than any other, and even if someone on the spectrum struggles with things I don’t — or can do things I can’t — doesn’t make them more or less deserving of respect and human dignity.

But speaking solely for myself, the more I learn about autism, the happier I am to be autistic. I struggle to find words and exert fine motor control, but my deep passion and fixation has made me good at art and storytelling anyway. I find more joy watching dogs and studying leaf shapes on my walks than most people do in an entire day. More often than not, the barriers I’ve faced weren’t due to my autism directly, but due to society being overly rigid about what it considers a valid way of existing. My hope in writing this today is that maybe one person will realize that autism isn’t what they thought — and that being different is not the same as being less than. My hope with my fiction is to give autistic children mirrors with which to see themselves, and everyone else windows through which to see us as we actually are.

If you’re interested in learning more about autism or think you might be autistic, too, I recommend the Autism Self Advocacy Network autisticadvocacy.org and the following books:

What I Mean When I Say I’m Autistic by Annie Kotowicz

We're Not Broken by Eric Garcia

Knowing Why edited by Elizabeth Bartmess

Unmasking Autism by Devon Price, PhD

Loud Hands edited by Julia Bascom

Neurotribes by Steve Silberman

(trigger warning: the last two contain quite a lot of upsetting material involving institutionalized child abuse, but I think it’s important for people to know how often autistic children were — and are — abused simply for being neurodivergent).

Thanks for reading 💛

#autism acceptance day #actually autistic

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nanaslutt · 1 year

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YOUR DRABBLES GIVE ME LIFE AHAGDJSH if you ever write about virgin gojo somehow being really good even on his first time i might lose it !!!!!!!

THANK YEEWWW NONNIE<3333

virgin gojo is very special to me i will HAPPILY expand on this idea, ty sm for the ask~

contains: fem reader, dirty talk<3, virgin!gojo, established relationship, choking, size kink if you squint, two seconds of plot for context

MDNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔

before getting into a relationship with gojo you thought he was arrogant, albeit for good reason but he was always so confident and snarky, it drove you insane

the way he would flirt with the cashier at the coffee shop when he took his students out for a break, never failing to fluster them

you’ve seen the way he teases his opponents and coworkers alike

there’s no way that a man with no sexual experience who speaks like he’s trying to seduce you constantly, has never got his dick wet

even hearing yaga say something about how he wears his glasses when he meets with women, so of course you thought he had some experience under his belt (literally)

so it’s safe to say you were a little shocked when you were straddling gojos hips, steadily rocking back and forth on his growing bulge, reaching between the two of you for his belt when one of his hands left your hip and gripped your wrist, stopping you in your tracks mumbling against your lips “slow down baby, never done this before”

it’s not like he consciously tried to stay a virgin for most of his life,

being the strongest he doesn’t exactly have time to relax all that often, so before he knew it he was twenty seven and still, had never had sex

you two have been together for a couple months, you’ve had your fair share of partners, but working at jujutsu tech yourself, you and gojo didn’t have a ton of private time for things like this

sure he’s pulled you into a janitors closet once or twice to slide his knee between your legs and sloppily make out with you till you lost your breath (only adding to the illusion that he’s done this before)

coming to the realization one day that you two haven’t gone much further than that, and wanting to feel closer to him you invited him over to your place after work,

so here you currently were

pulling back from kissing him you looked into his crystalline eyes with an unreadable expression, the gears turning in your mind

memories of him saying sentences straight out of porn when he was kissing you, the way he always knew the spots on your body to caress to make you melt into him

and what did he just say? 𝘩𝘦𝘴 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦???

“did i break you baby? heh, sorry i never told you it’s a little embarrassing” he looks away for a second, rubbing his big hand over the back of his head before placing both hands back on your hips, caressing the skin there, “jus saw were things are headin n thought i would let you know.”

this didn’t make any sense to you, you couldn’t wrap your mind around it but you had to say something, “that’s- but you’re- you- how-“ okay, not exactly what you wanted to say but it made him giggle

“‘s that a problem princess?,” caressing your legs up up up, sliding his lithe fingers under the hem of your shirt and teasing the soft skin of your tummy, he snapped you out of your daze,

“sorry, ‘s not a problem, really satoru, jus had my own assumptions about you, but this doesn’t make me want you any less” you succeeded in forming a coherent sentence, squirming and squeezing around his legs as he stimulates your body, “good to hear baby, ur gonna have to show me what to do right? how to fuck you n make you feel good?,” his teasing voice returns

it was the truth, gojo being a virgin weirdly make you feel hotter, being the first one the worlds strongest sourcerer will be inside of filled you with a sense of pride, “jus sit back baby, let me do all the work.” a wave of confidence filled your chest and he returns his own sinister looking smile

“𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘥𝘰 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬” you said. so how did you end up here? currently face down, ass up with gojo’s girthy cock splitting you in two as he gives you the most devious backshots, his long middle and index fingers rubbing your own juices all over your clit, adding to the already intense stimulation you were feeling

“fu-ck ‘s-toru-uuu” words getting cut in half as he gives you deep, heavy thrusts, “cant believe ive been missing out on 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴” he punctuates with a hard thrust, knocking the wind out of your chest

“though you d-didnt kn-ow what to d-ooo,” you were trying and failing to speak in an intelligible way, “am i doin a good job?,” he giggles, biting his lip at he looks down at the thick ring of cum you’re leaving at the base of his cock

“so good ‘toru, fuckin me s-so so good.” you turned your head to look at him to the best of your ability, feeling slight better as his words might’ve seen composed but his face and chest were flushed the prettiest shade of red, his chest heaving like he just ran a marathon

“yeah? fuckin ur pussy that good? tell me more baby, tell me how good ‘m makin you feel,” not suprised gojos love of praise transferred into the bedroom, you indulged him

“dick ‘s so big toru,” you cried out, “feel you in my tummy,” your jaw dropped as his cockhead kissed your cervix, making your eyes roll back in your head

“fucckkk,” he clenched his teeth together, leaning over you and pressing his sweaty chest to your back, reaching his big palm for your face as he crashes your lips together, a kiss full of need

how the fuck was he a virgin? no one has ever gotten you this close, this fast

he pushes his tongue into your mouth, fingers spelling his name messily on your clit, cock fucking your gspot like he has a personal vendetta against you

“‘m gunna cum pretty, u close? huh? tell me ur close, gotta feel you cum on me first.” his filthy words has the coil in ur belly tightening steadily, “wan u to choke me ‘toru please.” you manage to get out, right on the edge of your orgasm

“i got you baby,” he wraps his massive hand over your throat, almost completely enveloping it, and he squeezes at the perfect strength, coil in ur tummy snapping as your pussy pulses and swueezed round his pretty cock

“oh god, he pulls back from the kiss and whines, thrusts becoming erratic, loosing his pace, “squeezin so tight, haaa-“ his jaw is completely slack, eyes screwed shut before his orgasm follows, right behind you

“yesss give it to me toru,” you smile against his slack jaw, and he’s never sounded as pretty as he does right now, cumming so hard, fucking his come as deep as he can into you, some spilling out around his dick as his large figure collapses onto your back

“toru…ur fuckin heavy.” strength in your arms completely gone as you try and fail to wiggle him off you, realizing that the strength in the rest of your body has completely abandoned you as well

“js… jus- gimmie a second, please,” all teasing in his voice completely gone, he’s still inside you and you feel his cock twitch every so often as his breath hitches against your neck

you let his weight press down on you for a couple seconds, letting him regain his own strength

“never cum that hard in my life, think i just died for a second.” he says, lifting himself off of you and sliding his softening cock covered in your combined cum, out of you

you wince at how sensitive you are, groaning as he wipes you down with his discarded shirt, “sorry heh, got a little carried away,” he giggles at your protests

coming up on your side and wrapping his arms around your figure, burring his face into your neck, peppering kisses there

“soo,” he purses his lips, lifting his head a bit to get a good view of your face, “any feedback?”

“cant feel my body, you virgin freak.” you sigh, wrapping your arms around the ones encasing yourself, “how did you just fuck me an inch from my life and you’ve really never had sex before??” you ask your boyfriend in disbelief

“porn :p” he cheeses into ur neck

“i’m gonna forget you said that.”

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muwapsturniolo · 16 days

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Keep Reading ☁︎ Matt Sturniolo

"Wanna hear y'pretty voice sweetheart."

✘ auralism/vocalphelia, masochism, dry humping, oral (f receiving), fingering.

You've been waiting for years for the problematic author Stephanie Meyer to release the book "Midnight Sun". You spent so much of your time scavenging the internet for snippets, teasers, release dates, etc. So when the time finally came and you had the book in your hand, you were ecstatic. You had a whole day planned to lay in bed and read the book you've been waiting for. However, your plans to sit in bed and read in peace were foiled by your boyfriend, Matt. You've only managed to get through the first twenty pages before he settled himself between your plump thighs, begging you, urging you, to read to him. You thought nothing of it at first, you thought it was innocent the way he wanted you to read to him, but you were wrong.

The words on the cream pages meshed together as you struggled to concentrate, the pleasure coming from your boyfriend who was currently nose deep in your aching cunt being too much. He groans, his eyes rolling back as he listens to your voice, his hips rutting against the soft mattress as he laps between your folds. "Keep going sweetheart, keep reading," He manages to say in between breaths, his nose nudging against your clit.

"F-fuck - I-I put on my f-favorite calming C-CD, the same one I-Matt!"

You mewl loudly as he suddenly slips two fingers into your cunt, the digits massaging the velvety walls diligently. The book was dropped to the bed, long forgotten as your hands lurch forward, grasping the chocolate strands of his hair and yanking him closer - grinding wildly against his face. He groans at the pain and pulls away, your clit falling from his mouth with a pop. " Wanna hear y'pretty voice sweetheart, keep reading or I stop - keep reading f'me." You manage to pout during your pleasure, frustrated that he won't just give you what you want...But you do as told, always wanting to be his good girl.

You haphazardly grab the bulky book, trying to find where you left off. " B-but I wasn't listening to D-Debussy's notes for long-''

Matt's hips buck against the bed wildly, his groans sending vibrations right to your core that only push you closer to the edge. As you came closer to your impending orgasm, your voice raised higher in pitch - it drove Matt wild. With his left hand he gripped your thigh tighter, yanking you closer and shaking his head side to side, divulging in your sweet juices he couldn't get enough of. His fingers moved faster, curling them right against that special spot that had you seeing stars.

"T-then I could hear her h-heart be- oh, Matt! m'clo-se! please!" She begged breathlessly, her chest rising and falling harshly. "Finish it baby, finish the sentence and let go-" he moans, his endless rutting becoming sloppy as he tips over the edge himself. "I-I could hear her heart beating and her even breathing! As I watched, she s-squeezed her eyes tightly shut! That eased some of m-my panic- oh fuck!"

It was something out of a pornographic film, the way the book tumbled out of your hand and onto the floor, your juices spraying out and coating Matt's face. This was the first time you managed to squirt, ever, and Matt loved it. He moans out loudly as his humping comes to a halt, his head resting on your inner thigh - his eyes low as they stay trained on your clenching hole. His eyes trail upward, a smirk gracing his face as your dazed eyes meet his. Your brows furrow as your bottom lip juts out.

"You ruined my reading time...."

He lifts himself up, the stain on his sweatpants a clear indication of him reaching his own climax. He crawls over you, moving a few curly strands out of your face.

"You're lucky I didn't make you read as I fuck you."

idk what to call this cause this isn't a full on fic, but it's too long to be a blurb😭 ANYWAYYYYYY the layout of this was inspired by my fav rose toy, @bernardsbendystraws !

#sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #smut #matthew sturniolo #matthew sturniolo smut #sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #matt girl #matt sturniolo imagine

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moonlinos · 8 months

Text

Call my bluff, call you ‘babe’

♡ Pairing: Lee Minho × fem!reader

♡ Genre: Childhood friends to lovers, fluff

♡ CW: Implied smut, alcohol consumption. Twenty solid seconds of angst, but it doesn’t even really count. It’s just tooth-rotting fluff.

♡ Word count: 5.5k

♡ Synopsis: Minho has been your best friend since you two could barely form coherent sentences. He was there when your last baby tooth fell, he was there when you failed your high school exams, and he was there as you walked down the aisle.

♡ A/N: This was going to be just word-vomit fluff to make me cry, but I couldn’t control myself and before I knew it there were… so many words.

You were four years old when you met Minho. It was the first day of kindergarten, and you were assigned seats together. The entire day was spent with you chatting to every kid you could reach from your seat while Minho quietly sat painting and doodling by your side. You vaguely remember thinking he was odd and whining to your mom about how your seatmate was boring, and that was why he was the only kid in class you didn’t talk to. She smiled and told you maybe you should make an effort to talk to him. That same day, you racked your little brain for a reason why your seatmate might be so quiet and promptly decided that he was too shy to start a conversation himself. You then asked your mom if the fact that you didn’t talk to him might have made him sad, to which she hesitated, and that was enough to have your bottom lip wobbling.

You remember tears streaming down your cheeks as you frantically sobbed, inconsolable at the fact that your seatmate was sad and that it was partially because of you.

The next day, you asked if Minho would like to use your special glitter pens — you even told him you wouldn’t mind if he used your favorite colors. That was really all that was needed to plant the bud of friendship between you two.

Ever since that day, you two slowly became inseparable.

You attended the same elementary school after begging your parents, writing a very concise list of reasons why you two could not possibly be separated. Reasons such as the fact that Minho still didn’t know how to tie his shoelaces, so it would be dangerous for him to be alone in a new school. Or the fact that you were always losing your gloves, and Minho always carried an extra pair in his backpack just for you, so you would surely catch a cold if you didn’t have him beside you during winter.

All extremely valid reasons.

Minho began walking you home from school when you were both nine years old. He was often left alone due to his parents’ work schedules, which made him become the most street-smart kid in your class. You had to beg your mom for a week, but she ultimately caved in.

Your favorite thing to do on your way home was to stop randomly and doodle on the sidewalk with chalk, with Minho joining you in no time. You even had your favorite little sketching spot — right in front of a nice old lady’s flower shop, where you two would spend far too much time decorating her entrance pavement with flowers, rainbows, and smiley faces. She would later introduce herself to you, Ms. Kim, and would always thank you both with a flower of your choice. You always picked tulips, and Minho always picked daisies.

On one hazy winter day, you and Minho were eager to adorn the flower shop’s entrance with a new set of doodles since the ones you had done just yesterday got covered in snow. As you two did your best to dig through the piled-up snow with your gloved hands, you suddenly felt something hard slide down your throat. Your hands stilled, and you turned to look at Minho with wide eyes.

“What happened?” He asked. “Did you lose your glove in the snow this time?”

You shook your head frantically, careful not to swallow. “Teeth,” you simply said.

Minho looked at you like you were crazy, squinting his eyes as he studied your face. “What?”

You felt tears well up, and he immediately abandoned his mission of shuffling through the snow before pulling you into a big hug.

“Why are you crying? Don’t cry. I hate when you cry, I feel weird when you cry,” He said, but no tears left his worried eyes. Minho never cried, that was something you had learned a while back.

You, however, cried until Ms. Kim noticed you two from the window, cooing as she approached you two with a gentle smile. You tried your best to explain your predicament. Minho sat with you behind the wooden counter, holding your hand in his, the smell of flowers making everything feel less catastrophic than it did ten minutes earlier.

Ms. Kim explained that you had no reason to cry, as it was normal for kids to swallow their baby teeth. And you remember harshly shaking your head and explaining with a trembling voice that you hadn’t cried because of that. You had cried because that was your last baby tooth, which meant you were officially a grown-up. You didn’t want to be a grown-up. Minho wasn’t a grown-up yet, with his last baby tooth still holding on proudly in his gums. You didn’t want to be a grown-up all alone; it would be terrible and sad.

That afternoon, you two went home together in silence, your respective flowers clutched in your hands. Minho was never good with words. Sadness engulfed him because he couldn’t do enough to make his best friend smile again. What was the point of a best friend if they didn’t make you laugh when you were crying?

Minho walked into school the next day with a proud smile on his face before placing his last baby tooth on your desk. You eyed it curiously, brows furrowed.

“There, I took it off last night,” He simply said. “Now we’re gonna be grown-ups together.”

At eleven years old, your daily after-school video game appointments began.

You had just cut your hair short; a bob you thought looked cute on your favorite singer turned out to be cataclysmically unflattering on you. And, at eleven years old, it was earth-shattering and definitely the end of your life (despite what your mother told you).

You spent every second out in public with your hair hidden by a beanie, hoping it would distract people from your disastrous haircut.

Except it had the opposite effect.

One particular day at school, a boy came up to you simply to inform you that your head looked like a mushroom before running away, laughing with his friends. They were foolish words spoken by a foolish boy, but you were eleven. Once again, earth-shattering and the end of your life.

You avoided everyone the entire day — including Minho, whom you always talked to no matter your mood. You knew you wouldn’t be able to avoid him for much longer, seeing as he walked you home every day, so you simply prayed he wouldn’t notice your puffy eyes or that he at least hadn’t heard any of the other kids making unfunny jokes about your haircut.

After school, Minho sighed in feigned annoyance when you told him you had lost your gloves again before retrieving a pair from his backpack. Like a habit, you asked if he wanted to hang out at your house, although the answer was always unchanging.

“My mom’s baking a cake,” you told him. “We can play video games and then eat it together.”

Minho hummed in agreement, adjusting his backpack before grabbing your hand as you two began your daily walk to your house. It was something you always did, never walking anywhere without your hands clasped together. These past few months, however, this once ordinary gesture had begun making your heart beat faster. You didn’t understand why, and you would rather not think about it because every time you did, the words from your other friends would echo inside your head. Their stories about how they felt their hearts racing when their crush had hugged them or even looked their way, making you question if maybe…

But it couldn’t be. Minho was your best friend. How could he be your crush?

It was another one of those afternoons, your mom busily making you two sandwiches as you and Minho played New Super Mario Bros on your Wii under the blanket fort you always meticulously built. Minho had been acting weird all day — even weirder than you, who had to endure all the asinine jokes and hurtful words from your peers. As you completed the last level for the umpteenth time, saving Princess Peach, Minho all but threw his controller to the side. You turned to shoot him a questioning look, which went ignored as he rummaged through his backpack.

He retrieved a crumpled-up piece of paper, which he promptly gave to you.

You cocked your head, awaiting some sort of explanation, but Minho simply picked up his controller once more and hit play on the game.

Unfolding the paper, words greeted you in Minho’s messy handwriting.

YOUR HAIR LOOKS CUTE. STOP HIDING IT.

Your lips parted slightly, but before you could say anything to him, Minho reached out and snatched your beanie from your head. Your short hair and bangs cascaded onto your face, partially obscuring your view. But you could still make out his side profile, where a faint smile appeared on his lips.

After that, you two were silent for the rest of the day, eventually dozing off under the tent lulled by the sound of your mother’s hand mixer and Mario’s theme song. The sun eventually set outside the window, and you woke up to two plates of your mother’s cake waiting for you on the coffee table.

From that point on, your beanie was left forgotten inside your drawer.

You were fifteen when you realized that perhaps your feelings for Minho weren’t all that platonic after all.

It all started with a letter on Minho’s desk on a rainy Friday. October 25th, Minho’s birthday.

Minho’s quiet nature hadn’t changed one bit since you first sat beside him at four years old. He would rather die than start a conversation, rarely went out to the movies with your friend group and, most importantly, hated being the center of attention. That was why he told no one about his birthday since you two began high school this year. It was the subject of much debate among your little group of friends, with some bribing Minho with his favorite snacks or promising to do his assignments until college just for some sort of clue; a day, month, even the day of the week he was born.

But Minho never budged.

So, seeing a letter on his desk on the day of his birthday was odd, to say the least.

You arrived back to the classroom late after chatting to your friend from another class in the hallway, catching as Minho sat down with a puzzled look on his face and an open letter in his hands.

“What’s up?” You asked, sitting on the desk in front of him.

He looked up, thick glasses crooked from a dodgeball incident earlier that week. “Yumi found out it’s my birthday today,” He informed you, a bit too nonchalantly. “She organized a birthday party at her house tomorrow with our friends.”

You immediately took the letter, reading it and blanching at the words written in the girl’s pretty handwriting. She had found out Minho’s birthday by snooping around Facebook until she found his mother, who had a plethora of pictures of Minho on his previous birthdays. Not only that, the letter ended with a paragraph where she confessed her feelings to him — with all the clichés and dramatics only an adolescent crush could provide.

You still remember your first thoughts upon learning that information: Oh, Yumi. Of course a girl like her would do something like this.

You cringe at your words now, but at fifteen, you deemed no girl worthy of your best friend. Especially ‘girls like Yumi,’ who in your eyes all but threw herself at him. At the time, you thought you were looking out for the boy who was practically your brother. Now, you understand you were simply an insecure fifteen-year-old who allowed ugly, misogynistic thoughts to brew inside your mind out of fear of losing Minho. For your immature brain, every girl interested in Minho was an enemy because they could easily take him away from you.

And Minho had never reciprocated any girl’s feelings, always politely turning down the few confessions he had gotten during middle school. You were ready to berate Yumi, your brows immediately furrowing as your face contorted, but Minho beat you to it, speaking before you could utter a word.

“I know I should be mad, but isn’t it a little… cute?”

You couldn’t help but scoff, the sound escaping your lips like a burst of disbelief. You also couldn’t help how your hands began to tremble as your heart shot up to your throat.

“Cute?” You asked with the strongest voice you could muster. “You think her invading your privacy is cute?”

And Minho simply shrugged, tapping his fingers on his desk. “A little bit. I know you don’t really like her, but she’s part of our friend group,” He said, taking the letter from your shaky hands. “Plus, she’s always been nice to me, and she is cute.”

That was all you could physically bear to hear, excusing yourself from the conversation with the lie that your friend had called you from the classroom window before sprinting out into the hallway. As you continued walking, your palms grew clammy and your heart weighed heavily in your chest.

You felt tears well up in your eyes once you reached the stairs. Sitting on the steps, you cried into the cardigan of your ugly school uniform. You didn’t care that you would be scolded for skipping class; all you cared about was that your best friend was going to be taken from you.

After school, as you and Minho were about to exit the school gates — your hands tightly clasped together as they always were — Yumi appeared carrying a cake, the rest of your friends behind her as they all sang happy birthday.

Minho blew out the candles and made a wish. Everyone cheered as his best friend, Chan, shoved his face into the cake. Minho yelled at him, grumbling with glasses covered in white frosting, but ultimately laughing along. Yumi was quick to clean his face with a napkin, earning her a smile from Minho before he released your hand to gently squeeze her rosy cheeks.

You remained quiet, forcing out a smile and looking up at the sky every now and then so your tears wouldn’t fall.

All because Minho had let go of your hand.

Minho’s fifteenth birthday — that was the day you learned you could fool everyone else, but never yourself.

Your seventeenth summer was a drag.

Minho had just been broken up with a couple of months before, Yumi crying as she explained her parents wanted her to focus on her studies, and having a boyfriend was simply a distraction she couldn’t afford if she wanted to be a doctor someday. An unwilling participant in the entire situation, you sat awkwardly at the bus stop as she spoke.

You were ready to witness Minho cry for the first time in your life, maybe yell about how unfair her parents were being, but he simply pressed a kiss to her forehead just as your bus arrived.

Not much had changed when he began dating Yumi, with you learning that suppressing how you truly felt was worryingly easy. You still hung out with them, battling through their cuddles and kisses like a soldier on the front lines of a war. Never unscathed, but always strong. Nobody needed to know about how you cried into your mother’s arms almost every night before falling asleep.

The only change had been you and Minho’s daily gaming appointments. You two had since outgrown your video game phase, both now interested in diverging things that made it impossible for you to enjoy them together. You discovered your love for flowers went beyond doodling on the sidewalk in front of a flower shop, but Minho complained that growing flowers was too time-consuming, and he loved dancing, which you were far too uncoordinated and lazy to even try doing.

And so, you two settled for simply hanging out together at your house. Your room had easy access to the roof, which you two took full advantage of, setting up a permanent blanket fort where you would snuggle up with pillows and talk for hours after school.

That summer was no different, with Minho stretched out across the old mattress, watching the light pink sky slowly fade away as night set in while you two busied yourselves talking.

That was the day you finally gathered the courage to ask Minho about his breakup, desperate to understand why he had appeared so unfazed. After the one-year milestone of their relationship in February, you had begun to make peace with the fact that she would probably be around for a while.

Minho shrugged at your question, hands resting on his stomach while he gnawed on his bottom lip. He explained he was sure that he liked her, but it turned out he valued her as a friend much more than as a girlfriend.

You couldn’t help but scoff at the answer. You knew Minho better than you knew yourself at times, which was why you knew he was lying through his teeth.

“Why did you stay so long with her, then?” You questioned, the resentful lilt in your voice a bit too obvious. You cleared your throat before adding, “I mean, you surely didn’t act as just friends.”

“I guess I felt lonely before,” He explained. “I was selfish for staying with her, but I enjoyed having someone. Was especially nice after…” Minho trailed off, dismissively shaking his head, and you remember being close to throwing him off that roof as he kept being so damn enigmatic.

“After what?” You prodded, “Minho, I’m your best friend. What’s the point of us talking if you’re not gonna tell me the truth?”

He turned his head to look up at you, the darkening sky making his eyes gleam as if they held an entire galaxy of stars. You felt that familiar nervousness return.

“It was nice to not be so alone after so many years of pining after someone.”

You cocked your head to the side, and Minho had the gall to chuckle at your puzzled expression. You shook your head, mumbling to yourself that your conversation was pointless if he wouldn’t tell you the whole truth.

Lying next to him on the mattress with a sigh, you could feel the weight of Minho’s gaze on you. You couldn’t bring yourself to move.

You remember the moon was already high in the sky by the time one of you finally moved — Minho, who slowly inched his hand closer to yours before clasping it tightly in his. Despite your racing heart, you thought nothing of it. He was now single, so it wouldn’t be ludicrous to assume a habit you two had cultivated for many years would naturally return.

However, after some beats from your erratically racing heart, Minho’s fingers intertwined with yours. You had never done that before, always holding hands in a way that all but screamed platonic.

That night, with his thumb caressing your skin and his hand squeezing yours, Minho finally spoke the truth after so long.

“It’s you,” He said, tone nonchalant but voice audibly shaky. “Think I’ve been pining after you since I was nine and ripped my tooth out ‘cause I thought that’d make you stop being sad.”

You remember gasping quietly and his hand tightening around yours as the clock ticked and your silence remained. You remember finally mustering up the courage to turn to look at him and being met by an expression you had rarely seen on Minho’s face in the thirteen years you had known him — he was scared, wide eyes dancing around your face as if he looked for an answer in your features, his chapped lips parted slightly as if he was ready to backtrack the moment he saw any hint of doubt in your eyes.

You remember smiling at him and how his expression shifted into pure confusion. All it took was for him to finally have the nerve to hold your hand in the way he’d always wanted to, and for you to use his courage as a catalyst for your own. You remember how you closed the distance between you two and pressed your lips to his. You remember it feeling weird because you were kissing Minho, your best friend.

But you also remember it feeling right because you were kissing Minho, your best friend.

Your transition from being best friends to being in a relationship was easier than you had ever thought it would be — it was also slower than you could have ever imagined.

Minho never asked you out or confessed his feelings beyond what was said on the roof, and neither did you. It was a shared knowledge between you, a silent agreement that didn’t need words — at least for now. The little gestures and subtle changes left no doubt in your minds that you two were, in fact, no longer just friends — like how you began to always intertwine your fingers while holding hands, or how Minho would pull you onto his lap when you hung out with your friends, or how you would rest your head on his shoulder as he played with your hair during lunch break.

Your friends certainly had questions, the confusion written all over their faces easy to read like a book, but you both knew they also understood your relationship without you needing to make a big deal out of it.

You picked him up from dance class every weekend, sometimes arriving earlier just to catch a glimpse of him through the glass door, as Minho insisted he was too embarrassed to dance in front of you.

One day, thoroughly unprompted, he reached into his backpack as you two exited his dance academy and pulled out a yellow tulip. You had furrowed your brows at the sudden gesture, and Minho nonchalantly told you that planting your favorite flower was surprisingly easy. Since becoming teenagers, you had stopped going to Ms. Kim’s flower shop, and you had long forgotten about how you two used to have your own respective flowers back in the day.

It seemed Minho hadn’t forgotten.

That was one thing you had come to know about him only after you began dating. Although he seemed cold and distant on the outside — rarely communicating his feelings through words — Minho secretly kept a mental note of every little detail about the people he cared about, and he unfailingly found a way to communicate his feelings through actions. Such as promptly handing you a brand-new flower he had picked before you even had the chance to mourn your tulip as it began to wilt.

You, on the other hand, had always been the type of person to communicate through words; spoken, written, or read, which is how you began saving your best daisies from the small garden you created in your backyard and practicing your flower arrangement skills exclusively by making pretty bouquets you could gift to Minho (always with little notes hidden among the flowers).

Your once explicitly platonic roof dates also left no room for doubt, as making out under your usual tent became a hard-to-break habit. In fact, that was how your family found out about your relationship. You were eighteen, with graduation just around the corner, when your mother caught Minho kissing you as tears welled up in your eyes at the thought of having to be apart from him during college (although you both knew that would never be the case, as you always moved mountains simply to stay together).

Everything was slow-paced, and neither of you had any desire to rush anything. Once, Minho told you he had waited eight years to finally kiss you, and somehow, that anticipation was what had made it all the more special.

And so, your first proper date only happened six months after your first kiss, and your first fight only happened a year and a half into your relationship. Not to mention your first I love you, which had been a slip-up that happened only in your first year of college after a drunken night with Chan and Minho. Your head on his lap, your tulip nestled among his daisies in a pretty vase on the coffee table as Chan hummed along to some song that came from his phone. You felt as if your entire being was filled with pure gratitude at that moment, and the liquid courage that flowed through your veins only helped you mutter out how much you loved Minho.

He looked down at you, hands cupping your cheeks with a silly smile adorning his face, and simply answered, “Well, I love you more.”

Your carefree attitude toward your relationship was almost a contrast to the one you had with your friendship. You and Minho had met so young that you could never truly pinpoint when you had become such close friends. You always wondered if that was what led you two to be so easygoing with what most people rush into. Things happened when they were supposed to happen.

You remember one of Minho’s new friends, Changbin, asking something about your sex life at some party during freshman year, and you two nonchalantly answering that you didn’t really have one. Your friends’ shock was understandable, but you and Minho only laughed.

Things happened when they were supposed to happen.

It was Minho’s 21st birthday, when your flowers were no longer in bloom, but your love remained blossoming like it was mid-spring. He had, as always, vetoed any and every plan of a celebration suggested by your friends. He opted to stay in with you, cuddling under a blanket fort like you had been doing for so many years. Chan graciously offered to sleep at a friend’s dorm, leaving your small shared apartment just for you and Minho.

He hadn’t planned for anything to happen, and neither had you. You were simply lying together, watching the flickering of the candles you had set up around the coffee table, recounting the innumerable memories you shared when you suddenly felt the earnest, all-consuming need to have Minho as close as possible.

It was clumsy, both of you inexperienced and nervous. Your teeth crashed together and your hands gripped each other tightly, the realization of the intensity of your yearning becoming undeniable. At some point, the entire tent collapsed on top of you, and laughter filled the room for a brief moment before being replaced by your sighs and whispered moans.

It wasn’t perfect, but it was you and Minho.

Graduation day was a blur in your mind.

It had all started with Minho and Chan drunk at eleven a.m., offering you the awful-tasting omelet they had cooked in your cramped kitchen. They then went on to zone out for most of the ceremony after stumbling out of your apartment.

You approached Minho after he was done taking pictures and getting scolded by his family for being drunk on his graduation day, his mother giving you an apologetic look as you whisked him away.

“You’re stressed,” you pointed out.

“Yeah.”

“Me too,” you replied with a sigh, resting against a large tree far enough away from the hustle and bustle of recently graduated students and crying families. “So is Chan. Don’t think I’ve seen him this drunk since Jisung’s birthday party last year.”

Minho chuckled, shifting on his feet and toying with the fabric of his gown. You furrowed your brows; he only ever got fidgety when hiding something. You learned that for the first time when you were thirteen and he had to wait until your birthday to tell you he’d gotten you two tickets to see your favorite band, and again when he had to keep Chan’s then-girlfriend’s plans of asking him to move in together a secret.

“You’re not nervous ‘cause of graduation, are you?”

You remember the way he stilled almost immediately.

“We always tell each other the truth, right?” He asked.

You remember the way your whole world spun as he pulled out a small box from his pocket and how everything seemed to fade into a white mist that surrounded Minho like a spotlight as he proposed to you.

Your wedding was small — both because that was how you had wanted it to be and because of your lack of money for a proper party.

After graduating, Minho became a dance teacher at the academy he attended as a teen, teaching little kids who he said always reminded him of you two. You used the money your parents had saved for you to travel after college to buy the old flower shop that held so many memories from your childhood. Neither of you used your degrees, and neither of you made a lot of money, but you were overflowing with an infatuation for life and a love for each other so great that it made up for any silly inconvenience that dared to come up.

The ceremony was held at a local church — although neither of you was particularly religious, that was the cheapest place available. You opted to walk down the aisle together; hands clasped the way you used to do for many years while walking home from school. Minho held onto a daisy bouquet you made, while you held the single tulip he had picked out for you that day.

“I’m not good with words,” was how Minho began his vows, the glow of the fairy lights and candles adorning the church rendering his attempt at hiding his tears futile. That was the first time you had ever seen him cry in the twenty-one years you’d known him. “But I think that never mattered with you. You know me better than I know myself. Most times, I don’t even have to say a word, and you’ll still understand me. It’s been this way since we were four, and you understood why I was so quiet, and you still chose to be my friend. Thank you for understanding me, and thank you for allowing me to love you. Loving you is what I do best and look how lucky I am; I’ve been able to do it for my whole life.” He then shot you a grin, the back of his hand wiping away your tears. He ended his speech with a line that was so very Minho, thought up with sincerity but spoken primarily to make you smile. “You’ve always felt like home, and I can’t wait to feel that way until we’re both food for the worms to eat.”

You had never cried so much as you did on the day of your wedding — which was remarkable, seeing as you’d been a crier your whole life. You remember the irony of it all; Minho, who had never been good with words, telling you about his love with words that came from his heart and spilled from his lips without any rehearsal, while you were rendered speechless and too emotional to even attempt to form a coherent sentence.

Your wedding vow was a simple, choked-up, “Thank you for being my best friend, Minho.”

Minho carried you home from the church, with your cheeks flushing pink and his smile beaming as your friends made rice cascade around the two of you like snow. It turned out the boy who hated attention didn’t mind the spotlight so long as it meant showing off his love for you.

Your honeymoon was spent in your small house above your flower shop — which you named Daisy’s Tulips — where you cuddled under a blanket fort the entire day, only leaving the comfort of the pillows and fluffy covers well after midnight to adorn the sidewalk in front of your house in a brand new chalk drawing.

“Can you imagine if we never said anything?” Minho suddenly wondered aloud, his chuckle echoing through the quiet street. “We were both pretty good at hiding our feelings for so long.”

And you simply shook your head, painting a daisy with white chalk on the sidewalk. “Minho, I know you. You wouldn’t have let me keep pretending after finding out I liked you too.”

“Who says I would have found out?”

“You said it yourself,” you explained, “I know you better than you know yourself, and that’s reciprocal. You would’ve found out ‘cause I can never hide anything from you.”

And Minho smiled, taking your hand in his just as you were done with your drawing. Your gaze shifted toward him, and you admired the man he had become. From the shy little boy who sat beside you to the quiet teenager with thick glasses to the man he had grown into; you loved every version of Minho you had the privilege to meet throughout your life, and you were certain you would love every new version of him you came to know in the future as well.

“Of course you can’t,” he stated matter-of-factly. “I’m your best friend, aren’t I?” He asked with a grin, and you nodded. He then added, “Thank you for being my best friend.”

♡ taglist: @bloom-ings, @linocz, @farahia, @mirbokk, @jisunglyricist

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munson-blurbs · 11 months

Text

Best friend!Eddie x Fem!Reader

Summary: Your best friend gets a lot more than he bargained for when he walks in on you wearing only your Hellfire Club t-shirt.

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), dry humping, thigh riding, cumming in pants

WC: 1.2k

A/N: Reader is described as wearing an oversized Hellfire t-shirt. This is her shirt, not Eddie's. There is no indication of her size whatsoever.

Once I had a love and it was a gas

Soon turned out had a heart of glass

Your toothbrush is clenched in your hand, but instead of cleaning your teeth, it serves as a microphone while you dance around your bedroom. The stereo is playing loudly; you can’t even hear the creaking staircase floorboards over the music.

Seemed like the real thing, only to find

Mucho mistrust, love’s gone be—AAAAH!

Your palm flies to your chest when you see Eddie standing in your doorway, a shit-eating grin plastered on his face.

“And here I thought I was the rockstar in this friendship,” he smirks, arms folded across his chest.

Your heart rate slowly returns back to a pace that won’t send you to an early grave. “Jesus, Eddie! What are you doing here?”

“Figured I’d stop by,” he replies nonchalantly. “Y’know, you probably shouldn’t leave your front door unlocked while your folks aren’t home. Anyone could walk in off the street.” He flops onto your bed with an exaggerated exhale, looking pointedly in your direction. “Nice pants, by the way.”

Nice pants? You’re ready to sleep; an oversized Hellfire tee serving as your pajamas. You’re not even wearing—oh.

You tug at the hem, but even after years of wear, it doesn’t stretch below your thighs. Heat blooms in your face. “Yeah, well,” you sputter, “I wasn’t expecting visitors.”

Eddie pouts. “You mean you didn’t wear that ‘specially for little ol’ me?” He ducks as you hurl your toothbrush at his head. He opens his mouth to say something before quickly clamping it shut, but not before you notice.

“What?”

“N-Nothing.”

You cross your arms, more firm this time. “What?!”

“When you, uh, threw the toothbrush…your shirt…” His face turns bright red as he scrambles to explain. “…it, uh, kinda rode up.” His Adam’s apple bobs nervously.

“It’s just underwear. You’ve seen me in a swimsuit before.” You try to hide your own embarrassment, playing it off coolly, but all you can think about is the fact that Eddie Munson saw your panties.

He nods, wiping his palms on his jeans. “Right, yeah. Totally the same thing.” He clears his throat. “Well, I should get going.” He pushes on his knees, starting to stand up, but abruptly stops. “Actually, um, maybe I’ll hang out here for a bit, if you wanna maybe put…put something else on.” Pink embarrassment blooms in his cheeks, spreading down his neck.

“No, I’m going to bed, and you’re leaving. We can get breakfast tomorrow morning or something.” You sigh when he doesn’t move, making your way to where he’s sitting. “C’mon, time to—”

Eddie attempts to hunch himself over, but there’s no hiding the hardening bulge straining behind his zipper.

It’s only natural, you tell yourself. He’s a twenty-year-old guy; he’ll get a boner if the wind blows the wrong way. It doesn’t mean he’s into you.

“Shit, I’m sorry. This is super weird, and I shouldn’t have come in without knocking.” He buries his head in his hands. “Just…give me a sec, okay?”

“Okay.” Now’s your chance. If there’s any time to find out if he’s into you, it’s when he’s sporting a stiffie in your bedroom. “Or…I could help you with it?”

His head whips around so fast that his curls are a blur of brown. “Wh-What? Like, help me…?” He’s desperate for you to finish his sentence, not wanting to say something that makes the situation even more awkward.

“I can help you get off. If you want. Or you can just use my bathroom and, I dunno, rub one out.” You cringe at the phrasing. “No pressure.”

“Um, yeah. No pressure.” His thumbs circle each other, an anxious habit he’s had for years. “So if you were gonna help me out, what would that look like?”

You shrug, a half-smile gracing your lips. “I guess I’d do this first.” You place one hand on each of his shoulders, straddling his waist with your bare thighs. “And then I’d kiss you?”

“Mhm, please.” Eddie grips your hips as you lean in, mouths finding one another in unhurried splendor. He tastes like stale Camels and spearmint gum, only breaking the connection to trail his lips down your neck.

It’s your favorite spot to be kissed, and the way his teeth nip at your flesh, tongue gliding over the mark as though sealing it in, has you grinding down on him.

“Christ, honey,” he breathes, “you look so goddamn perfect like this.” His fingertips dig into your asscheeks possessively before one hand snakes its way up your shirt. You expect him to lift it above your head to expose your breasts, but he doesn’t.

“Y-You can take it off,” you stammer, feeling silly as you say it aloud.

Eddie shakes his head in refusal. “Next time.” Next time. It’s a promise you hope he’ll keep. “I just love the way you look in this shirt.” And nothing but this shirt, he thinks to himself.

The friction of your cotton panties on his denim pants is delectable, providing just enough pressure to your aching clit. You’re greedy in your movements but make sure to give him what he needs, too. Your pussy rubs against his clothed cock; Eddie uses the hand on your ass to help guide your hips.

“Thassit, oh, fuck,” he grunts, teased with the beginnings of an orgasm. “Right there, baby. Ohmygod, I’m gonna cum in my fuckin’ pants.”

“S’okay,” you murmur into his ear, gently biting the lobe, “‘m close, too. So close, holy shit.”

Sweat beads along his upper lip, his groans more needy and guttural. “‘M coming, ‘m coming, ‘m coming.” He babbles pathetically as sticky, wet warmth floods his boxers. You follow his lead, finishing on his somehow still-hard cock.

The immediate aftermath is filled with panting breaths and sporadic giggles as the pleasure high fades and reality sets in.

“Did we just—” Eddie starts, eyes wide in disbelief.

You laugh, resting your forehead on his shoulder. “Mhm. We sure did.”

He rakes a hand through his curls, frizzy from perspiration and activity. “So, um, what do we do now?” There are many unspoken questions woven into it. What does this mean for our friendship? Do we even have a friendship anymore? Was it as good for you as it was for me?

“Well…” You sit up a bit straighter, toying with the chain of his guitar pick necklace. “We can throw your stuff in the wash, and maybe while we’re waiting, we can get started on that next time you’d mentioned earlier?”

Eddie grins, kissing you with a fervor like you’ve never seen. “What are we waiting for?” He tugs off his pants and boxers, unashamed of the way he’s painted them with cum. When he notices you staring, he winks. “‘S a lot, isn’t it? Imagine how much it’ll be when I’m actually inside you.”

It doesn’t take long for either of you to find out.

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things #fanfic #smut

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harrysfolklore · 8 months

Text

30th birthday

i just can’t believe harry is 30 and this is my way to cope, i hope you like this 🥲

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

The calendar marked February 1st as the date, which meant that it was finally Harry's 30th birthday.

You woke up earlier than him, in order to make him his special birthday breakfast that was a tradition by now, and as you stood alone in the cooking in the kitchen, you couldn't help but reminisce about all the previous birthdays you've celebrated with Harry.

From celebrating his birthday at a restaurant with his brand new band mates and friends after a day of The X Factor rehearsals, having big parties thrown for him with celebrities in attendance, flying off to Japan to celebrate there and throwing a concert to spend his special day with his fans, you couldn't believe Harry was turning 30 and you were able to grow up by his side.

"Love, where are you?" his raspy morning voice made its way to your ears, and you couldn't help but smile.

"Over here, in the kitchen!"

You turned around to see Harry stumbling into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes sleepily. His hair was tousled, and he was wearing an oversized t-shirt that you recognized as one of your favorites.

"Morning, birthday boy," you greeted him, leaning in to give him a soft kiss.

"Morning," he replied, his eyes still half-closed. "What's all this?" Harry gestured towards the spread of pancakes, eggs, and bacon you had prepared on the table.

"It's your special birthday breakfast, as always," you pecked his lips again.

"You know, you could've woken me up with a 30 minute long blowj-"

"Harry!" you cut him off before he could finish his sentence, "Every single year, you say the same thing! When will you stop being a menace."

"Can you blame me?" Harry shrugged, "You still look as hot as you did when we first met fourteen years ago."

"Fourteen, huh?" you said, tilting your head, "How does it feel to not be a twenty something anymore? You're basically an old man now."

"I feel good, honestly," he said sincerely, his eyes locking with yours, "I mean, I'm happy and healthy, I have the job of my dreams, a family that loves me, supporting friends and the best girlfriend in the world, I'm a very lucky old man."

"You're too cute," you kissed him again, "Now eat your breakfast, we have a lot of celebrations to do today."

The day went by smoothly, Harry answered a couple of calls and texts from friends and family and you spent the afternoon cuddling up before it was time for his birthday dinner.

Harry wanted something small and intimate, with just a handful of close friends and family invited, so you decided to host the birthday dinner at your home. As the evening approached, the house was filled with the delicious aroma of the special dinner you had prepared for him.

Jeff and Glenne were the first ones to arrive, carrying a homemade cake that Glenne insisted she had baked all morning. Sarah and Mitch came next with their baby boy who giggled and clapped as Harry made silly faces, clearly enjoying the attention from the famous Cool Harry, because he refused to be called uncle.

"Damn mate, I can't believe you're 30 now," Jeff said, wrapping his arm around Harry's shoulders, "I still remember when you were twenty and my parents basically adopted you, I feel so old."

"You feel old? Imagine how I feel, that's my baby brother!" Gemma chimed in, entering your house with her boyfriend Michal and Anne, "Happy birthday, H."

"Thanks, Gem," Harry smiled, hugging his sister tightly. "And thanks for reminding everyone that I'm officially old now."

As more friends and family arrived, the laughter and chatter of loved ones filled the air, the dining table was adorned with candles, flowers, and a beautifully set dinner that everyone enjoyed.

Once your bellies were full, Mitch opened the champagne bottle Harry Lambert brought with him, filling everyone's glasses to make a toast.

"Alright, everyone, gather around," Mitch announced, holding up his glass, "To Harry, on his 30th birthday, may this year be filled with even more success and love. Cheers."

Everyone clicked their glasses, smiles on everyone's faces.

"I think the missus should give a speech!" Gemma teased, pointing at you.

"Not a missus yet, still no ring," you teased back, raising an eyebrow at Harry and hearing the whistles from his friends.

"Well, uh, maybe we'll have to do something about that soon." Harry chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his head.

The room erupted in laughter and even more whistles, and you couldn't help but blush and roll your eyes with affection.

"Alright, alright," you began, holding up your glass, "Here's to the man of the hour. Harry, you've filled my life with so much joy, laughter, and love all these years. It's been an incredible journey growing up with you, I still remember when we were just kids, celebrating your 16th birthday before you became the star that you are today, I'm so proud of you and living life by your side has been the best thing that has ever happened to me. Happy 30th birthday, my love. May this year bring you everything you desire."

Harry couldn't help but melt at your words, standing up and hugging you tightly and kissing your lips.

"Thank you, everyone," Harry began, his voice carrying a hint of nostalgia, "I can't believe I'm standing here, celebrating my 30th birthday. It feels like just yesterday I was a wide-eyed 16-year-old auditioning for The X Factor, not knowing what life had in store for me," he paused, glancing at each person in the room with watery eyes, "But here I am, and I couldn't be more grateful for each and every one of you. To my family, who has been there from the start, and to my friends who have become family. And to this incredible woman right here," Harry said, placing his hand on your waist, "who has been with me since I was I was an annoying teenager, growing up by my side."

"You're still as annoying as a teenager," Jeff interrupted him, making the entire room laugh, "But we love you, mate. And we're grateful for you."

As the night continued, the homemade cake adorned with candles was brought out, and everyone in the room sag "Happy Birthday" together, Harry made a wish and blew out the candles, surrounded by the people he loved the most.

After the cake-cutting and more chatter, everyone decided to call it a night and head home, leaving you and Harry at me comfort of your house.

"Thank you for everything," Harry whispered, wrapping his arms around you.

"It's your day, love. I'm just happy I could make it special for you," you replied, resting your head against his shoulder.

"You always make every day special," he murmured, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead.

You stood wrapped around each other for a few minutes, enjoying the final moments of his birthday.

"This has been one of my favorite birthdays ever," Harry admitted, breaking the comfortable silence.

"I'm glad you think so," you smiled, snuggling closer. "And, by the way, the 'no ring yet' comment earlier, totally just teasing."

"Oh, really? Because I was serious, maybe it's time," Harry smirked, giving you a playful look.

"Don't tell me you're about to propose, not on your own birthday, Harry!" you said nervously.

"Not right now love, but soon enough," he winked and you let out the breath you were holding, "I love you."

"I love you more, Harry. Happy birthday."

#harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles writing #harry styles fluff #harry styles fake instagram #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles headcanon #harry styles fic #harry styles au #harry styles fake social media #harry styles story #harrysfolklore #harry styles masterlist #harry styles fic rec #harry styles brithday #1k

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luveline · 11 months

Note

IM BEGGING ON MY KNEES PLEASEEEE 🔥🔥🔥 NOTICE MEEEE

Really quiet and shy reader who’s new to the team and Spencer JUST got out of prison like a month ago and he comes back and sees the cutest girl he’s ever seen so young and new to the team and can’t help but tease her

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASEEE🧎🏾‍♀️🧎🏾‍♀️🧎🏾‍♀️🙇🏽‍♀️🙇🏽‍♀️

Unit Chief Emily Prentiss scares the fuck out of you, but you're still not as intimidated by her as you are by Dr. Reid.

Dr. Reid, and not Special Supervisory Agent Reid —there's a big difference— shouldn't be a scary guy. He doesn't have any tattoos or piercings, his haircut is tame, and you watch him pour enough sugar into his coffee to weaken the enamel of your teeth just looking at it. But while all or this is true, Dr. Reid just came back from a weeks long stint in one of the most tense prisons in the world. Emily assured you in her way that everything bad you may have heard about Dr. Reid would be false, and that anything positive is true.

He looks different to how you'd pictured him. Emily's promise aside, Garcia painted him as some sweater-wearing Teddy bear of a boy who likes chess and Doctor Who.

This is a man. Full grown, full suit, dark-eyes. You're not sure what to feel as he spots you. When Anderson gave you the desk across from Spencer's you'd thought you were lucky, getting treated as part of the team from the very beginning, but now you're not so sure.

“Hey,” he says, eyes on you as he puts down his coffee atop a stack of medical journals. His things were left untouched while he was gone, even though he was technically separated from the bureau. He's well respected. “I've been excited to meet you. I'm Spencer.”

“Dr. Reid,” you say immediately, standing up from your chair to meet him besides your desks.

“Spencer,” he says again. “I don't shake.”

“Oh, no, of course not,” you say, hiding your hands behind your back. “I know you were here long before me, but I can safely say how nice it is to have you back.” You smile. “They were all so worried about you.”

“You kept them in line while I was gone?”

“No, I was useless. I've never felt this stupid in my life.”

“That's just how it feels for the first year.” He isn't smiling, isn't frowning, a hint of amusement in his eyes and hands steady as he tucks them into his pants pockets. “It's not the others, is it?”

“No, there's just a lot to learn.”

“It shouldn't be hard for you, though, right?” He gestures to you like this means something.

“I don't…”

“You're what, twenty four?” Spencer picks up his mug and takes a drink. “If you're smart enough to be here now, you'll be fine.”

“You think so?”

“Don't tell me you're scared, Y/N.” His lashes flare ever so slightly in feigned surprise. After a second of your obvious flustering, he laughs. “No, you don't scare easily. I can tell.”

Absolutely nothing like you told me he'd be, Penelope. I thought we were friends.

“So what was your last case like? The Bentley driver?” he asks, nodding toward your desk. “How's your peer reviews going? They used to drive me insane.”

You startle and rush to sit in your desk chair, opening the case file from the last case to gather his approval. He flicks through pages, almost non-committal, though he gives a hum of approval when he reads your UnSub summary, and when he sees a comment you'd made that you'd believed to be particularly astute, he laughs. “Yeah,” he says, “you'll be fine.” The smell of him floats your way, cologne or aftershave that makes you feel dizzy. He looks down at you. “Something wrong?”

“Nothing, uh–” You bite your tongue rather than answer and trip over another useless sentence.

He touches the top of your shoulder lightly. “It will get easier,” he promises.

He means work, of course, but for a split second you wonder if he means being near him. If he's like this often, you doubt that that's true.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader

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bluesidez · 5 months

Text

GymRat!Miguel Part 7

content warning: mentions of blood, some violence, FINALLY 18+ so MDNI, dry humping 😁, like a smidge of fluff, some Spanish (as always, correct me if I'm wrong)

word count: 2.3k (we're back with some sense)

Prev | Next ✩°｡ ⋆⸜ 🎧✮ Masterlist

Gabriel jumped as the grand doors slammed closed.

The room was quiet minus Kron groaning on the floor.

“I’m going to kill him!” he shouts, hand trying to cover his bloodied nose.

“If you try, you’ll be disowned,” Tyler frowned down at him. Gabriel had never seen him without a smile on his face. It was scary yet familiar. It was times like this that Gabriel was reminded that he and Miguel were different.

“Dad, are you fucking serious? He just assaulted me!” Kron cried in disbelief as Nancy tried her best to clean his face.

“It was nothing you didn’t deserve. Surely, you’re grateful that I pulled him away.”

“Tyler. Our son is hurt! And bleeding out on my expensive carpet,” Nancy bit back, snapping at a butler to bring her a health kit.

“My other son is also hurt,” Tyler replies with his voice even, looking at Nancy and Kron as if they’ve lost it.

Gabriel could see George tense up at Tyler’s acknowledgement of Miguel as his.

“All this time and effort spent on putting this whole thing together and for what? What did I gain?” Tyler said lowly as he took his glasses off.

“I’ve spent two decades raising you and the older you’ve gotten, the more you have disappointed me. Twenty years spending dollar after dollar on your schooling and wellbeing. Ten years of watching you grow. Ten more years of watching you drift and become someone I’m not sure I can even call mine. What happened to my boy? What have you done with him?”

Gabriel was outwardly wary of what would happen next. Internally though? He was bullet-pointing every dig.

His name wasn’t Gossip Gabriel for nothing.

He watched as Kron shook on the floor. A simple hangnail could probably make him breakdown.

“Almost two decades I’ve watched from the sidelines as my son grew up without me. I watched as another man took my place. I watched as my careless actions were formed into a son that I could not connect to, talk to, or even hold. So please, forgive me if the few times, no, the one time I have the opportunity to build that connection, I am furious that it is ruined by my eldest son and his entitlement.”

“Entitlement!? What entitlement? Every time I say something it’s wrong, but Miguel is all of a sudden this perfect son that you wish you had. I wasn’t the one that ran that girl away.”

“Watch it, boy,” Conchata hisses.

“No, you watch it!” Nancy snapped back.

“Silence!” Tyler’s voice boomed throughout the house. “What all of you fail to realize is that the special guests have been iced out of my home! Kron, I may not have been there for you at every moment, but I have never taught you to disrespect women like you’ve done tonight. You owe several apologies.”

“You cheated on mom to have a bastard baby.”

Gabriel only blinks as Tyler moves to hit Kron in the mouth. Just as fast as Miguel.

“And what your mother fails to tell you is that she cheated first. I am not perfect, but neither was she.”

“Escandaloso,” Gabriel leans over to whisper to Dana.

“It would be best for us to talk after you’ve gone to the hospital. Make haste, lest you make me angry, son,” Tyler says with venom-coated words.

Nancy, with help from one of the butlers, scrambled to get Kron up and out of the door.

Tyler took a deep breath and put his glasses back on. He turned to Conchata as started to unbutton his cufflinks.

“Conchata,” he said. “Level with me, what did you really not like about Miguel’s girlfriend tonight? I know you too well and her weight is not the problem. She’s beautiful, intelligent, talented, and we can both see that Miguel loves her.”

It was Conchata’s turn to look shocked. She looked around to everyone staring at her, waiting for a proper answer.

She stuttered trying to get her sentences out, “Why am I being held to the fire right now?”

“Ma, I’m not sure if you remember, but you quite literally criticized her body and expression,” Gabriel said. He was never afraid to step up to her when it came to Miguel, he just had to gauge how far he could go.

“I didn’t intend to do that,” Conchata starts.

“Honey, you stopped her from eating her food,” George chides. “It doesn’t get any worse than that.”

Conchata was silent as she sat back down, staring at the centerpiece, “I just-”

“No puedo creer que fueras tan grosera con ella, Conchata. Miguelito is right. You should be ashamed,” Gabriel’s abuela said. (I can’t believe you were so rude to her, Conchata.)

She got up and came to Conchata’s side, “You have fussed at him all his life. Nothing he did was ever good enough for you. You can not choose now to try and control him.”

“Tyler, can you have someone take me back home? Oh! And pack me one of those yummy cherries too,” she said as she gave him a hug and a pat on the cheek. She then proceeded to give everyone a goodbye but her daughter.

“I truly apologize for this hectic night,” Tyler announced to the room. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go see how I can make this up to Miguel. You all can use my home however you need.”

Gabriel cleared his throat now that he was left in a room with his parents and Dana, “Well. Did you guys like the meal?”

“I thought the filet mignon was fabulous,” Dana replied.

They leaned together and giggled.

Gabriel had a lot to spill to Miguel.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

You wake up unbelievably warm, the bed sheets piled on top of you. You lift your head from the thick pillow, and waited as the AC hit your face.

Sun was coming in through the cracks of the drapes. It was all quiet except for the light snore coming from Miguel’s side of the bed.

You turn to him and he’s out from under the covers, bare muscly back to the world. You swallow around nothing as you watch the ripples of his muscles move with his breath.

Who knew you were going to wake up to this delicious sight?

You move quietly, shuffling to the bathroom to pee and freshen up. You felt miles better than you did last night. You felt even better as the memories come back to you. Your boyfriend really took a stand for you.

When you walk out the bathroom, you don’t expect Miguel to be sitting up on the edge of the bed, bed head and sleepy eyes.

“Are you up? I didn’t mean to wake you,” you say, voice light and soft.

“I moved over and you weren’t there,” Miguel yawned. “Couldn’t go back to sleep ‘till I found out where you went.”

You shuffle to his side of the bad, “Just went to the bathroom.”

He opened his legs and pulled you in. He laid his head on your chest, kissing the skin through the fabric as placed his hands on your ass.

“G’morning,” he said, voice scratchy.

“Morning to you too,” you said while scratching his head.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, peering up at you.

You give him a small smile, “I’m feeling better.”

“Yeah?”

You nod your head, bringing your hands to the nape of his neck. You twirl your finger is his hair absentmindedly.

He puckers his lips, waiting expectantly. You giggle and lean down pecking his lips.

GymRat!Miguel who hurries and brushes his teeth, wanting to continue this mood. You were rocking one of his shirts and some panties. He still wanted to see if the offer from last night was still up.

GymRat!Miguel who crowds your space on the bed, hovering over you as he kisses your lips. He’s feeling particularly ravenous and all he wants is you. Your grip on his shoulders becomes tighter as he slots his tongue in your mouth.

GymRat!Miguel who is definitely a virgin. Sure, he spent his free time researching how to make you feel good. He even shyly asked Peter for advice. It still doesn’t negate the fact that he has put none of these things to use.

He pauses as things start to get even more heated, sharing this news with you. You’re a little shocked but you promise him it’s fine to take it slow. You have never done penetrative sex with anyone either. Feeling more relaxed, he dives right back in.

GymRat!Miguel who has you grinding above him. Your clothed sex slides against his, two layers of cotton separating you both. You’re whining against mouth as he moves your hips. He’s humming at every noise you make.

As much as he wants to go further, he has a need to fulfill your desire first.

Plus, he was dumb enough not to bring a condom.

He opens his mouth to take a nipple in through your sweater. It’s thick, but he sucks hard enough to get the job done. He watches as you tilt your head back and moan loader, hips stuttering.

Miguel watches you in awe. He’s never seen you like this before. So needy for him. It was a contrast to how you usually let him take, take, take.

He moves quick to lay you on top of him, finally getting his dream of you over him.

“Miguel?” you ask, wary of your weight.

“Nuh uh, baby keep going. Don’t stop,” Miguel says, swerving your hip along his.

You fall down from a sharp buck of Miguel’s hips, moaning from the friction and holding your hands against the headboard.

Miguel was in heaven watching you roll your hips faster and faster.

GymRat!Miguel who flips you over as soon as you come. He is grinding better against as you lay on your back. Your tits ate bouncing under his sweater with every jerk. He wanted to take it off, but you were still a bit self-conscious.

For now, it was fine because you looked so good in his clothes, nipples hard and ready just for him to devour. In the future, he hoped to have you see how beautiful you are in his eyes.

You’re sensitive, thighs tightening around his waist. He softly moves one of them, gaining better access for his bulge to slide against your clothed clit.

“Miguel!” you cry, voice high.

“Give me another one, come on,” he says, mouth moving to your ear. “You’re doing so good. Just need one more.”

He feels you nod your head, arms wrapping around his neck.

You yell his name as you come again, thighs shaking.

GymRat!Miguel who comes through his underwear on top of you. He pulls your sweater up a tad to watch some liquid pool on your stomach.

“Fuck,” he heaves, smearing it with his thumb. You were fluttering against him softly.

You were laid out under him coming down from your high. Your breaths were slowing down and you were looking at him, blissed out.

This was better than his dream.

He rubbed up and down your bare thighs, watching as they twitched when he grazed your inner thighs. He walked his fingers down to your panties, running his knuckles over your mound. The fabric was wet, evidence of what you two just did.

He starts to pull the fabric tight, watching as your folds imprint through the cotton.

What a pretty sight. Your body so open with his cum on your smooth skin.

Mine. All mine.

He’s about to press against your clit again until you say something.

“Huh?” Miguel asks, in a daze.

“I asked if you could go get a wet towel,” you say.

“Shit. I’m so sorry, baby,” he says, frantic movements as he hobbled out of the bed. He was acting like an idiot, gawking at you instead of talking.

GymRat!Miguel who realizes that he put you both in a sticky situation as he wipes your stomach off.

“It’s fine. ‘Was hot,” you whisper, completely flushed.

“Yeah? You liked it?” Miguel asked, giddy.

You nod your head, “You made me feel really good, so yes, I did like it.”

“Is that so?” Miguel mumbles, leaning close to your face. “Might have to do more next time.”

“More? Like what?”

“Like finally getting you to sit on my face,” he says in your ear. He finally got you to put your weight on him, all he needed was that final push.

“Oh my god,” you drone, covering your face dramatically.

“What? Baby, it’ll be so fun! I promise!”

GymRat!Miguel who finally checks his phone while you both wait on room service.

Abuela 💕:

“Miguelito!”

“Call me when you can!”

“dile a mi muñeca que mi casa es su casa!” (tell my doll that my home is her home)

“And I don’t want any new grandbabies so soon so control yourself”

Pa:

“Miguel I hope you can forgive your mother”

“She needs some time”

“I’ll be sure to talk to her”

“It was also lovely to meet your girlfriend”

“I’m proud of you mijo”

Gabri 🤏🏽🤡:

“Bro”

“You missed SO MUCH!”

“BDHDHDHDJEBE”

“I wish I could have streamed it”

“Tyler SWUNG KRON’S BODY TO THE SIDE….”

“Ok no but fr”

“It’s def confirmed that you’re Tyler’s favorite 🤷🏽‍♂️”

“Kron got socked in the mouth by Tyler”

“That’s def where you get your punches from ngl”

“OMG”

“Did you know that Nancy cheated on Tyler first?”

“Crazy. Ik. You don’t have to say anything”

“Anyway”

“Tell my girl I said gn 😁 her breakfast in bed will be waiting on her”

Dana:

“Your dad’s kinda hot”

“Tyler not George”

“But you know who’s hotter?”

“Your gf”

“Give her my number. Plz and ty”

Dad….Tyler:

“Son I sincerely apologize for this terrible evening.”

“Kron will be reprimanded. No need to worry about that. You only taught him a valuable lesson in reality.”

“If I can, may I make it up to you?”

“I added a few more days to the hotel.”

“And my doors are, of course, always open to you.”

“Please reach out to me soon.”

Ma:

“Miguel please come home”

“I need to talk to you”

divider by: @plutism + @benkeibear 🩵

a/n: AHHH! If you're reading this, then this (hopefully) means that I have finished and turned in my Senior Thesis 🥺. As a gift, please tell me you how you feel. You guys have been so kind to me on here, so I hope you enjoy today's chapter. There are more great things coming soon!

taglist: @ghost-lantern @miguelhugger2099 @slushycoookie @emelie-s-h @lake-lili

@obsessed-with-miguels-ass @scaleniusrm @superiorspiderass @lexluvswriting

@flordelalunas @froggygal @vmpz8sauceee @famouscattale @nixinluv02

@jada-of-arcadia @spideykid22 @what-the-jams @julia4today @tojishugetiddies

@samjinxx @sleeklyalisha @the-pan-liquid @prongs-lover @kikaaauu

@urlocallocachica @wanderlustingcastaway @peachey-pie @ch3rry-bl1ss @girl-of-multi-fandoms

@love-kha1 @manlikemilesmyguy @sillysillygoofygoose @monticellohoe @kodzuminx

@lauraolar14 @bruhhvv @m4dyy @farrowroyale @cl3stevu

@ohara-whore @muneca-lemon-steppa @alexa4040 @amelialysm @snails-doodles22

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alexsnerdycorner · 22 days

Text

Touchy-Feely

Title: Touchy Feely

Word Count: 3011

Warning: Smut, Swearing, Unprotected sex, a bit of an age gap, talk of attempted incestuous rape (one sentence). Bisexual Charles and logan. AFAB reader, dirty talk (so sorry for horrible it is), Oral sex, P in V sex, Anal (Male receiving), Praise kink, multiple female orgasms,

Fandom: X-Men movies / Marvel

Pairing: Charles Xavier X Fem!Reader X Logan

Rating: Mature

Summary: This is based on a request I got from my old fandom blog. I’ve rewritten it, added smut, and edited it. The reader (F) has the ability to make people aroused on contact (much like Alisha from Misfits) and to manipulate others emotions, memories, and more. This is post Days of Future Past, but Charles still has hair and ability to use his lower body because it made sense for the story.

A/N: I had a difficult time rewriting this as I had an ex named Chaz, which is short for Charles/Charlie and he graped me. I’ve always loved Charles Xavier and I’m trying not to let the grapist get to me, but sometimes I am unsuccessful. I hate myself for letting things go so far as to “allow” him to do this to me. But I kinda flinch every time I hear his name or variations of it. Also, this is my first time writing a threesome. Please don’t judge it that harshly.

You discovered your powers five years ago when you turned seventeen and went on a date to prom and your boyfriend’s best friend asked for a dance. This led to him trying to drag you to the bathroom to fuck you. That was when you found out that you could make anyone feel aroused just by touching them. Your boyfriend of the time broke up with you because there was no way he’d be seen dating a mutant freak. You knew for sure you were a mutant when your father tried to comfort you that night and wiped the tears from your eyes and tried to undress you. Luckily your mother was home to drag him off.

You were angry, and wished that he knew better. Better yet, you wished that he would try to burn his hand off. A moment later your father turned on the stove and stuck his hand over the burner, catching his hand on fire. That was when you found out you also had the ability to influence people’s actions and thoughts.

After that, your parents sent you away to Charles Xavier’s school for mutants, or, the nicer way to put it, gifted individuals. Charles took you in out of the goodness of his heart, as he would with any other mutant. You never told him of the embarrassing powers of eroticism, only of your ability to manipulate other’s emotions, actions, and memories. Your first week at his school after Bobby Drake pushed past you and accidentally touched your hand, you had to forcibly push him off you. He didn’t know any better so you altered his memory of the situation. But you were still so visibly upset that the professor, who was ten years older than you, tried to comfort you, you stumbled back to avoid his touch. But were unsuccessful, able to tell how aroused he was by the look in his eyes.

You then confided in him about your true powers and afterward made sure that the other students knew not to touch you, claiming you had a power similar to Rogue’s. Charles always took special interest in you and allowed you to stay at the mansion over the holidays and summers when all the other students went home. You grew to like and desire him, but were too scared to say anything because he was your mentor, but suspected he to had feelings for you. Eventually, you had graduated and became a full-fledged member of the X-Men.

While there, another man also took interest in you, Logan. He was a good-looking man with large muscles and claws made of adamantium. You could feel a lapse in his memories and tried to work with him to get them back. All attempts made were unsuccessful.

Today, you had pretty good control over your powers and it was a few days until your twenty-first birthday. Everyone was on vacation for the start of the holidays leaving you, Charles, and Logan alone in the mansion. You woke happy to get some peace and quiet for once instead of having to deal with students and teaching. You spent the whole day reading for your leisure in the library, but not long before dinner time, you went back to your room to change as Charles requested that you join him for dinner. You put on an alarmingly short dress for your taste that hugged all the right curves.

When you arrived in the dining room Charles sat at the table with your favorite meal in front of the two set seats. You wondered why logan wasn’t joining the two of you.

“Logan is out for the night,” Charles said, looking up through his scraggly brown hair. He paused a moment as you tried to hide a frown, “Good evening, Y/N”

“Hi, Charles,” you smiled at him and sat next to him. You made small talk as you ate dinner.

“Oh, Y/N, I have something for you on the kitchen counter. Would you be a doll and go get it.”

“Really?” your eyes glowed with excitement as you stood and walked to the kitchen. On the island counter sat a small cake iced with the words Happy Birthday Y/N and next to it was a small black velvet box with a white ribbon tied neatly around it. Below your breath, you gasped, “What?”

“Open it,” Charles whispered in your mind.

You smiled and shook your head, “Charles, get out of my head.”

You walked back out into the dining room with the box in your hand.

He had a big stupid grin on his face that you just wanted to kiss away, “Just open it.”

You carefully untied the bow and pulled the top back a bit roughly because the hinges on it stuck. You gasped when you saw what was on the inside of the box. With a huge smile, you took the small necklace into your fingers and examined it. It was in the shape of an infinity sign but with hearts on each end. Beautiful red crystals lined the pendant.

“Oh my god, Charles, it is so beautiful!” you looked up at him, “Thank you so much!” you walked over to him, “would you put it on me?”

He smiled, “of course.”

You handed him the necklace and pulled your hair out of the way. He put the necklace over your head and as he clasped it in the back, his fingers ran across the top of your back. He jerked his hands away and cleared his throat, “I’m so sorry, y/n”

You forgot how much you longed for human contact until now. You turned around and shaking your head, you looked him in the eye, “No, it...it felt good.” You could tell it felt good to him too, his face was beet red and he was taking deep breaths, trying to cover up how aroused he was from your powers. “I forgot how nice the human touch could be.”

You could see that he felt embarrassed for touching you, he had the same face as he did in his office that day he first touched you.

“You know, I am an adult. I’m not that young girl whose hand you touched in your office years ago. I’m different. I have more control.”

He smiled, “I know. You have, uh,” he cleared his throat, “definitely changed. In more ways than one.”

Your desire for him grew with every passing second. You could tell his was too.

“Do it again.”

“What?” Charles asked.

“Do it again. Touch me. I want you to touch me. It feels nice.”

“Y/N, I... I don’t want to take advantage of you like that...I-”

“Charles!” You interrupted. He stopped rambling and looked at you. “I like you a lot. I’m old enough to make my own choices. I know you like me too.”

“But, Y/N…”

“Charles, shut up,” you leaned forward and kissed him on the lips.

He put his hand on the back of your head and kissed you back harder. You straddled him in his chair.

Charles broke the kiss, “Logan’s going to be here any minute.”

“I don’t care,” you kissed him hungrily.

“He’s going to walk in on us,” Charles said between kisses.

“Good, let him. Maybe he’ll join us.”

Charles laughed into your lips and pulled your body closer to his, “God, you are so beautiful.”

“So are you,” you rubbed against him, humping his lap. He stood up, pushed his plate across the table, and set you on the dining room table and stood between your legs. You could feel him hard against you as he kissed you back harder, pushing his body against your own and let his hands wander.

“You have no clue how long I’ve waited for this. How much I’ve dreamed of this” Charles said as you trailed kisses down his neck. He let out a soft grunt.

“I do know. Who do you think put those dreams there to begin with” you slid his tweed jacket off him and tossed it onto the floor.

He let out a breathy laugh, “You sly little minx” and smiled into your kiss.

He traveled his hands up the skirt of your dress as you loosened his tie and unbuttoned his dress shirt. You could feel the heat between you and Charles. His tongue danced with yours. His hand slid on the inside of your upper thigh. You let out a soft moan of ecstasy. He grabbed at the hem of your dress and slid it over your head and threw it behind him. In your bra and panties, you slid his shirt off his lean and slightly muscular body as he marveled at the sight of you.

Charles made out with you some more before you moved your hands from his chest to his belt. You fiddled with the belt blindly as you were too enthralled in Charles to look down. As he slid his hand over the small of you back to the hem of your panties, you slid the belt off him, tossed it aside, and went back to his zipper and button.

Charles’ hand was at the clasp of your bra when you heard a deep and growling throat being cleared from the doorway.

“Come on, we eat on that table!” you pulled away from Charles’ lips, a small trail of saliva still hooking your lips together, and leaned your head on his shoulder. You saw Logan leaning on the door frame, trying to overt his eyes. But you saw what was truly in his eyes. Lust.

Charles looked up and saw Logan as well. You felt his hands travel down to button his pants back up, but you stopped him with one hand and announced, “We will take it to the bedroom. Under one condition”

“What’s that?” Logan asked, mostly to humor you.

“Join us,” You hopped off the table and stood in front of him. His throat bobbed as he tried to show restraint. You reach out to touch him, forgetting about your powers for a moment but caught yourself before you make contact. You drop your hand, “Please”

“He wants to, I can hear his thoughts. He wants it bad. Nearly as bad as you want him.” Charles interrupted, trying to make you feel better about almost touching Logan without consent.

“Stay outta my head, Charles,” Logan did not break eye contact with you.

“Is it true?” You whisper.

Logan growled again, but this time it was a different type of growl. It was a growl filled with want and desire. He reached out his hand and grabbed yours, he took your open hand and placed it on his hardening bulge, “Princess, I’ve wanted you from the first moment I laid eyes on you.”

Your lustful smile grew and you kissed him with a hard, deep, passionate kiss, “Then join us in the bedroom”

He swept you off your feet and turned to Charles, “Comin’ handsome?”

Charles’ eyes lit up like a Christmas tree. And he followed Logan who led them to Charles’ bedroom. Once the door was shut behind the three of you, Logan lightly tossed you onto the bed and gave you one last kiss before taking his shirt off his body in one swoop.

Logan turned to Charles, “What’re ya waiting for? An invitation? The lady wants us naked. I don’t need to be a mind reader to tell you that.”

Charles stood there for a second too long for Logan’s liking so he stalked over to a stammering Charles, kissed him, and started to undo his zipper to his pants. Logan pushed down Charles’ pants and Charles stepped out of them, leaving him in his underwear. Charles closed his eyes and kissed Logan back as Logan backed them both up to where you sat on Charles’ bed. They pulled apart and looked at you. Heat rushed to your face and to your core.

“See something you like?” Charles spoke up while maintaining eye contact with you.

“I see two things,” You sat up in the bed and drew the both of them close to you. First you kissed Charles, then you kissed Logan. Your hands moved down to Logan’s jeans and unbuttoned and unzipped them. Charles took his pants and yanked them down revealing a large growing bulge in Logan’s underwear.

“Charles, I think Logan sees something he likes as well.” You smirked up at the men.

“I see two things,” Logan said. And pulled you so you were sitting on the edge of the bed. He knelt down in front of you and hooked a finger around your panties. While maintaining eye contact with you, he said, “I can smell how wet you are,”

Charles leaned down to kiss you while Logan slid off your panties and tossed them aside. Logan removed your bra with one hand. You took Charles’ boxers and pulled them down and then took his cock into your hand. You started to jerk him off. With your other hand you reached down to Logan’s head which found its way between your legs. His hands were on your thighs and he began licking your clit in a circular motion.

“Oh fuck, Logan,” you swore, lowering your head to Charles’ cock. You took Carles into your mouth and ran your tongue over the head. This elicited a groan from Charles. You moaned against his cock in approval.

Logan continued to suck at your clit as Charles took one of his hands and placed it behind your head to stoke your hair. You saw Logan reach down, remove his boxers, and pump his cock twice before returning one hand to your thigh and the other to your slit. He slowly worked one finger into your dripping cunt. You mewled with Charles’ cock still in your mouth. You pulled at Logan’s hair as he added another finger. You felt a building tightness in your core.

You took Charles out of your mouth and moaned for both men to hear, “I’m close. I’m so fucking close.”

“Come for him darling,” Charles moaned as you continued to stroke his cock, “Come for him like the good girl I know you are”

With that you let out a loud moan that reverberated throughout the room. Logan added one last finger to your pussy and you came undone, clenching his head between your thighs.

“Oh, fuck, Logan!” You shouted. Logan removed his head from your thighs and looked up at Charles.

“Come down here and taste her on my lips,” he commanded. Charles followed the orders given to him and pulled his cock from your hands to kneel next to Logan. He took Logan’s member into his hands and kissed him on the lips. Logan’s hand rested on your knee while the other held the back of Charles’ head. Still recovering from your first orgasm, you watched for a moment as Charles and Logan made out.

Charles pulled away from Logan and turned to you, “You want a taste?” he asked.

You slowly nodded your head and leaned forward to meet his lips. You tasted your sweet juices on his lips and groaned, “I need you inside me, now.”

Charles looked to Logan.

“Give the princess what she wants, bub.” Logan broke their connection and stood up. Charles followed suit and stared while Logan commanded you go on your knees.

“All yours, Charles,” Logan whispered, “Get on the bed.”

Charles followed the instructions and knelt on the bed behind you. He guided his cock into your still wet cunt and drove all the way into you, causing you gasp. Charles bent over and kissed your back.

Logan moved from his place in front of you to behind Charles, “God, you two are so beautiful.”

While Charles moved in an out of you at an agonizingly slow pace, Logan worked on getting Charles’ ass ready for him. Both men were well endowed and Logan especially had girth to his cock. When Logan’s first finger made its way into Charles’ ass, Charles jumped a bit, not expecting it. But gasped in pleasure when he added a second finger.

“Y/N, You’re so fucking good. You are taking me so well, love.” Charles whimpered.

You moaned as he nipped the back of your neck. He picked up the pace and began slamming into you all the way down to his balls. You felt the bed sink down behind the two of you and logan was undoubtedly lining himself up at Charles’ entrance. When you didn’t think that Charles could go any deeper, you let out a ragged breath when Logan pushed into Charles which made Charles push further into you.

The three of you moved in unison. You could hear Logan and Charles moan and groan and kiss. You felt yourself approaching climax. The knot in your stomach grew and grew.

“Fuck, Charles, I’m gonna cum,” You sputtered.

“Come for us, princess” Logan ground out.

You felt your walls clenching onto Charles’ cock and you moaned out, “Oh fuck, you feel so good!”

With the next few thrusts into you, you felt the knot burst and you came undone. With a grunt, Charles’ thrusts were becoming erratic and uneven.

“I’m close,” he panted and was next to come. He stayed, pushing his cum further into your pussy and moaning with pleasure. The bed creaked with Logan’s thrusting.

“I’m almost there,” Logan cried out. And with a few more thrusts he came into Charles’ ass with a howl.

Logan pulled out of Charles who then pulled out of you. The two men then situated themselves on the bed so that you were between them. You could feel sleep calling your name.

***

You woke up in the morning lodged between a hairy Logan and a snoring Charles. Neither of your companions were wearing shirts while their lower half remained covered by the sheet. You were wearing nothing but the sheet. You dared not wake them, so you stayed put, staring up at the ceiling with the sun shining in on your face.

#fanfic #smut #x reader #xmen #xmen smut #logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #charles xavier x reader #charles xavier smut #logan howlet smut #wolverine x reader #charles x logan x reader #charles xavier x logan x reader #marvel smut #deadpool and wolverine #wolverine smut #professor x

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enwoso · 2 months

Text

PROUD OF YOU — alessia russo x gymnast!reader

little psa i’m not an expert in the format of gymnastics by any means, this is just from my knowledge. so if anything isn’t correct i apologise🙃

this was supposed to be a blurb from the same universe as number one fan but i got carried away and it turned out being 3k words… ENJOY!

read number one fan here

masterlist

you felt like your entire life had led up to this moment in your life, your first olympics. twenty four years old and you were fulfilling something only your eight year old self could imagine.

you remember watching the beijing olympics more specifically the gymnastics and you knew that was what you wanted to do, even if it wasn't to win while that would be an added bonus, just being there was special and something not everyone could say they had done.

you had spent weeks, actually months in the gym. endless amount of hours spent perfecting your routines and making sure they were perfect and showcased all of your best tricks.

however it was slightly bittersweet as even though you were training for your first ever olympic which was being held in paris, it had meant you had been away from your girlfriend, alessia russo for quite some time now.

only being able to see each other on the odd weekend when you were not training and she didn't have a match, an even still those days came far and few.

but still your relationship was as strong as ever and it meant the time you did spent together was cherished and never taken for granted.

you and alessia had been officially dating for a year now and how the two of you had met was in the weirdest way possible.

you first met when you were in london and you so happened to be in the same coffee shop, alessia with her clumsiness fell over the leg of your chair sending herself and her coffee flying across the room.

you immediately apologising thinking it was your fault when really it was just alessia and her two left feet. you couldn't help but be mesmerised by how gorgeous she was but the blonde had dashed out the coffee shop in shear embarrassment before you had the chance to get another sentence out never mind ask the blonde for her name.

the second time you met was funnily enough in a gym in kent just a couple weeks afterwards, that being your hometown but also alessia's. you knew it was the same blonde girl, how could anyone forget such a beautiful face.

you were the one that spoke to the blonde first, alessia of course having no idea who you were and not remembering you. her face only flushing when you mentioned her going flying in a coffee shop, alessia found it relaxing that you didn't have a clue who she was.

not recognising her for her football but instead just because she was a person. you never forget how shy she was as she kept stumbling over her words when she spoke to you.

as you both stood talking in the gym locker rooms, alessia stuttering out asking for you number when you were just about to leave. from that day you went on a couple dates, actually discovering who she was and what she did day to day and from then the two of of you had been in your own little love bubble.

those who were important knew about your relationship, the media had it's suspicions but you nor alessia ever confirmed the rumours that circulated.

"what's with the gloomy face" alice kinsella nudged you as you took of your head phones. alice being one of your closest friends in the team, she'd helped you a lot in the running to the olympics, herself already being an olympian helped as she had been able to settle your nerves.

a sad smile was on your face as you looked down at the text message alessia had just sent you, wishing you good luck and that she be watching. you not having a clue she meant literally.

you had it in your head that alessia wasn't going to be at the qualifiers, her schedule didn't line up and she had just finished her qualification matches for the euros next year and she had just flown out to spend a few days in ibiza with her friends.

she told you that if you wanted her to be there for the qualifying round she would be and she'd get an earlier flight from ibiza just for you but you had promised her it was fine and that she should enjoy her time with her friends as your girlfriend had promised you that she would be at the next round as she herself was more than confident you would qualify.

"just missing lessi" you mumbled, texting a quick reply before putting your phone down as alice nodded her head she understood, it was hard being away from those you love.

"i'm sure she's watching, just make her proud yeah" alice smiled as she nudged her shoulder into you again, a little harder this time as she held a smug smile. it drawing a smile from you as you shook your head at your friends childishness.

alice moving away to focus on getting herself in the right mindset as the competition was just about to begin, you slipping your head phones back in your head as you carried on the stretch.

the competition was everything you could have dreamt of, your first piece of apparatus was vault where you were up first your score being 13.833 which you were happy with, the next rotation came around and it was bars a piece of apparatus you were a little bit more comfortable on but a small mistake cost you a few marks but your score ended on a 12.833.

the third rotation was beam a peice of apparatus which was always daunting and slightly scary. it never got easier competing on beam but the routine went smoothly and your score came in at 13.500.

the final rotation was here and team gb were looking good for qualifying for team final, the last apparatus was floor and with a small step out the floor markings cost you but your final score came in at 12.466.

you had done your bit for the team and for your country. taking in every second of the competition the pure euphoria of being there knowing it would hit later on when you were trying to sleep. right now you were focused, praying the team would qualify for the team final.

just alice was left to do her routine on the floor and then you would know if you had qualified, it all felt in slow motion. she did her last move, stood tall and presented to the judges. coming off the floor and down the steps as you waited for her score.

you nervously looked towards the score board waiting for alice’s score to come through, standing next to your teammates as the judges took their time deliberating their decision.

12.733.

team gb were on to the team final, qualifying in seventh with a total score of 160.830.

you stood in shock of a second before turing to ruby and abigail. engulfing them in a three way hug as you were all in a similar position this was your first time at an olympics. “we did it!” you called out into the hug as a smile bigger than ever was on your face.

you moved over to congratulate alice, not only on the team final but also the all around final she had made. “well done alice!” you grinned wrapping your arms around her, hugging her tight.

“you too kid, your first ever all around final!” she smiled proudly as you froze. you hadn’t made an all around final. what did she mean.

“what-?” you stutter out as she pointed to the score board which was currently going through the gymnasts which had made the final.

“there look you goon!” alice pointed to where your name was, number 24. you had just qualified for the all around.

“oh my god” you couldn’t believe it, you turned to the crowd trying to spot your mum and dad who had been there watching. you waving up proudly as you held up a heart to them. turning back to alice who was still facing the crowd.

“y/n, look your mum wants you”

you hummed before turning around to look where your mum was in the crowd, her pointing towards someone next to her. your eye line following her pointing, looking up and finding their face.

“oh my god” you whispered yelled, your mouth wide open. your were lost for words but also had so many questions at the same time. how was she here? why was she not sat in the hot spanish sun?

“told you she’d be watching!” alice nudged you a smug smile, you knew maybe somehow she had something to do with her being sat in the audience watching but you didn’t care how little or how big involvement she had, you just wanted to be in your girlfriend’s arms.

“i- what- how”

“oh go and get your girl, you sap!”

the arena had already started to empty, so you found the nearest staircase you could making your way through the crowds of people still in your navy blue sparkly leotard and your slides. you smile getting bigger as you edged closer to being back in your blondes arms.

saying a hello and giving a hug to your parents as they congratulate you and told you how proud of you they were as you could see alessia stood waiting for you to get to her.

finally your mum let go of hugging you pushing you lightly towards your girlfriend, you sinking into her arms as you held onto the blonde tightly as if, if you let go she would be gone forever.

“i’ve missed you so much baby” alessia whispered into your hair as she placed a kiss on the top of your head. you couldn’t find the words to say to her, you had to much to say but nothing would come out of your mouth.

“i- how are you here? i swear you were in ibiza this morning when you called?” you looked up to her as her hands rested on your shoulders, as your were still wrapped around her torso.

“i’ve been here since last night, my flight was supposed to be this morning but i got an earlier one just so i could make it here” alessia explained but you were still confused as even though you only saw her in what looked to be the background of a hotel, you still remember seeing ella on the facetime call — so how was that possible?

“but you were with ella this morning?” you questioned, a slight crease in your forehead as a confused look took over your face.

“she’s in paris too, so is mary cause she’s just moved to psg” alessia continued explaining, you humming along but not having a clue about football but you knew that psg was a football team but that was about it.

“well i’m glad your here!”

“you didn’t really think i would miss the chance to watch my girlfriend compete in her first olympics!” alessia questioned as you rolled your eyes playfully. “and seeing you in this is a bonus too” the blonde held a cheeky smile as she looked down towards the stoned navy blue leotard you were wearing.

you slapping her chest lightly as she acted false hurt, you were stood face to face with your girlfriend and the one thing you wanted to do was plant your lips on hers, but you couldn’t not when there was stray eyes around.

not knowing who had a camera, and while you didn’t care about what media had to say. you didn’t want to be headlining at your first olympics for that reason if you could help it.

your parents had already left, you were meeting them for dinner later on in the day. “c’mon” you pulled your way out of alessia’s hold before dragging her down the stairs her hand held tightly in yours.

small complaints by the blonde that she was gonna fall, which didn’t surprise you, as you led her back down the tunnel in the arena and towards the small changing room where the rest of your team was.

you stopped once you were in the tunnel, allowing alessia’s arm to have a break as she’d been complaining you were gonna pull it out its socket, you were no where near she was just being dramatic.

you turned to look at the blonde as she placed her arms round your shoulder, there being a slight height difference between the two of you. she obviously being the taller one, only by a few inches though.

“forgot to tell you how proud i am of you” alessia smiles as you could feel your cheeks going darker. something about anyone telling you how proud they were of you always had an affect on your heart but her telling you was enough to make your knees weak.

the two of you had stopped again, this time you were only a mere few meters from the changing room, “my little olympian” her breath fanned warm over your lips as her face was inches away from you as she had backed you up against the wall.

you had been craving this moment, you had been away from her for so long but a need was now blooming deep inside your bones. a need to be pressed flush against her.

“kiss me then” you said a little bossy as you could feel her teasing you with how not only your bodies where but also how close your lips were.

alessia smirked slightly, bending her head and using her hand that has crept up to rest on your neck to pull you in and close her mouth over yours. the kiss was soft and slow, a gentle drag of her lips over yours. the sweet and languid stroke of her tongue when you opened your mouth and angled in closer.

the tips of her fingers grazed your jaw and then she was cupping your cheeks as your back was now pushed so you were leant completely against the cold wall in the corridor. tugging lightly at your bottom lip before returning to kiss you.

heat tricked thick like honey down your spine, your hands fisting the material of her expensive white top as you tugged her impossibly closer before you wound your arms around her waist.

you didn’t want to stop kissing her. you wanted to stay in the moment forever, you wanted to keep swallowing the sound she was making low in her throat until you were dizzy off it.

“i’ve found her!” you both pulled back as you glared at your teammates as she stood in the door way clearly on her way to find you but not needing to go as far as she thought, a teasing smile resting on her face.

alice had dragged you back into the changing room telling you to hurry as most of the girls were ready and that they were just waiting on you.

pecking alessia’s lips quickly you reluctantly left her hold, dawdling into the changing room to get changed alessia following close behind you.

alessia had been talking with the girls as a catch up while you got changed coming back out in shorts and a little top while represented how hot it currently was in paris.

your girlfriend sat in your cubby, you found a seat on her lap. alessia hands immediately finding there place on your lower back and thighs rubbing small circles in your thighs as she smiled at you, your teammates finishing up getting ready for the coach trip back to the olympic village.

"are you here for the entire comp?" you asked alessia as she grinned nodding her head, you pressing another kiss to the blondes lips as you heard the gags come from your teammates.

turning your head you see the teasing sickening look on the girls' face doing it just to wind you up. you rolling your eyes at them. "abi, ruby cover your ears for a second!" alice said as you sighed knowing she was going to say something she definitely shouldn't.

"thank god for them anti-sex beds in the village!" alice snickered as you flipped her off turning your attention back to your blonde lover whose hands had not left your lower back as she traced small patterns.

alessia sat with a smug smile on her face too, "she's so annoying" you grumbled resting your head on alessia's shoulder.

"good job we don't need a bed.." alessia trailed off as she whispered in your ear, your face going bright red as she kissed your cheek, her lips lingering near your skin for a split second before she whispered "i love you, and i'm so proud of you!"

#alessia russo x y/n #alessia russo x reader #alessia russo #woso community #woso x reader #woso #woso imagine #woso blurbs #awfc #arsenal women #arsenal wfc #england wnt #england women #enwoso

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seravphs · 1 year

Text

ੈ♡˳·˖✶ — MIYA OSAMU x FEM READER

On a bad day, Onigiri Miya becomes your new comfort restaurant. Not only is the food good, but the man who takes your orders is always kind. You think the Miya you’ve been venting to on the phone is the same Miya who shows up at your door to deliver all of your orders.

It’s too bad you don’t know there’s two of them.

wc — 2k

tags — fluff, romcom, miscommunication, miserable corporate girl x small business owner who teaches her joy

The email doesn’t even do you the courtesy of being short. They make you read through two whole paragraphs before you get to the point of it all in the final sentence.

Your termination is effectively immediately.

You sit back in your chair to allow yourself a moment to take it in. It’s…not terrible, all things considered.

You get to leave this job that you hate. They’ll pay you severance. You have enough savings to be comfortable for the next few months.

It might even a blessing.

But it still doesn’t feel good. You worked hard to land this, and now you’ll have to start all over again. Change is always hard, especially when you haven’t asked for it.

You look at the clock. It’s currently 8:30 in the morning. You’re giving yourself exactly twenty four hours to wallow, and then it’s back to business.

First things first - a good meal. Food always make everything better, and you really deserve something special today. For a moment, you entertain the idea of calling your friends over to get breakfast somewhere fancy, but then you remember -

They’re all at work.

Where you would be, if you hadn’t just been let go.

That does sting a little, so maybe you’re not as okay as you thought you were. Hurriedly pushing those thoughts to the side in favor of scrolling through your options, a plain blue banner catches your eye.

Onigiri Miya, it reads.

Japanese comfort food. Family owned.

When you click on the link, it takes you to a page that’s as simple as it’s name. It’s just a menu and a series of pictures, but it’s what you need right now. Your head hurts. You don’t have the capacity to deal with anything more.

You want something straightforward and easy to digest. Onigiri Miya it is, then.

“‘Miya speakin’. What can I get ya?”

It’s a pleasantly accented voice. When you rattle off your order, you suddenly find it a little less pleasant after he says, “Er. Ya sure?”

This is some shoddy customer service.

“I’m placing the order, aren’t I?”

“Those two don’t normally go together,” he says. “I’d suggest number nine and number thirteen instead. Trust me.”

You don’t trust him, actually. This is probably just an upselling tactic he tries on every customer, but you’re not in the mood to argue. You had thought when you called a family owned restaurant, you’d be speaking to some kindly old grandma who might let you cry and vent into the receiver for just a little while, not whoever this is.

At least the delivery is quick.

A series of sharp raps on your door alerts you to the arrival. You pull it open to a man in a baseball cap and a uniform with onigiris on both. Their merch is cute. You’d wear it unironically.

Underneath the cap, yellow blonde hair peeks out. On his shirt, a name tag reads Miya.

Instantly, you feel a little worse for thinking poorly of him. Your bad attitude from work is no reason to take it out on this hardworking entrepreneur who’s running a one man show by himself.

“Here ya go,” he says, thrusting a paper bag at you. “Eat it while it’s hot!”

And then he’s off, scampering back down the stairs instead of taking the elevator even though you’re several floors up. You suppose there’s a reason he has those thighs.

That the food is good is an understatement.

Your former coworker Aiko used to work in food advertising before she pivoted. She loved to talk about how fake the industry was during lunch, both in terms of people and actual product. It’s through her that you know that half of the food in commercials aren’t actually food, but styrofoam and plastic painted to look appetizing.

Onigiri Miya, in contrast, doesn’t look perfect. Appetizing, certainly, but not like a work of art. It just looks like what it is - a ball of rice with special ingredients for flavor.

So why are you crying as you finish your first onigiri and reach for the next?

It’s been so long since you had a home cooked meal. You’re trying not to be maudlin, but you can almost taste the love that went into everything you’re eating. Imagining Miya carefully packing each triangular ball of rice by hand with a smile has you reaching for another, then another, until eventually the entire order is gone before you know it.

Exhausted from crying and eating, you sink into your couch with a satisfied sigh and fall asleep.

It’s 1:30 P.M. by the time you rise again, feeling a little better. Sleep really was the cure to all evils. Now you have 20 hours left to indulge yourself as much as possible.

You’re not in the mood to turn off your brain by binge watching a show. You want to do something. You want to use your hands to craft something from scratch.

Learning how to make onigiri could be a start. A quick run to the grocery store and the first recipe that popped up on Google later, you have a half formed, crumbling mound of rice with pickled radish shoved inside. If you squint, it looks almost like what you got from Onigiri Miya this morning.

Who are you kidding?

That’s an insult to Miya’s craft. He put so much care into each dish - you can hardly compare your shoddy workmanship to his. There’s only one thing to do. You have to taste the real thing again to see where you went wrong.

“Miya. What d'ya want to order?”

“I’d like-“

“Hold up. Didn’t ya call this morning?”

Flustered, you nearly fumble your phone. You’re breathless as you clutch is tighter and bring it back to your ear. “Yeah,” you admit sheepishly. “Is that bad?”

“I mean, yeah, a little,” Miya says. “I appreciate the business but ya shouldn’t be eatin’ onigiri for two meals a day. Yer going to make yerself sick.”

“It’s a special day,” you tell him. “I got laid off.”

In the resounding silence that follows, you have ample time to berate yourself for sharing that. What is wrong with you? Why would you say that? He’s a stranger that you’ve randomly dumped your misery onto and you’re sure he’s -

“Ouch,” he says. “‘Kay, I’ll make an exception just for today. What’s yer order?”

Miya shows up at your door promptly. He’s ditched the cap so his yellow hair is on full display. It looks like he’s run his hands through it. It sticks up at odd angles.

“Here ya go,” he says, almost distractedly as he hands you your bag. “Enjoy.”

You bring the bag inside and start rummaging through it immediately, excited to try new flavors you hadn’t gotten the first time around. Out comes the four onigiri you had ordered, a cup of miso soup, and…

A little takeout container of sushi with a cat’s face drawn on it. A speech bubble next to its head reads, “You can do it, meow!”

Laughter echoes around your apartment. To your surprise, the world feels less daunting already. You hadn’t realized how quiet you had been the entire morning. Miya’s the only person you’ve spoken to the entire day, and even that was a quick and whispered thank you. Your throat almost hurts with the force of your giggles after disuse all morning, but it’s a good kind of pain.

Onigiri Miya, family owned. You can almost feel the warmth of an embrace around you as you bite into your steaming onigiri, still a little too hot.

All too soon, it becomes a tradition for you to order Onigiri Miya as your comfort meal. It doesn’t even have to be a bad day - you actively try to avoid associating things you like with painful feelings by using them as treats for hard days. Instead, Onigiri Miya is anything from a reward for getting to the second round of interviews or a celebration for successfully starting a new hobby.

Onigiri has become your favorite food, and the person on the other line who takes your orders and even spares a few minutes to chat with you when it’s not too busy has quickly become someone irreplaceable in your life.

You think you might need to redownload Tinder if you’re this attached to the man who fulfills your onigiri orders.

Even though you know it’s strange, you can’t bring yourself to sever your connection. Miya is warm and kind, and you’ve quickly come to think of him as a friend. It’s a culmination of lots of little moments piling up over time.

When you had forced yourself to go on your first date after a while, determined to get back out there, it had crashed and burned catastrophically. Onigiri Miya had been there to pick you back up. Miya had even recognized the sniffles in your voice that you were fighting and drawn you another little cat.

The next time you had ordered, before you could even tell him what onigiri you wanted, Miya had asked you what happened last week. Maybe that’s just how family owned businesses are. They actually care about their customers. Enough so to play therapist to the girl that orders from you every week.

Then there was the time you had gotten your first call back for a job application, and you had called Miya to celebrate.

Well, not Miya. You didn’t have his personal number, but you had called Onigiri Miya, which is more or less the same thing at the moment. This time, he had been the one to be interrupted as you blurred out your good news.

You can almost hear the smile in his voice when he says, “What’d I tell ya? I knew ya could do it.”

There’s no container of sushi with a hand drawn cat this time, but there is a little note written on a napkin. It’s accompanied by an origami star.

You don’t cry, exactly, but your eyes water up as you read the note. He’s proud of you. The star is to wish you luck on your continued journey. The knowledge that he’s proud - his own words - fuels you as you keep applying and interviewing, never letting rejection stop you.

He’s just the guy that takes your onigiri order, but at some point, he’s become someone special to you.

He cares. He spends an extra two minutes on the phone with you to ask about your day even when you can hear the sounds of a busy environment in the background. He remembers your accomplishments and failures. Whether you fall or rise, he’s there with you every step of the way.

Sometimes, you get a fluttery feeling in your stomach when he laughs at you, calling you silly for whatever mistake you’re relying to him. You miss his voice when you don’t have an occasion to call, and when something happens, your first thought is always to tell him about it.

Maybe he feels the same way, because the next time he comes to deliver your order, he tells you, “We’ve known each other long enough, ya order every week. I don’t like being called Miya. My name’s Atsumu.”

Or maybe not, because he never treats you in person the way he does on the phone. There’s no spark of connection, no bright laughter, no willingness to linger, to stay, to listen.

Perhaps he’s just shy. In that case, you’re willing to take what he’s offered you and make the first move.

The next time you order, you end the call with, “Thanks, Atsumu. I’ll talk to-“

There’s an abrupt interruption from the other end immediately.

“What’d ya call me?” His voice sounds funny.

“…Atsumu?”

Even when you’re confused, the sound of his belly deep laughter makes you feel all shivery from your toes to your head. It makes your joints feel weak, like they can’t support you, and you ease into the dining chair as you wait patiently for whatever laughing fit that’s gripped him to pass.

“Atsumu,” he repeats, with another snort of laughter. “Atsumu, really?”

“What?”

“Ya know Onigiri Miya’s a five minute walk from yer place, right?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Come here,” he says, and hangs up.

When you enter Onigiri Miya, you get instant whiplash. There’s two of them!

You’re just wondering if you should get your eyes checked when you start seeing the subtle differences. They have different hair colors, and their eyes are just the subtlest shades apart.

The most discerning difference is the way the one with grey hair is looking at you.

“There’s the girl of the hour,” Atsumu says. “I’ll leave ya to it.”

When Atsumu leaves, Miya gestures for you to sit at the bar in front of him. He’s still packing onigiri.

“I’m a little hurt, ya know. Can’t believe ya mistook me for my twin.”

“It was an accident!” You protest. “How was I supposed to know?”

“I’m teasin’ ya,” he says, laughing. “Yer so easy to rile up. Remember this, okay? I’m Osamu. The nicer brother.”

“I heard that,” Atsumu yells from the back.

“Atsumu’s just the delivery guy,” he says. There’s a twinkle in his eye. You don’t think it’s that funny, but you like seeing him mirthful. “I’d rather make the food than deal with the people, so he does it.”

“Am I part of the people?”

He gives you a look.

“Stop fishing for compliments,” he says, and your cheeks grow warm with delight. “Ya know ya aren’t.”

“Here,” he says, sliding you a napkin with a series of numbers and a hand drawn picture of a cat. “I’ve been meaning to do this for a while.”

By the cat’s head, the speech bubble reads, “Miya Osamu’s personal number.” The cat is winking at you.

“Is this…?”

He smiles at you. “Stop clogging up the line cause ya miss me-“

“I don’t-“

He ignores you. “I got a business to run, ya know? Just call me next time.”

Then, he leans over the bar. He’s too close. Your cheeks feel warm under his attention as he whispers to you, “I’ll make something just for ya, compliments of the chef.”

Trying to recover, you swallow to bring moisture to your dry mouth. You’re trying to be playful when you say, “It’s a date, then?”

He looks at you with a hint of a smile. “It is.”

#sera writes #miya osamu x reader #osamu x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #miya osamu fluff #hq fluff #haikyuu fluff

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gghostwriter · 2 months

Note

I feel terrible for asking when your requests are closed bur Holy shit this is my real life and I need some loving.

I have a court case soon about putting a p*do in jail that I dobbed in, I'd live to have the team with me in court. I don't have to talk on the stand since he's already pled guilty but if we don't have a hang judge he'll most likely get home detention and on the Registry. My friends and I are hoping for jail bur yeah, I'd love to have the team soothing my anxieties as he doesn't know it was me that dobbed him in (I met him once) I need some loving and reassurance. Like I'm glad I got him done in but still seeing it go down I'm just messed up

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader Trope: Established Relationship; Fluff and comfort Word Count: 0.9k A/N: Anon, I hope this brings you comfort! I also want to personally say that you did the right thing and I know it took a lot of courage to report that sick sick man to the authorities and I’m so proud of you. Do let me know the outcome of the trial and I’m hoping the case was assigned to a hang judge for harsh punishment. Main masterlist

Sentencing. // Spencer Reid

You dreaded to be here. Here being standing outside the judiciary building as the reason why burdened your chest like a twenty tonne weight making it hard to breathe. The anxiety was wafting out of you in waves—you wanted to vomit or pass out or both from the idea that there’s a fifty percent chance of justice not being serve. The numbers were wrong, you knew, but you were not your genius boyfriend who can chatter off the correct statistics based on government reports. You were just you—a regular civilian who took the courage to report a crime and do stand up for the victim. Spencer was proud of you and the grit it took to stand up for another specially for the young but here, right now, you felt anything but brave.

A hand slid into yours, making you jump in fright.

“Spence?” You questioned your sanity then. It was a weekend and although that meant no work for him, his phone had rang and the both of you parted ways at the subway, him going to Quantico and you going to the court trial. So the idea that he was here, standing beside you seemed too ludicrous. A figment of your strained imagination possibly before his cedar wood perfume registered in your mind. “Are you real—I mean, what are you doing here?”

He squeezed your hand. “I called back Hotch and he convinced Strauss to give the case to the other team. You’ve been nervous for the past few days, picking on your nails—” bringing up your hand to see the nail beds dry and pink “—biting on your lips—” touching them as he observed the faint teeth marks “—and not being able to focus—” pushing away a stray lock of hair that escaped your haphazardly tied bun. “—I want to be here for you and remind you that you did the right thing.”

“I know that. It’s just—what if the judge assigned to the case doesn’t give a harsh sentence? What if he just gets registered as a sex offender and walks?”

“According to the statistics, 87% of convicted rapists are incarcerated while 13% receive a probation sentence. Pedophilia is also widely considered as one of the most egregious crimes by the system and the fact that he has already pled guilty gives a higher chance of imprisonment,” he rattled off as his own way of comfort.

For some, the daunting two digit number minority seemed big, and it is, but you trusted his insight especially knowing his own experiences in the field of protecting the weak and capturing the sick.

The numbers had it’s desired effect, lifting a bit off the weight dragging you down. You pressed your lips together and took a deep breath. “Okay, let’s go.”

He squeezed your hand three more times—a silent communication between you two that meant I love you as he pulled you in the assigned court room.

You occupied the last few rows, noting the family members of the victim also in attendance and although Spencer had calmed a bit of your nerves, each tick of the clock mixed with the palpable tension in the confined space had you shaking your knee in agitation. All of this combined made you unaware of the multiple presences that slid behind your bench. It took Spencer letting go of your hand and turning his head to bring you back to the present.

You swiveled, curious as to what had caught his attention, and breathed a sigh of relief.

It was the rest of the team.

Hotch reached out to squeeze your shoulder while Dave did the same on the other. Derek and Emily gave you a nod of encouragement and sweet smiles from JJ and Penelope. It made you want to tear up to feel such love, support, and reassurance from Spencer’s chosen family.

Unsure on how to put your gratitude into words, you gave a brief smile before turning back to the front as the judge entered the bench.

Bang.

The gavel echoed, effectively silencing any chatter of the audience.

Court was officially in session.

———

The twenty tonne weight that sat on your chest lifted as the judge sentenced the accused to fourteen years in prison with no chance of parole. The scene of each family members of the victim crying and hugging each other in elation and relief made the steps you took worth it. Children deserved to hold on to their innocence for as long as they could and they warrant the protection from any concerned adult and the system.

Stray tears escaped the confines of your eyes as Spencer placed a kiss on your forehead before leading you out of the building, all decorated agents in tow.

“Hey Rossi, we should have dinner at your house to celebrate,” Emily cheekily suggested once everyone was out on the steps. The same steps you were hyperventilating on a few hours ago.

Dave scoffed. “Fist of all, it’s a mansion and second of all, what is it with this team inviting themselves over?”

Derek laughed. “Aw c’mon man, we know you’d love to host us. JJ can bring Will and the kids and Hotch can bring Jack. It’ll be fun plus Y/N—” nodding in your direction “—deserves a good Italian dinner after all of this, don’t you think?”

Dave took note off all the members nodding their heads in agreement before sighing. “Fine, I’ll whip us up some Bolognese pasta, our Bambina’s favorite over here. Come by at 7pm sharp or else I’m locking the gates.”

Everyone cheered and soon parted ways, promising to see each other later on, leaving you and Spencer leisurely walking to the subway station.

He squeezed your hand again three times and smiled. “You make me so proud of you. So so proud.”

“Thank you for being there with me Spencer,” you squeeze in return. “I really appreciate it.”

“Anything for you, love. Anything at all.”

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

#spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid request #gw fics #pau’s request inbox #Spencer Reid fluff #spencer Reid comfort

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beomiracles · 3 months

Note

congratulations on 500 followers and many more to come!! 🎉 :D for your bash event can i get a nsfw txt reaction to reader putting on pheromone perfume oil? i think they’d all would go crazy but who would be the most obsessed 🫶

500 BASH SPECIAL

#serene adds ✎... I feel like they would all want you equally bad so I more ranked based on how much self control I think they'd have >.< kai's and Soobin's might be the only really nsfw ones, the rest are mostly suggestive I think, hope that's still okay ◟( ˃̶͈◡ ˂̶͈ )◞

wc -> 150-170 for each member

pairings ot5 x gn!reader (except kai, fem!reader) all are written with fem!reader in mind but no gender is stated except in kai's. warnings neck kisses :3, suggestive content but not smut, titty groping in kai's.

HAS THE MOST SELF CONTROL

TAEHYUN — Glancing over at your boyfriend, he nods and you turn to the next page, your gaze flickering back to the words written as the two of you continue reading in silence. Taehyun’s arm around your shoulder felt warm against your body while his fingers leisurely tracing your skin caused goosebumps to rise. Your boyfriend was a fast reader and when you got to the end of the page you turned to look at him before continuing. You find him already staring intently at you and you blink in confusion. “You’re wearing the perfume I got you.” He states and you slowly nod. His gaze flickers over to the book and he nods. — You flip the page. Barely a paragraph in, you feel his lips on your neck. Swallowing, you try to focus on the sentences in front of you, but as Taehyun’s hand moved from your arm and down your stomach you suddenly found it hard to focus on anything but him. He plucks the book from your hands as he throws it off the bed.

“Let’s continue later.”

YEONJUN — Large arms wrap around your waist as Yeonjun presses a tender kiss to your shoulder. “Hey, how was work?” You wonder without looking up from the vegetables you were chopping. Your boyfriend merely hums against your skin as he inhales your familiar scent, except today something was different. “Hm, what’s this?” He mumbles as his kisses trail along your neck, and you shudder as you lean back against his chest. “What’s what?” You drawl, a small grin spreading across your lips. His hands on your waist spins you around before he hoists you up on the countertop behind you, making you yelp as you grab onto his shoulders. “You smell…”, he begins as he draws in a sharp breath, “really fucking good.” A small giggle escapes your lips, “do I?” — Your deceiving manner doesn’t pass him unnoticed, but he frankly couldn’t bring himself to care. His soft lips sucking loving marks along your scented skin as he groans. “I was in the middle of making dinner”, you protest, yet your hand in his hair only pulls him closer.

“I’ll take dessert first today.”

BEOMGYU — “Can you help me put this on?” You turn to your boyfriend who was leaning against the doorframe of your shared bedroom. Nodding, Beomgyu pushes himself off the wall as he walks over to you, grabbing the gold jewelry from your hands as you turn back to the mirror. You lift your hair for him as he places the necklace around your neck, immediately getting a whiff of your perfume, but it wasn’t your usual one. His pupils dilate as he blinks down to the lock of the necklace, fumbling to get it fastened as your alluring scent fills his senses. “Did you get it?” Your voice sounds like a faint whisper, somewhere far away and Beomgyu swallows, letting out a small sigh as he finally secures the jewelry around your neck. “Uh-huh”, he mumbles as he leans down to press a sloppy kiss against the juncture of your neck, making you shiver. His gaze snaps up to meet yours through the thin glass of the mirror, his eyes filled to the brim with desire.

“We still got another twenty minutes until we need to leave, don't we?”

SOOBIN — “You got a new perfume?” Soobin asks as he watches you set the unfamiliar bottle down and rub your wrists against your neck. “Mhm”, you hum as you wrap your towel tighter around your still damp body. “Wanna smell?” You wonder as you push your hair to the side. Eagerly nodding, your boyfriend practically stumbles inside the bathroom as he wraps his arms around you. He almost groans at the scent as his hands travel down to the curve of your ass, giving you a harsh squeeze before pushing your towel up above your hips. “S–Soobin!” You shriek as your hands push at his shoulders. Your boyfriend merely grunts as he pulls your body flush against his, the prominent erection in his pants makes your eyes go wide.

“Only wear this from now on.”

KAI — The mattress dips as Kai flops down on the spot next to you, easily rolling over to lay by your side as he presses a chaste kiss to your cheek, making you smile. Upon pulling back, his nose scrunches up as his brows draw together in a frown, “you smell different”, he comments and you raise him a questioning eyebrow. Quickly realizing his mistake, he speaks without thinking as he tries to undo the damage. “I mean like, in a good way, you smell really good”, he swallows as his gaze drops to your exposed collarbone, your tank top hugging your chest tightly, “like really fucking good”, he groans before quickly getting on top of you. You don’t have time to respond before he seals your lips in a kiss, his hands going straight for your chest as he gropes your tits hungrily, pinching your nipples through the fabric of your shirt and you gasp against his unusually demanding behavior.

“Fuck, I need to be inside you, like right now.”

HAS THE LEAST SELF CONTROL

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