#Also about how I said I wasn’t expecting it to be good

[kaisentine]

݁ ִ  ۫ ⸺ ❝ 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐎𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔　.ᐟ　❞

⌗ ⸺ ❝ 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘰 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯’𝘵 . . ! ❞ the one thing you dread the most is your friends overanalyzing and hyping you up all because of a simple interaction with your crush—so annoying! ft. michael kaiser, itoshi sae, shidou ryusei, nagi seishiro, & oliver aiku general cw. just idiots in love, reader is so deep into denial it’s infuriating, highschool au, shidou, fem reader . . . ( MY BAD ) sticky-note i think i just yapped my brains out with this one ( what’s new! ). bomb idea, explosive writing! NAWT PROOFREAD

sticky note. BAEE 😁 thought of this cuz i was also doing snapstreaks

𐔌 . 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐄𝐋 𝐊𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐑 is apparently so into you because . . . ❝ he snaps you in the morning ! ❞

your friend seems way more excited than you are. it’s way too early for her to already be geeked out at you opening kaiser’s snap for streaks. “i don’t get it,” you say as you open the image—he’s still at home even though most students are already in their respective classes, it’s the side of his face and really nothing special ( if you didn’t like him ). “he’s the epitome of ‘i don’t snap til i’m done with training.” she explains further yet you still don’t understand why she’s pointing it out. “does that quote even exist?” you ask, she’s off with your phone to observe the very thought out ( not really ) photo and shoves your phone into your face with her manicured finger pointing something out. “never mind that! look!” she has effectively made your brain’s circuit cut short because you don’t understand. you grab her wrist to control the distance so you can actually see. why is she pointing at his hair? “what am i looking at?” you voice your exact thoughts. “not tryna be mean to your crush or whatever, but it’s clear he has bed head!” she exclaims, attempting to remove your hand from her wrist, “there’s a reason he only snaps after training . . .” she ends in a murmur. “ha-ha, very funny. i still don’t get it.” you fake laugh at her sly comment and finally surrender her arm—letting it drop. “he hates people seeing him in the morning because of that,” she contemplates saying what she is just about to say—when has she ever done that? “maybe he wants to be the first man you see in the morning, that’s why!” she giggles, and your jaw drops; that is the biggest stretch she has ever came up with! “are you a lunatic?!? the last thing i’d want to do is show him me in the morning . . . he probably hates me!” this reaction of yours wasn’t what you friend wanted to get out from you. she was expecting to see a gleam of hope in your eyes but instead she’s met with a gloss of panic.

actually, your friend was spot on—he snaps you in the morning because he wants to be the first man you see in the morning. the strategy isn’t as effective as he would like it to be because despite the fact he has a pretty reasonable schedule like how he sleeps 7 hours every night, he only knocks out at about 2 am. he’s probably more effective at being late for school if anything. however, he’d rather you see him as at least one of the first males you see at such an ungodly time with ungodly bed head than you seeing him rush into the classroom because he’s late for the first time you glance at his ( glorious ) face that day. the man also decides he’s way too good for the stupidly cute filters you can find on the app so those are out of question—random wall photos are too. gets ness to hype him up and then chastises him if you don’t even look his way.

sticky note. i feel like this is a stupid reason but it’s such a funny concept

𐔌 . 𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐈 𝐒𝐀𝐄 is apparently so interested in you because . . . ❝ he ate a fry . ❞

your friend is dead serious but you’re just looking at her like ‘oh you actually serious?’. “sorry, what?” you bring your ear closer to her mouth in hopes you probably just misheard what she said. “he. ate. a. fry.” she repeats—nope she is definitely not joking with you. “i don’t see how sae eating a fry relates to him liking me,” you start deadpanning at her attempt at convincing you itoshi sae likes you—she sucks at this! she cocks a brow and gives you a dirty look, “i have a theory you might not actually like him . . . God that man hates fries.” she shudders at the thought. “they were the fries you brought!” she adds on, quickly regaining her composure from pure terror. “okay . . . yeah but it was one singular—not plural—fry, are you okay?” yes, you have a point, it was one fry, and now you’re concerned for you friend. she raises her hands up in surrender while sighing like she was just defeated—have you finally tamed the hostile creature? nope. there’s a sudden stupid smirk on her face that looks straight-up devious, “and plural—not singular—reasons why he is sooo interested!” she elongates and dramatizes the ‘so’, and you mentally slap yourself to make up for the stupidness you can feel radiating off her words. “i can never win with you, can i?” you ask but the answer is already clear—you cannot.

yup, sae hates fries, dearly—that isn’t some kind of secret because he is pretty open about it. once even telling you friend to . . . “fuck off,” when she thought it was a good idea to offer him the stick of pure deliciousness ( hence why she gets shivers thinking about it ). he doesn’t care about a lot of things like how he doesn’t bother himself with keeping most things private or public because he simply just does not give a flying shit. neither does he really care if he makes his feelings clear or not—mixed signals king! sure, he likes you but that doesn’t stop him from being nonchalant. the only time he’ll make openings are in soccer and anything other than that—he just lets it happen. that means if he is given a chance to ‘make a move’ and it’s served on a silver platter without him needing to excerpt any more effort? he’ll take it. if he isn’t, he waits for the next time. but that man doesn’t know anything about feelings so he thinks eating something you brought is making a move.

sticky note. this man is a FREAK but he’s a simple guy promise

𐔌 . 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐃𝐎𝐔 𝐑𝐘𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐈 is apparently so downbad for you because . . . ❝ he said ‘if i was a velociraptor, i’d eat y/n first’ ? ! ❞

your friend reads off her phone and accidentally pushes her desk towards your chair. “HUH?” you’re just as surprised as your friend is—shidou ryusei actually said that? “you have to look at this,” she states and smacks you in the face with her phone ( deja vu WHO ), it’s the school’s blog and the post is exactly what she just said. “that’s just . . . i mean—what?” you find it quite hard to comprehend what you were reading because what do you mean the weird guy you like posted that? “is that edited?” you ask for confirmation—you literally can’t believe it. she clicks the profile and it is him, you feel your face flush when you’re bombarded with images of him. “i get it! i get it!” you bark and swat her hand away, “whydoievenlikehim—“ you mutter before covering your eyes like you just saw something so distasteful. “girl, i don’t know . . . but he totally likes you,” she shrieks, turning off her phone so such madness is no longer seen. you aren’t entirely buying it, “i doubt it, if i was some kind of carnivorous animal, i wouldn’t eat the guy i like—at all!” you say with a frown on your face. she looks at you, looking even more horrified at what you just said to her. “his thinking process is probably out the window, y’know? he probably just means he wants you to be with him forever!” “in his stomach? no thanks.”

what makes you think shidou ryusei is okay in the head in the slightest? if he likes someone—he makes it so obvious! he doesn’t second guess his words, much less his online posts so as soon aas he was done typing out the words, he clicked post almost immediately. doesn’t regret it one bit. his eyes land anywhere but sae? that is truly a feat . . .

sticky note. does this even happen. also nagi really likes sleeping

𐔌 . 𝐍𝐀𝐆𝐈 𝐒𝐄𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐎 is apparently so desperate for you because . . . ❝ he sleeps on your shoulder . ❞

your friend is referring to the multiple times your crush has decided to accidentally fall asleep on your shoulder. “so . . .” you urge her to elaborate her point further than she already has. “and he only does it when he’s next to you,” she discerned, whipping out photo evidence in the form of a printed piece of paper. it’s really nothing too special—just the two of you sitting next to each other on the waiting lounge’s couch, waiting for your guys’ turn for the school’s mandatory medical check-up. he looks quite comfortable, arms crossed and manspreading ( 😭 ) but his head is rested on your shoulder—sleeping. “. . .why’d you print it,” you gasp at such an absurd action to prove a point and you quickly rip the paper out of her hands, “you’re insufferable.” you shake your head in disappointment. “a girl gotta do what she gotta do, y’know! how much more obvious does he need to be???” ugh, she’s being so dramatic—he’s just sleeping on your shoulder. “he probably realized i . . .didn’t mind so he doesn’t care,” you reject the idea. “you might be the insufferable one—why do you think he keeps doing it?” she says and you so want to side eye her but you aren’t going to turn sideways to do that because that is mad embarrassing. “i don’t know! he’s just some sleepy guy like,” you give her a pout before continuing, “. . .and people said that they feel sleepy around me.” you admit. “nah, they’re just saying you’re boring!” she giggles—did you not put that together? you playfully push her shoulder in annoyance. “but i’ll give you the answer—he wants to close to you, or in other words; he likes you!”

nagi is the type of lazy where he thinks it’s too much of a hassle to confess first but thinks making physical advancements don’t count. he can easily sleep anywhere, honestly. he likes his sleep but he loves good sleep and you just feel like a good person to sleep on so he decides to try it—and he’s right. he did do it accidentally the first time, it was on his mind but he really didn’t mean to! sleep just drenched his eyes and he was out cold—on your shoulder. there, he decides he likes you more than just a comfy pillow to doze off on.

sticky note. i feel like reader is very justified LMFAO. yk i have a friend who has more than a mu or a situationship but aren’t dating and she said he longest more than friends but not not dating was like 4 years

𐔌 . 𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐈𝐊𝐔 aiku is apparently so smitten for you because . . . ❝ girl, he confessed . . . ❞

your friend resists the overwhelming urge to bitch-slap you because you long-pressed your dms with him. the message wasn’t some kind of special confession just a simple ‘hey i know we just started talking but i think i’m inlove with you’ God reading that made you cringe. “yeah nope, not buying it.” you know he probably knows you saw it because of that stupid green dot on your profile but his message is still left on delivered. “why not?” she asks, “he knows you’ve read it, why edge him?” she pulls out her phone from her bag and faces her back towards you. “what are you doing . . ?” you’re honestly scared what she’s planning because even though you could also just stand up and look over her shoulder—she’d run out of the classroom and disappear. “texting someone,” she says while she’s rapidly typing out something, her shoulders shaking. “i don’t like the sound of that,” you refer to the hidden underlining of her tone, “you’re scaring me—ugh—whatever. i just started texting him, he barely knows me, he’s probably had 4 girlfriends in the span of 5 months—what makes me any different?” like—not trying to degrade yourself but you’re worried that he’s just going to play you too. “if he does, i’ll break his heart!” she says in resolve, doing the cliche moment of lifting up a fist and you giggle at her. there’s a quick buzz from your phone and it’s from the girl in-front of you, “what’s this?” you raise an eyebrow, clicking the notification pop-up. “just read it,” okay . . . if she insists. dot. dot. dot. there’s invisible crickets going off in your head. “is this from sendou?” “uh-huh.”

unbeknownst to you, your friend was actually texting her situationship ( of like 8 months LMFAO )—sendou shuto to ask him about oliver’s confession since they’re friends and all. ‘aiku n y/n? oh yeah he’s totally smitten man, i ain’t never seen aiku talk about a girl like he does w her’ is the message she forwarded to you that let the crickets rip! no but seriously, he normally has cycles like when he’s with one girl but then breaks up with her because he got eyes for another but now he promises that he only wants you!

bonus on why reo likes you because i might not be writing as much as i did this week because of school :p

mikage reo ⸺ ❝ he bought your entire christmas wishlist . . . ❞

[wonderjanga]

Bro, You Suck at Disguises

Billy sucks at disguises and the JL really wants to say something about it, but at the same time the disguises somehow work.

Flash, GL, and Marvel: *all hiding in some bushes*

Flash: “All right, so we’re all here- Cap, what the fuck are you wearing?”

Marvel: “What do you mean?” *wearing the mustache and nose glasses*

GL: “He means what the fuck are you wearing? Dude is that your actual disguise?”

Marvel: “Uh… yeah?”

*silence*

Flash: “Bro, go home and change.”

Marvel: “No, my disguise is fine. Look, watch.” *stands up out of the bushes they were hiding in and walks over to the entrance*

GL and Flash: *watch as Marvel says something to the goon and is somehow, they don’t know how, but somehow let in*

Even if Cap’s disguise worked, it was still shit. They chalked it up to Marvel interacting with low level goons, because there’s no way that would fool an actual villain, right? Right…?

Both Barry and Hal later watched as Lex Luther talked straight to Billy’s face about evil plans.

Then there was the time Diana asked him to show up to a UN meeting with her in disguise.

She was greeted with him wearing a button up that not only barely hid his suit, but his lightning bolt was also shining through the fabric. She honestly doesn’t know how he wasn’t found out, but when she heard one of his interactions with an older ambassador…

Old Lady Ambassador: “Where’s that glowing coming from?”

Marvel: “It’s my pacemaker.” *pulled that straight out of his ass*

Old Lady Ambassador: “Oh, I see!”

Wondy: *confusion*

Then there was a time Marvel just put on some glasses, didn’t even bother to put something on over his suit, just glasses. When someone came up to him and asked if this was a “cosplay”, Billy just said yes and ran with it. After all, the real Captain Marvel doesn’t wear glasses so he’s obviously a fake.

This was also a joint mission with Superman, so Clark reacts about as well as you would expect.

Marvel: *surrounded by a crowd, all taking photos and talking about how good his “cosplay” is*

Supes: *watching this*

Marvel: *notices him and pushes through the crowd* “Mr. S- er Mr. Clark!” *waves*

Supes: *staring and slowly starts to look offended* “Are you making fun of me?”

Marvel: “What no? What do you mean?”

Supes: “I… never mind.”

Marvel: “No, tell me! Did I do something to make you upset?”

Supes: *sulking because seeing Marvel made him think his own disguise is stupid* “No, you didn’t. Let’s just get the mission over with.”

[tangerineastronaut]

can you do a yunho reader thigh riding where shes his gf

Missed You | j.yunho

Pairing: Idol!Yunho x Nonceleb!Reader Genre: Smut/Fluff (MDNI) - mostly smut, very little fluff but still a main theme. Requested: Yes w.c. 3.5k Warnings: Thigh riding, established relationship, praise, slight degradation (nothing in a hateful way), size kink if you squint, namecalling, pet names, humping, I think that's it? If you notice any potentially triggering content not listed here please let me know. A/N: Hello lovelies ~ it feels so good to be back. I haven't written in a while but after browsing some of the amazing fanfic writers here it really made me miss it. Thank you to anon for my very first request! Also, this is poorly edited so please don't mind any errors. I will likely edit it in the future if I find any. Please excuse my rusty skills as well, I promise I'll get better! Requests: Open ~ please see the guidelines for requesting here.

5 months. 

For 5 months, your gorgeous golden retriever boyfriend had been gone on tour, and you were expected to endure a meal with him and the members. They’d landed just hours ago and were no doubt exhausted, but Yunho looked as unfairly beautiful as ever. There were shadows under his eyes and he definitely seemed to be craving home, but the moment he’d spotted you when you walked into the restaurant…god. His tongue had slid over his lower lip, likely thinking about the way you taste, long fingers raking down his pants as if to stop the tingling spreading through him. He was wearing casual clothes, just a hoodie and a pair of jeans, but nothing could hide the art of his figure. Tall and lean, toned where it counts. His broad shoulders, his chest and stomach that you loved peppering with kisses. And those thighs. 

You’d never really considered how sexy a man’s thighs were until you’d met Jeong Yunho. Muscular and thick, perfect for sitting on when he was in the mood to game for hours. Fine with you—was there anything more fun than teasing your lanky gamer boyfriend in the middle of a match? Squirming in his lap, making him fumble the controller and lose until you were bent in half, said boyfriend sinking into you?

Dinner. 

Dinner dinner dinner. 

You were proud of the boys and knew this was important, so despite wanting to jump his bones, you kept yourself in check and listened to the bickering between Woo and Jongho, beginning to wonder if Seonghwa had opted to dye his hair white to hide the grey caused by his children. 

You were about to scold them yourself to give the poor Captain and His Wife™ a break, but a warm hand sliding up your thigh made the words die in your throat in an embarrassingly high pitched sound. You coughed to cover it up—thank god for Woo as no one was paying attention to you—and glanced up at Yunho.

“I missed you baby,” he hummed, low enough that only you could hear. His pretty lips formed a smirk that wasn’t as sweet as his words. You smiled up at him, placing your smaller hand on top of his and squeezing, silently begging him to leave you the fuck alone before you drag him to the bathroom. 

“Missed you too,” you reply, making a visible effort to turn back to the conversation you weren’t part of. 

You’d hoped he was just being coy, teasing you a bit, but he apparently wasn’t satisfied with your reaction as his hand slipped inward. He wasn’t far above your knee, but it didn’t matter, making you clamp your legs together and grip his wrist beneath the table. The smug bastard smiled, hiding it in his glass as he took a sip of water. 

It was irritating, the mere fact that his large hand spanned much of your upper leg making you squirm. It was far too easy for him to rile you up, while he managed to maintain composure most of the time. You bit the inside of your cheek and released his wrist, your own hand moving to his lap. Yunho stiffened a bit, but that was it. You spread your fingers over his thigh, squeezing once before gently moving your hand side to side. 

When he turned to San and casually asked about next week’s practice schedule, it felt like a slap to the face. 

You’ve been dating for 3 years. You’ve fucked countless times on many, many surfaces. But when your fingers slid toward his crotch and found his cock already fully erect, you tore your hand away as though it had burned you. The bickering had died down, so to hide the flush on your face you took a sip of water. Yunho hadn’t even flinched, still conversing, unbothered, and wearing that cocky little grin. 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

You almost felt guilty about the buzz you felt as everyone began to say goodbye, promising to rest before work started up again next week. You could’ve sworn Yunho was purposefully talkative tonight, as you knew damn well he didn’t care whether or not Yeosang’s apartment had more than one elevator. By the time he was willing to humor you, you were all but vibrating next to the company’s black SUV, the driver waiting much more patiently than you. 

Yunho had the audacity to ask if you were ready to go, his warm hand sliding over the small of your back. You nodded so quickly you were almost dizzy. 

The SUV was quite tall, and you were…quite not. So when he opened the door for you, you prepared to climb inside ungracefully, but your boyfriend placed both hands on your hips and lifted you into the vehicle. You had no time to react, as he was climbing in after you. You prepared to shuffle across the seat to give him space, but he easily caught your wrist and yanked you across his lap. One hand gathered both of your wrists, the other resting calmly over your ass. You both glanced over at the same time to make sure the divider was closed. 

“Someone’s horny,” he chuckled warmly, the hand on your ass moving in a slow circle. You frowned, tugging your wrists out of his grasp so you could sit up. Your hands found his shoulders and you swung a leg over his waist, straddling him but not letting your full weight rest against his cock just yet. 

“Jeong fucking Yunho—I have been waiting 5 months for you and not just so you can grope me in a restaurant,” you grumble, fisting his hoodie. 

“Technically speaking, all I did was touch your thigh. You, however, grabbed my—”

You shut him up with a kiss, mushing your mouth against his so hard you could feel your teeth pressing the inside of your lips. Yunho’s large hands found your waist, squeezing, trying to pull you down against his aching groin. You resist by using your knees, the grunt of irritation escaping him making you laugh.

“What’s funny?” Yunho asked, sucking your lower lip between his teeth. The shock made you gasp, and he used the opportunity to buck off of the seat of the car, hips meeting the plush underside of your ass. 

Unwilling to let him win whatever the hell this was, you moved a knee between you, coming dangerously close to his clothed cock. 

“Nothing, just my desperate boy acting like a dog,” you hum breathlessly. “All worked up, trying to call me out as the slut here.”

“You fucking—” Yunho grumbled. He wrapped both arms around you, crushing you against his chest and leaving you no choice but to straddle him again. This time, he hugged you tight; you could hardly breathe as he rutted against you so hard that it made you squeak. 

You wanted to do more than pitifully submit, but you thanked the gods you’d decided to wear a dress, as each dry thrust pushed his cock right against your clothed clit. It was shameful how needy you felt, already able to feel a second heartbeat between your legs, the familiar ache as your cunt woke up from its 5 month hibernation.

“Thought about you every night,” Yunho groaned, his breath coming out in pants as he did all he could to create friction between your bodies. “You have no idea, baby. ��m gonna fuck you until we pass out.”

“Yeah?” you manage to weakly spit out, your fingers curling into the material of his hoodie. You knew you should do more, give more, but your head was spinning, mouth dry from moments of contact after so long. 

“Yeah. You’re gonna make those sounds for me, just like you did over the phone. Want you to say my name,” he says, his head falling back against the seat. “Fucking pillows…nothing looks as pretty as you.”

“P-Pillows?” you mumble, pulling back enough to look at him, his hips still working against your body. He licks his lips, eyes squinted as he looks over your face, nodding. 

“Mm.”

“You…you fucked a pillow?”

“Mhm. ‘s soft and I can hold it down just like you, pretend it’s my girl taking me so good,” he rambles, not an ounce of shame in his tone. 

Fuck. 

You’d used fingers and toys, nothing doing what he could do for you. You assumed he used his hand—knew it, actually, based on the sparse dirty phone calls you’d managed to have. But the idea of Yunho, your gigantic boyfriend, desperately fucking against a pillow because it reminds him of you…it did something to you, woke something up that you were not proud of. You wanted to see it. 

“Gonna hurt you…”

“H-huh?” you stammer, your cheeks flushing red despite your current state as you were caught daydreaming about Yunho and the poor pillow.

“It’s gonna hurt, baby. Need you wet,” he breathes. He reaches his hand between you, catching you off guard as he swipes beneath your panties, rubbing the sticky wetness of your cunt. You let out a broken moan, your hole clenching around nothing like muscle memory as you think of those long fingers pumping into you. 

“I’m wet Yuyu,” you say, silently praying he gives you something, even just a finger to the first knuckle. But Yunho shakes his head, hands settled on your hips. 

“Not enough…I’m telling you it’s going to hurt. Need you to cum first.”

“When we get home—”

“Now, y/n,” he says. His voice isn’t mean, not even commanding like it can be, but it still sends a shiver down your spine. 

“O-Okay,” you mumble shyly, glancing back as if the driver might decide to open the divider. He didn’t, probably knowing better. “Use your fingers.”

“No,” Yunho mumbles. He easily manipulates your body until you’re perched atop one thigh. “Like this. Love it when you ride me.”

You exhale, situating yourself until your cunt is pressed against his jeans. Your hands tighten their grip on his shoulders, and you meet his eyes as you begin to move, grinding against his leg. Yunho’s mouth opens, a gasped curse leaving his mouth as you lick your lips. 

“Faster baby,” he murmurs, eyes trailing over you as you rut against him, “want you desperate. Want you to whine.”

“Fuck,” you say to no one, rolling your hips forward. Yunho grips the seat on either side of you both, fingers twitching like he wants to grab you and move you himself. But he just watches, licking his lips and nodding as you drive yourself to the edge on his thigh. 

You feel him flex, the hardened muscle beneath you offering a firmness that makes you shudder. There’s a hotness between your legs as your juices coat his thigh, creating a wet patch on his jeans. After so many months, you’re sensitive, but unfamiliar with the movement as you struggle to hit the mark. 

You falter, pausing to catch your breath. 

“Don’t stop, baby,” Yunho says, his voice almost a whine. Your head falls forward on his shoulder, shame making your face warm. 

“It’s been a while,” you mumble. “Sorry, yu.”

“Want me to help? Hm? Need me to make you feel good?” he whispers, lips catching your cheek. You nod weakly, fisting his hoodie again as his warm hands move to your waist, squeezing once before he begins to move you. Your body is like putty to him, and he grinds you down against his thigh like a doll. 

“How’s that feel?” he asks, burying his face against your hair. You nod, unable to say much. He does it just right, somehow knowing your body better than you do.

Yunho reaches between you, hooking his thumb into the front of your panties and tugging them to the side. You gasp as your bare clit makes contact with his jeans, able to feel just how much you’d soaked through them. The thought makes you buck against him, catching the friction yourself with a choked gasp. 

“That’s it, baby,” Yunho says, one hand going back to the seat while the other keeps your panties pulled to the side. “Like that. Let me see you use me to make that pretty cunt wet.”

“Fuck, Yunho,” you whimper, your hips beginning to move in a steady rhythm. He hums in approval, biting his lower lip hard as he watches you carefully. You groan and wrap both arms around his shoulders, squeezing your eyes closed as you grind hard against his thigh. The scent of his cologne is stronger now that he’s sweating, the smell making you dizzy and needy. You lower your head to his throat and kiss him there, tasting the saltiness of his skin while your tongue leaves a wet trail.

“There she is,” he murmurs, tilting his head to the side. You whimper and mouth at his skin, nipping and sucking as you work yourself to destruction on him. He groans as you latch onto his pulse point, using his free hand to grip your hair and pull you off of him.

“Be good,” he chuckles softly. You bite your lower lip, eyes wide and brows tight, hands moving up to scratch gently at the nape of his neck. 

All it takes is a few seconds of you staring at him like that, still rutting helplessly against his thigh, needing to mark him up. Yunho sighs and leans back to get his hands between you, grabbing both his hoodie and shirt and tugging them over his head. His chest and stomach are revealed, your hands immediately palming at his skin. He nods and runs his thumb over your lower lip. 

“Go ahead baby,” he hums. “Nothing above my collar bones, yeah?”

You nod obediently and kiss him softly, his lips plush and warm as always. You want to cry at the sensation of coming home, despite the fact that you were currently humping your hot boyfriend’s thigh during the longest car ride to your apartment ever. 

You go for his shoulders first, you bite down and get your hips back into rhythm, relishing in his hiss of pain. Your teeth leave marks as you let go, breath hot against his skin. 

Your nails leave half moon crescents as they work with your teeth, leaving a trail of love bites over the expanse of his chest. You’ve momentarily forgotten the goal here, though Yunho has no trouble reminding you. When you go in to kiss him again, he catches a fistful of your hair once more. 

“You don’t want my cock going in like this,” he murmurs, free hand gently smacking your thigh. “Running out of time, babygirl.”

“I’m wet, Yunho,” you whine, bouncing in irritation. “Jus’ wanna kiss you. I can take it.”

Yunho stares at you for a few seconds, eyes trailing over your form where you’ve paused your movement. 

“Yeah?”

“Yes,” you huff, rolling your eyes. Since when can you not take his cock? He was huge, sure, but it’s not like you’ll break. 

“How much?”

“What?”

“How much?” he repeats, his hand slipping between you again. You try not to react as his thumb goes beneath your sticky panties, easily sliding over your swollen clit. 

“All of it,” you scoff, unsure of what he was saying. Yunho smiles. 

“No, I mean how much? How long can you take it? I’m not gonna stop, baby,” he says roughly. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you. Gonna fuck you until you can’t move…still gonna fuck you until you ask me to stop.”

You pause at this, licking your lips and jolting at the heat sprouting from between your thighs. 

“I-I can take it still,” you mumble, grinding down against his hand. He moves it, tugging your panties again, the cooled wetness of his jeans making you shiver. 

“I’m gonna take my fill, baby,” he says, watching you move against his thigh. “Been practicing. Edging myself for months. Gotta make sure I use that pretty pussy until it’s wrecked and full of my cum.”

You squeak, your brain trying to think of a good response to that. Yunho chuckles and lifts his knee, making you involuntarily buck against him. 

“You gonna shut up now and make sure you can do that for me? Get that little cunt wet enough so I can use it as much as I need to?” 

“Y-yes,” you stammer. His dark eyes drop to see the result of your grinding, the wetness beneath you. 

“Good girl,” Yunho nods. “Come on. Harder baby, need you to make a mess on my jeans.”

You do as he asks, grinding hard against his thigh, biting your lower lip as he alternates, flexing and relaxing the muscle beneath you. You move your hand to his and push it away, tugging your panties aside in one hand and gripping his shoulder with the other, looking down with parted lips because holy shit—you don’t think you’ve ever been this wet. 

He feels so fucking good, there’s so much more you need from him, want to do for him, but you promised you’d cum. So you rub and grind and clench your teeth until you’re mumbling incoherently, much to his delight. 

“That’s it, that’s my good girl. So fucking pretty and stupid when she gets desperate, can’t understand a word you’re saying,” he says, hands finding your waist. You sob and begin clumsily rutting against him, no rhythm whatsoever, just desperation and chasing physical sensations. Yunho loves to see it, coaxing you over the edge the closer you get. 

“That all you’ve been thinking about, baby? All your holes getting stuffed? Bet you miss waking me up with my cock in your throat.”

You whimper and nod, eyes shut tight as your orgasm remains just out of reach. You need him to do it, to finish you off, you’re not sure what that would be, just that you want him to help. 

“M-More yu, gimme more,” you whine softly, mouth open like a dog as you pant. 

“More? More what? I haven’t given you anything, babygirl,” he chuckles. You’re not in the mood to play with words, but Yunho suddenly grabs your chin, forcing you to open your eyes and look at him. You feel the burn of tears as you squirm and rut, his eyes full of satisfaction. 

“You still gonna ask for more when I’m stuffed inside you?” he asks roughly. You nod eagerly, but Yunho only smirks. 

“Knew you would, baby. Such a fucking slut for me. I tell you to ride me and here you are, too needy to realize we would’ve been home half an hour ago.”

“H-Huh?” you mumble out, that knot in your stomach untwisting. “F-Fuck, ‘m… g-gonna—”

“Gonna what? Ruin my jeans with your pretty pussy? All so I can get my cock inside as soon as I get you home?”

“Yunho,” you sob, a gasp on your lips as you begin to cum, eyes squeezing shut. 

You ride out one of the most intense orgasms you’ve ever had, mouth open, nothing coming out but pitiful squeaks and choked sobs. Yunho watches, lip caught between his teeth, holding you tight as you briefly leave this plane of existence in his arms.

“So fucking beautiful,” he breathes when you finally open your eyes, releasing a mixture between a cry and a sigh. “My good girl. I’m the luckiest man on this planet, baby.”

You choose to breathe rather than respond, but he’s fine with that, hugging you to his bare chest and cupping the back of your head. 

“I love you so much, you know that?” he says, words muffled as he speaks against your hair. “Can’t wait to get you home. Gonna show you how much I missed you.”

He runs his fingers through your damp hair. You know you look wrecked already, and you’ll be shocked if you last more than one round tonight. But you’ll try for him.

“M-Missed you too, yuyu,” you weakly reply. “Why…why aren’t we home?”

Yunho laughs, brushing your hair back to kiss your temple. 

“Arranged for us to ride around for a bit beforehand. Figured one of us would cave at the restaurant,” he admits. You look up at him, the stupid boyish grin on his face making you smile. 

“I love you,” you huff. He leans down, lips soft and unhurried against yours for what feels like the first time that night. He tastes no different, feels no different than he did 5 months ago, and it livens you up a bit, much to his amusement. 

“I love you too, pretty.”

[eddiesghxst]

hellow, i’m officially done with school for the next year or so which means (if u haven’t already noticed) i’ve started to write 50 wips <3

so anyway, here’s a snippet of something im writing about dom!eddie who’s also a tattoo artist who just so happens to own a tattoo parlor that’s right next to a ballet studio which just so happens to be owned by ballet instructor!reader

18+ — MINORS DNI

It was a series of unfortunate events.

You had spent the last five years of your life building your ballet school from the ground up, but when your old studio was sold out from under you, you were forced to find a new home for your students.

It wasn’t easy. There weren’t many options for you to choose from and most buildings either needed an immense amount of work that your pockets couldn’t afford or were too far away and would inevitably cause you to lose students.

But then you stumbled on a dream. The new studio was perfect— freshly installed tiling, beautiful acoustics, and the fee to install the mirrors wasn’t all that bad— except for one small detail: the tattoo parlor next door.

For the months that you spent preparing the studio for your students, you were tormented with the constant buzz of needles and the faint scent of ink lingers in the air all day, mixing with the sharp fragrance of floor polish and irritation that comes with summer heat. It nearly drove you insane.

But what started as a nuisance soon flourished into something else entirely. The tattoo shop’s owner, a tall, inked-up man named Eddie, was there every morning, the storefront always open to the bustling world outside. Your first conversation had been brief— you introduced yourself, explained how you ended up here and he wished you a good start to your new building.

It wasn’t until a few months down the line that you finally caved and complained about the noise, telling him it was difficult to focus with the loud sounds from his shop and Eddie— surprisingly, since you had somewhat painted him a villain in your mind— apologized and said he’d try to keep the noise down— “I can’t promise the same on the days I don’t work, though. My team tends to never listen to me.”

And so then you and Eddie formed a very nice, casual, and polite relationship. Something like a work relationship. A nice smile and wave in the morning, small and quick conversations about the week— and sometimes, he would get you a coffee and slide it on your desk while you’re busy with your morning class.

But as weeks passed, your casual exchanges became… something more— quick morning greetings turned into full blown conversations and free coffees turned into free lunches— “The deli down the street always gives me an extra sandwich.” And you almost think he’s lying about that, but he never really leaves you room to further pry about it. Lingering looks, shared laughs, and an unspoken connection grew deeper with each passing day.

But it started and ended at work— there on Blackburn Avenue where your ballet studio and his tattoo parlor share a sidewalk— and it never left. And you never expected it to be more— Eddie is more of a work crush anyway. You talk and flirt for the few hours that you share a wall, and when you go home you watch your reality TV shows, eat dinner, and think nothing of it.

But what the hell do you do when you walk into a BDSM club and see your work crush on a stage, knuckle’s deep in a pretty girl, with a bunch of strangers watching— including yourself?

What do you do when the pretty boy that owns the shop next to your studio is on a stage, whispering dirty praises in a girls ear and finger fucking her until her thighs shake? What do you do when you realize— oh fuck, I should probably leave since I actually know this guy and we’re kind of coworkers, but you stay like the idiot you are?

And what do you do when his pretty brown eyes (which look even dreamier when they’re blown out and dark with lust) glance up from the woman below him and just happen to immediately land on you?

What the fuck do you do?

[wandamaximoffsbadgirl]

Teacher's Pet Baby

First Time

Cg!Professor!Wanda Maximoff x little!student!reader

Summary: You slip during class for the first time and it doesn't go unnoticed

Word count: 1.4K

Warnings: Age regression, mild anxiety, emotional vulnerability, fluff and comfort

Authors notes: After writing the first part this had started to come to mind so it was nice to get it all written out~

Also, to all the littles, seeing this, please tred lightly on this blog! This is my big 18+ blog, but I do have some little!reader fics. Everything is marked accordingly!

The first few weeks of class were nothing out of the ordinary—except for the way you found yourself drawn to Professor Maximoff. There was something about the way she spoke, how her voice carried both authority and warmth, that made you want to listen more intently. You were eager to impress her, to ask every question that popped into your head, just to see that soft smile she reserved for students who showed genuine curiosity.

You didn’t know what it was that made you crave her attention so badly, but you knew that every time she praised you, something deep inside you warmed, a feeling of safety and validation that you couldn’t quite explain.

Then, one day, as you flipped the page in your textbook, your eyes landed on the title printed in bold letters at the top:

Coping Mechanisms: Age Regression

Your stomach twisted immediately.

Two whole pages on the subject, defining it, explaining how it functioned as a response to stress or trauma. You barely heard Wanda begin her lecture, your mind spiraling as you felt yourself slipping, your fingers tightening around the edge of the book.

It wasn’t until you heard the soft laughter—quiet, but unmistakable—that the dread fully set in.

"People actually do this?" one student muttered under their breath.

"That’s so weird." Another scoffed, shaking their head.

Your breath hitched, and you had to blink rapidly to stop the tears from forming. They didn’t know. They had no idea that right here, in the same room, was someone who did—who couldn’t help it, whose mind sometimes reverted without warning. You wanted to shrink, to disappear, but before the panic could settle in further, Wanda’s voice cut through the murmurs, firm and unwavering.

"That’s enough," she said sharply, silencing the room in an instant.

All eyes snapped toward her, and you dared to look up. Her expression was serious, her usual soft demeanor replaced by something strict and protective.

"I expect professionalism in my class," she continued, her gaze sweeping over the students. "We are here to learn, not to ridicule others for coping mechanisms that are valid and often necessary for mental health." She let her words settle before adding, "If anyone here finds it difficult to show respect for psychological concepts that people actually experience, then perhaps this is not the right field for you."

Silence.

Your hands trembled slightly in your lap, but for an entirely different reason now. No one had ever defended you like that before. No one had ever made you feel like what you did—what you were—was okay.

Wanda’s gaze flickered to you for just a moment, softer now, like she knew. Like she had already pieced something together but wouldn’t call attention to it. Instead, she resumed her lecture, effortlessly guiding the class back on track, leaving you sitting there with a heart racing for a whole new reason.

From that moment on, you weren’t just drawn to Wanda Maximoff. You needed her.

As the lecture came to an end and you were trying to pack up Wanda called you over, "Have a good night everyone and remember to do the reading and get your assignment done for Monday's class! Oh and y/n please stay a moment. I'd like to discuss something with you." 

Your heart was pounding so hard you were sure Wanda could hear it. You weren’t in trouble—at least, she didn’t sound upset—but you still couldn’t shake the nerves twisting inside you.

She had never asked you to stay after class before.

You stayed frozen, hands gripping the edge of your desk as you watched her move. But instead of standing over you like a professor scolding a student, she did something entirely unexpected—she walked to the door, locked it with a soft click, and then made her way over to you.

Wanda crouched down in front of your desk, leaning against it with an easy, open posture. Her smile was gentle, and when her warm eyes met yours, something inside you softened, though your body still trembled slightly.

"Hi, sweetheart," she murmured, her voice filled with nothing but kindness. "You're feeling pretty small right now, aren’t you?"

You swallowed thickly. It was impossible to hide, not when she knew, when she could see right through you. Words felt too hard, too big, so you just nodded, blinking rapidly as emotion threatened to well up in your chest.

"That’s okay, sweetie," she assured, her tone soothing as she reached out, resting a hand over yours for just a moment. "This was your last class, right?"

You nodded again.

"I have papers to grade," she continued. "You and I can stay right here, okay?"

Another nod. This time, accompanied by a tiny, shy smile.

Wanda’s expression softened even further. She stood up, her fingers reaching out to gently comb through your hair, the touch grounding in a way you didn’t even know you needed.

"You’re safe with me, Malyshka," she whispered.

✎✐ ✎ ✐ ✎ ✐

While Wanda graded her papers you decided to draw, pulling out your crayons and drawing pad. Wanda let her eyes flick up every so often to watch you. Her expression softened as she saw you so concentrated, your tongue just poking out past your lips. 

She wanted to giggle, but worried it might upset you so she held back, turning her attention back to her papers until she heard you get up, feet padding over to her. She looked up past her glasses. 

"Yes sweetheart?" She asked softly, "Do you have something to show me?" You nodded eagerly and turned the page around.

Wanda let a warm smile tug at her lips as she examined the drawing, her heart melting at the sight of it. You had drawn yourself much smaller, hand held securely in hers, your features simple but unmistakably you. Wanda’s own figure was a little more detailed—her hair a mess of crayon strokes, her glasses perched delicately on her nose—but the most touching detail was the way your hands were clasped together.

Wanda ran her fingers over the crayon lines, her chest tightening in the best way as she admired your drawing. It was simple, childlike, but so full of love that it made her heart ache.

"You did such a good job, sweetheart," she murmured, looking up at you with a soft smile. "I love it, Malyshka."

Your lips curled up, eyes sparkling at her praise. You rocked on your heels, waiting, hopeful, and Wanda knew exactly what you needed. She set her papers aside, focusing entirely on you.

"Come here, baby," she said gently, opening her arms. "Come sit with Mama."

The second the word left her lips, she felt it—the way you froze. Your happy sway stopped, your hands clenched slightly at your sides. You blinked at her, uncertainty flickering in your expression as you searched her face.

"Mama?" you echoed, your voice barely above a whisper.

Wanda stayed perfectly still, giving you space to process. She hadn’t called herself that before, at least not out loud, though she had thought about it more times than she could count.

"Only if you want me to be, sweetheart," she assured softly, her voice steady, warm. "I would never make you do something you’re not comfortable with."

You shifted on your feet, fingers curling against the fabric of your sleeves. "But... do you want to be?"

Wanda’s breath caught for just a moment before she exhaled, nodding. "I do," she admitted, her hand resting gently on her knee, not reaching for you, just waiting. "I’d love to take care of you in whatever way you need."

You stared at her, the hesitation clear in your expression. But beneath it, Wanda could see something else—longing, hope, the deep desire for safety and care.

She kept her voice soft. "You don’t have to decide right now, Malyshka."

You bit your lip, shifting your weight from foot to foot before, slowly, you stepped closer. Wanda didn’t move, letting you take the lead, and after a brief pause, you finally climbed onto her lap, settling hesitantly against her.

Wanda wrapped her arms around you carefully, rubbing soothing circles along your back.

You stayed stiff for a moment before you melted into her, resting your head against her shoulder. A soft sigh left you as your fingers grasped at her sweater, holding onto her like you were afraid she might disappear.

Wanda pressed a gentle kiss to your temple, her lips brushing against your warm skin. "I've got you, sweetheart. Always."

And this time, you didn’t hesitate to believe her.

[7-deadly-cats]

killing me softly (part one)

pairing: rafe cameron x fem!introverted!kook!reader

cw: swearing, very indirect subtle mention of sexual activities (no actual scenes), mention of drug usage (no actual scene)

synopsys: it's the last year of high school and y/n is paired up with rafe cameron for a 2 week project in art class. this wouldn't be a problem if y/n wasn't awkward as hell and well ... if there wasn't her big fat crush on him.

word count: 2144

a/n: i haven't written this kind of stuff since like 8th grade (i recently graduated from university sooo yeah) but i kinda felt like it now and idk. there are so many smut involved fics on here (which isn't bad, i just need more softer slow burn stuff). not saying there won't be any smut in future parts hihihihi. also i have no clue how the american school system works (i'm from europe) so pls just accept this lol. and kelce's last name is statter bc apparently it was never mentioned in the show. anyway, this is for all my introverted and overthinking girlies (who may or may not be little freaks) <3

*****

Fuck my life.

That was the only thing on your mind as Mr. Smith announced the partners for the upcoming two-week art project. In pairs, you were supposed to create a reinterpretation of the Greek gods.

The assignment wasn’t the problem. In fact, it actually sounded kind of fun. But your partner? Yeah, that was the real issue.

Fucking Rafe Cameron.

Of all the people in this class, it had to be him. You didn’t even know why he'd chosen this class. Rafe was probably the last guy you’d expect to take an art elective—well, right after Kelce Statter.

He'd probably thought it was an easy class to boost his GPA. Rookie mistake.

Okay, whatever, it was just a small project. You could handle this.

NO, YOU COULDN’T, HOLY SHIT.

The thought of working with Rafe Cameron made your skin crawl. In all your years at Kildare Academy, you'd maybe exchanged two words with him—and that was only because he'd mistaken you for another girl.

"Y/N, right?" Rafe appeared at your desk at the end of class, a bored expression on his face.

Okay, okay, just act normal. Be nice. You nodded. "Yeah."

Rafe stared at you for a moment, like he was waiting for you to say more. His eyebrows furrowed slightly before he tilted his head. "Cool, okay. Let’s just meet up during lunch break and get this over with."

Did he seriously think you could finish a two-week project in one lunch break?

When he saw the look on your face, he raised his brows in amusement, his tone teasing. "What? You too busy?"

Your cheeks heated up as you shook your head. "No, lunch sounds good."

"Okay, then let’s meet after the fifth period." Before you could ask where you should meet him, he turned around and disappeared out of the classroom.

You frowned. This was off to a great start.

Just two weeks, you reminded yourself as you slung your bag over your shoulder and headed to math class.

On the way, you unlocked your phone to text your bestie Cara:

You shoved your phone away and tried to ignore the uneasiness creeping into your stomach.

You didn’t usually have trouble talking to guys but Rafe Cameron was a whole different story. Not because he was "too cool" or some dumb shit like that.

No, Rafe was just... intimidating. Not in that bad-boy, cringe Wattpad kind of way. It was something else, something you couldn’t quite put into words.

He wasn’t arrogant—he was proud. He was loud, but not in the annoying way Kelce Statton was. He wasn’t rude—he just said whatever the hell was on his mind.

He was just ... himself. And yet, somehow he wasn't. It felt like there was a lot more going on beneath the surface.

Maybe that was what made him so interesting to you. Sure, he had a nice face and a well-known name, no doubt about that. But more than anything, you wanted to know why he was the way he was.

Was he just a blunt person who didn’t give a fuck, or was there more to him than his looks and his last name?

So yeah, maybe a part of you was curious about him. But he had such an overwhelming presence, you wouldn’t even know where to start.

In the past, he'd had a few friends-with-benefits situations, but none of them had lasted long. And that was definitely a path you didn't want to go down. Under different circumstances, maybe you could but you've never even held hands with a guy, let alone kissed one or—yeah, no, not going there.

Okay, chill. Internally, you cursed Cara for fueling your delusions.

You had more important problems at right now anyway. Like math class with Mrs. Richman. And no one could claim you were a star student in that subject.

----

The lesson dragged on, your thoughts constantly drifting. After class, you were supposed to meet Rafe.

Rafe, who had PE right now.

Shit. You tried not to think about a sweaty, heavy-breathing, and—NOPE, NOT NOW.

"Okay, that’s it for today. Don’t forget about the math test next week. But for now, go enjoy the nice weather," Mrs. Richman announced, dismissing the class.

Your hands felt clammy as you got up to leave. What the fuck is wrong with me?

You headed to the restroom and washed your hands. Why were you so nervous about spending one lunch break with Rafe Cameron? Fuck you, social anxiety.

"Everything okay?" A soft voice pulled you from your thoughts. "You look kinda pale."

You turned to see the pretty face of Molly Crane. Red hair, cute freckles, and a super charming smile. She was one of the few Kooks (if any existed at all) who was genuinely nice.

You forced a smile. "Yeah, yeah, all good. I think I just ate something bad for breakfast."

Molly didn't look convinced. "You sure? You look like you’ve seen a ghost."

"Really, thanks, Molly. I’m fine now." With an awkward smile, you excused yourself and headed out—only to realize that, well… great, you and Rafe had never picked a meeting spot.

Brrrt.

Your phone had been buzzing since math class. Of course, it had been Cara.

You rolled your eyes with a smile and texted back.

Should you really wait in front of the gym? That felt weird af. But at the same time, you didn’t want to miss him and end up having an awkward conversation about it in the next art class.

The cafeteria would've been the most obvious meeting place, but would Rafe actually look for you there?

You pressed your lips together. Fuck it.

Heart pounding, you headed toward the gym.

Good thing your body totally knew how to distinguish between social interaction and actual danger.

When you arrived, you heard muffled voices of the boys inside, along with Coach Brown’s instructions.

Just breathe, it’s just one lunch break, you told yourself. Then again, this was probably how the next two weeks were going to feel.

You held your breath as the gym doors swung open, and a crowd of sweaty—oops wrong, freshly showered—boys streamed out.

You awkwardly stepped to the side, ignoring the curious glances thrown your way.

No sign of Rafe yet. A sick feeling settled in your stomach. Even worse than being here and having to explain HOW you knew that he would be here, would be explaining why you were standing there if he didn’t actually have PE right now.

But then relief washed over you when you spotted Kelce Statter and Topper Thornton. And right behind them—Rafe Cameron.

You tightened your grip on your bag. Okay, okay, I can do this. They’ll probably say bye to Rafe and leave for lunch now.

They didn’t. Great.

When Rafe saw you, something flickered in his gaze that you didn’t want to analyze. You expected him to just walk past you but instead, he headed straight toward you—with Kelce and Topper right behind him.

Just smile. No, not like that, you probably look like a creep. Oh god, okay.

"Hey," Rafe greeted you with a slightly puzzled smile as the three of them stopped in front of you. "I didn't expect you here."

In other words: Did you stalk me or how did you know I was here?

Kelce and Topper eyed you with amusement. This is so unbelievably embarrassing.

Blushing, you pointed at the gym bag slung over his shoulder. "Well, I saw you bringing a sports bag today, and PE is usually scheduled right before lunch ... so I just assumed you’d be here."

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Kelce stifling a laugh. You wanted to disappear from Earth, no from this universe. No way anyone would believe--

"Right," Rafe replied with a lopsided grin. "I would’ve just waited in the cafeteria."

So you had been right. And you could've saved yourself this painfully awkward moment. G-r-e-a-t.

"Good thinking though. The faster we get this project over with, the better."

Shit, did Rafe just compliment you? Then again, why did the last sentence sound like he didn't want to work with you?

You smiled awkwardly. "Exactly."

"You're Y/N Y/L/N, right? Your mom owns Y/L/N Yacht Sales." Topper’s voice cut in, and you were grateful for the topic change.

You nodded. "Yeah."

Was that admiration on Topper’s face?

"Ohh, a business Mommy, I like that", Kelce said, and both Topper and Rafe eyed him with shaking heads.

Topper blinked at him annoyed. "Bro, shut the fuck up for once."

Kelce just laughed.

"My dad bought a Grady-White from you guys recently," Rafe remarked, and your gaze flicked back to his blue eyes.

Jesus, he wasn’t just looking at you—he was staring into your soul. If he was always looking at girls like that you'd gladly be his friends-with-benefits-girl.

You prayed to whatever gods were listening that you didn’t blush. "I remember. A 456 Canyon."

The corner of Rafe’s mouth twitched up. "Yeah, a pretty model."

Your cheeks warmed, and either he didn’t notice, or he chose not to comment on it.

"Oh shit, that sounds like a boat party," Kelce chimed in with a grin and looked at you. "If I were you, I’d have thrown a dozen parties by now. So many possibilities…"

Rafe scoffed amused. "Good thing she isn’t, or her family would be broke by now."

You allowed yourself a small smirk.

„Hey, I’m just saying.“ Kelce raised his hands innocently.

Topper tapped him on the chest with the back of his hand. „Okay, dude, and I’m saying we’re leaving now before you say more stupid shit.“ Then he looked at you apologetically and turned his gaze to Rafe. „See you later.“

Rafe just gave him a short nod, his expression hard to read, before turning back to you with a tired smile as Kelce and Topper disappeared behind the gym. „So, you hungry?“

Why did this situation suddenly feel so… intimate? It wasn’t. Definitely not. There was absolutely no reason to feel weird about this. And yet—standing here alone with Rafe Cameron was… a lot. Maybe it was the way he looked at you—calm, focused, as if he was actually paying attention.

Or maybe it was the damn wet strands of hair falling into his forehead after his shower.

Get a grip.

You nodded quickly, trying not to overthink it. „The cafeteria has quinoa veggie bowls today. Or fries, if you’re not into influencer food.“

Oh God. Was that your attempt at being funny? Tragic.

Rafe’s lips twitched with amusement. „So, you’re assuming I don’t like quinoa bowls?“

Oh. Oh no.

Heat immediately rushed to your face, and you could feel your cheeks burning. Why the hell did you say that?

„No—I mean…“ You let out a nervous laugh, which sounded more like a weird cough. „Not that you wouldn’t like it, but you’re just more like—uh, not that I’m putting you in a box or anything, but you don’t seem like someone who… uh…“

Rafe raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. „Someone who eats quinoa?“

You sighed. „Forget it. I’m just talking nonsense.“

„No, no, now I’m curious.“ His voice was amused, almost teasing. „How exactly do I seem?“

You swallowed. Shit.

„Uh…“ Your eyes flickered over him for a second—his broad shoulders, the damp strands of hair falling into his forehead, the fresh polo shirt fitting way too well against his body—oh God, wrong direction.

„I just meant…“ Maybe you should just stop talking and dig your own grave. You sighed and smiled awkwardly. „Okay, look, I'm sorry if you’re actually a secret quinoa veggie bowl advocate. I didn’t mean to sound condescending.“

Rafe laughed. Not in a mocking way—no, it was real, warm, which somehow made it worse because it only made you more nervous.

„No, no, I get it,“ he said, shrugging with an amused smile. „I guess I need to work out more if I’m giving off ‘fries guy’ vibes.“

Your eyes widened, and you quickly shook your head. „That’s not what—“

„Relax, I know what you meant.“ He cut you off, tilting his head toward the cafeteria. „Come on, you can keep judging me in there.“

I am the most embarrassing person alive, you thought, face still burning.

Still, you fell into step beside him, gripping the strap of your bag a little tighter. Brain, could you please shut the hell up? Thanks.

It didn’t.

Because why did Rafe’s presence feel so overwhelming—in the best way possible? And why did his ridiculously good aftershave still linger in the air between you, like some kind of cruel distraction?

And most importantly—how the hell were you supposed to survive two whole weeks of this?

[mommyslittlebird]

Far From a Monster

Wanda x Reader

After a particularly intense session, Wanda has some conflicting feelings about what it means to be your dom.

CW: Dom Drop, Blood, Mommy Kink, Guilt, Sexual Shame

Word Count: 1.8k

A/N: As someone is who isn’t a dom very often, I don’t know how accurate a depiction this is of dom drop. This is just what I’ve heard from other people. But I hardly ever see it written about so I wanted to give it a shot.

A/N: I KNOW, I said in the poll it was going to be more stepmom!Wanda next, but that fic is going to take longer than expected. Also in my defense this one was in the lead until almost the very end.

She had you just where she liked you.

You were face down on the bed, a sobbing mess in her hands. You had started on your hands and knees, but had long since collapsed forward. She had her hands drilled into your hips, which was the only thing that kept you up on your knees. She used her grip on you to force you to keep her brutal pace, cruelly dragging you back on to her each time she slammed her hips into you.

“Mommy please! Mommy it’s too much! Please mommy it hurts!” You cried. Your arms were wrapped around a pillow you were pathetically crying into.

“Aww sweetheart,” she cooed with faux sympathy. “You can give me one more, I know you can. Can you do that for mommy?”

You whimpered and squeaked into your pillow, but nodded nonetheless.

She reached down to pet your hair, but inadvertently drove your head further into the pillow. You moaned as her hand gripped your hair. “Oh you like that? Do you like it when mommy hurts you and pulls your hair?”

You nodded, but she pulled harder, pulling you up off the bed a little bit. “Words, princess.”

“Yes mommy! Yes I love it when you hurt me a-and pull my hair!” You cried. “Please mommy, I’m gonna cum again.”

“Is it starting to feel good again, baby? See I told you mommy’s cock wasn’t too big for you. You said it wouldn’t fit, but it’s made you cum, what, three times now?”

“You were right! You were right!” You conceded. “Please let me cum on your cock. Please mommy please.”

“Hmm,” She pretended to consider the request. “Tell mommy about how you're her cockslut and you can cum.”

“Yes mommy, I’m your cockslut. I’m your little toy you can use however you want,” you pleaded. “Fuck I’m gonna cum. Mommy I’m gonna cum for you.”

Your eyes rolled back in your head as you came so hard the strap fell out of you and hit your leg. Wanda smirked, satisfied with herself as you collapsed onto the bed.

Until she looked down.

There was blood.

And not an insignificant amount of it either. She swallowed. It couldn’t have been your period, could it? No you had been on birth control for years and hadn’t had a period since she’d known you. Besides, this was too bright and fresh to be period blood.

“Honey?” She asked, voice shaking slightly. “You don’t have a period anymore do you?”

“Hmm?” You asked, not immediately registering her question in your fuzzy haze. “No. Why?”

You looked down, seeing the blood that covered both your inner thighs and Wanda’s. “Oh. I must’ve torn a little bit. Sorry.”

Her brows knitted in concern. Her heart was racing. It felt like it might beat out of her chest. “I-I’m gonna go get a towel. Stay right here, baby. I’ll be right back.”

You couldn’t tell through your haze how panicked she truly was. You missed the way her voice broke when she spoke. You didn’t see the tears that pricked the corner of her eyes. You didn’t notice the frantic way she scurried into the bathroom. You simply laid on the bed, blissfully nuzzling a pillow.

Wanda closed the bathroom door, taking off the strap and running it under the sink. A cry broke through her lip when she watched the water run red.

How did she not notice you were bleeding? Were you telling her to stop when you said it too much? Did she push you too far? Had you torn at the beginning and just been in pain the whole time? Did you forget your safe word? Fuck did you say the safe word and she just hadn’t heard it? Did she genuinely hurt you? Were you going to be mad at her?

All the worst case scenarios ran through her mind. She felt a monstrous guilt rise up in her chest. She hurt you. She hurt you and she didn’t even realize it.

Why was she like this? Why did she even like to hurt you in the first place? Why did she like it when you cried for her? What kind of monster enjoys hurting the person they love?

“Wanda?” She was pulled from her thoughts by your gentle voice at the bathroom door. “Is everything all right, honey?”

She was bent over the bathroom counter, bracing herself against the granite. Tears were running down her cheeks causing her hair to stick to her face. You took a couple steps towards her, cupping her cheek. She pulled away.

“Wanda, baby, please tell me what’s wrong. Did I do something?” You asked.

Wanda shook her head. “No, love. No you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Then what is it?” You asked softly, reaching out for her again.

Her teary green eyes finally met yours. Her bottom lip trembled. “I hurt you,” she admitted softly, in almost a whisper.

You took a sigh of relief. “It’s okay. It doesn’t hurt. It’s just a little tear. I’ll wear a pantyliner, it’s not a big deal.”

“It is a big deal,” she cried, “I hurt you! You were bleeding and I didn’t even notice! You were telling me it hurt and I didn’t listen!”

You pulled her into a tight hug, cradling her head into her chest. “Wanda, it's okay. We were just playing, just like we always do. I was having fun. I would’ve used my safe word if I wanted to stop. You did everything right, love.”

Wanda wrapped her arms around your shoulders. “I feel like a monster,” she cried softly.

You rubbed her back, kissing her temple. “You’re not a monster, love. You’re nothing of the sort,” you reassured. “You are so so far from a monster.”

She clutched you harder, pulling you impossibly close. “I love you. I love you so much.”

“I love you too, honey,” you said, taking a moment to rub her back before proposing: “How about we get cleaned up and have a nice soft snuggle night, huh?”

Wanda nodded into your chest. “Is it alright if I take a shower up here and you take one downstairs? I think I just need a minute to myself.”

You pulled her out of the hug, holding her face in your hands. “Of course, honey. Just no more spiraling into thoughts of being a monster, okay?”

She smiled, turning her head to kiss the palm of your hand. “No more spiraling,” she agreed.

You pressed a long kiss to her forehead. “I love you, Wanda. And I think you’re a wonderful person. And I think you did everything perfectly.”

She giggled. “I love you too, darling. Now go take a shower downstairs. I’ll be ready for you when you come back up.”

—————

You finished up your shower, returning to your room in some soft pajamas pants and one of Wanda’s sweatshirts. You limped up the stairs a little awkwardly. The tear hurt a little bit more than you expected after the adrenaline wore off, but it was nothing a Tylenol couldn’t fix.

You walked into Wanda nervously fluffing the pillows in a little nest she’d made for the two of you. She turned around when you opened the door, still looking a little anxious. “Oh, hi I um, I got this for you. And some Tylenol.”

She held out what looked like a pad, but was cold to the touch. “What’s this?”

“It’s just a pad with some chilled witch hazel. It’ll help with tear,” she explained.

You looked down at the pad with a hint of disgust. Pads always made you feel so uncomfortable. But when you looked back up at Wanda’s anxious frown, you simply smiled and said “thank you, love. I’ll put it on now.”

You tucked the cool pad into your underwear. Perhaps unsurprisingly, it felt better almost immediately afterwards. The cooling sensation did wonders for the burning of the tear. Wanda smiled for a moment when you sighed in relief, but quickly went back to nervously playing with her hands. “C-can I ask you something?”

You took her fidgety hands into your own. “Of course love, anything.”

She tilted her head up to briefly look you in the eyes. “Do you think you could call me mommy for tonight?” She asked. The words came fast and jumbled, like she had to force them out of her mouth before she changed her mind. “I mean I know we only use it while we’re playing and I’m being rough with you and that’s fine if you just want to stick to that and you’re under no obligation to say yes or anything I just thought that maybe I could be mommy and be sweet and take care of you just so it’s clear that I still love you when I’m mommy and I’d never do anything to try to hurt you on purpose even though mommy Wanda seems super cruel and sadistic…”

You interrupted her nervous rambling with kisses to each of her knuckles. “Of course, mommy.”

She stopped speaking for a moment, looking at you with all the love a gaze could possibly hold. She looked like she might cry again, but she simply reached up and touched your cheek. You melted easily into her touch and it made her heart sing.

She loved you, and you knew she loved you. You didn’t flinch or shy away from her. You didn’t wince like she was going to hit you. You trusted her. Even as mommy, she was going to take care of you.

“Okay, my love,” she whispered. “Let’s get you to bed.”

—————

You spent the rest of the night cocooned in a variety of soft blankets. She had you sat between her legs, arms wrapped around your waist while she repeatedly kissed the top of your head.

She had her laptop open on your lap. The two of you giggled over a game of Firegirl and Waterboy. She even let you play as Firegirl even though the Waterboy keys were much harder for her to reach around you. For a kids game, the two of you were doing exceptionally poorly, not even making it past the first few levels before your eyes started to droop and you yawned.

She gently closed the laptop, moving it to the bedside table. “Alright princess, I think it’s about time for bed.”

“We’re already in bed,” you teased through a yawn, curling up on your side into her chest.

“Cheeky girl,” she chuckled, kissing your head and turning off the bedside lamp. She pulled you close, swaddling you against her chest with a blanket.

You rubbed your face into her neck and sleepily mumbled, “I love you, mommy.”

She smiled giddily, glad you couldn’t see her in the dark room. She gently rubbed the back of your head. “Mommy loves you too, princess. Sweet dreams.”

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

@zepskies

And just like that... my obsession with Karl Urban was rekindled. 🤣

Girl, you're killing it with the LOTR fanfiction. It's so good and this one for Eomer is no exception. First of all I really like the premise of this fic, an arranged marriage that grows into love 💕 And I love that you said it started out as an OFC and you turned it into a reader insert- I know we've both talked about that before and you know how I've done the same thing for some of my fics 🥰

Flashes of memory from the night before conjured in your mind; of the surprising carefulness in his calloused hands, of hot, sweat-slick skin against yours, and the rasp of his beard as his lips and deft fingers taught you more of pleasure.

“I’ve drawn a bath for you, unless you prefer to rest longer,” he said. You blinked. “Really?” That was a kindness you did not expect. Éomer’s lips tugged upwards. He offered you his hand. Though you hesitated, you slipped your free hand into his. Instinctively you took the furs with you to cover yourself, your face warming down to your neck under the weight of his amused stare.

Oh my word, he drew her a bath- what a MAN. Also I love the added detail that she still wrapped herself in the blanket when she walked even though it's after the two of them have slept together. I think it is perfect for the arranged marriage side of the story, that she's still not quite comfortable showing all of herself yet and it was a great little detail you added.

Was that a note of disappointment in your tone, in the downturn of your face? Éomer paused, but he did as he set out to do, leaving you to your bath in peace. He went over to his side of the bed to continue dressing himself, slipping a long shirt over his head that he tucked into his breeches. Though he tried not to let them, his thoughts of you remained.

Oh my sweet goodness, the little look into his head of him thinking about his wife. For me it's giving a little bit of "he falls first" and I'm melting!

By the Valar, was there no end to how you blushed around this man? You only couldn’t tell if being kept by you was a duty he relished in.

Honey I'm going to stop you right there... YES, yes it is a duty he relishes in!

Éomer blinked in surprise. On his face it was still muted, but it was there. Your words touched him. He cleared his throat, for some reason finding his face a bit warm. In his eyes, you continued to be a wonder. He too hadn’t known what to expect from a woman of Gondor. He knew what many in your country thought of the people of Rohan—simple folk at best, and horse-wild barbarians at worst. With you, he’d mostly expected a haughty, spoiled brat. He’d never been more willing to be proven wrong. In fact, the more he learned about you, the more beautiful you became.

For the love of sweet baby corn, she's making the dangerous horse-riding sexy man who could and snap me in half (and I'd say thank you) blush! 😂

“Regardless of how we were entered into this arrangement, I stand by my vows,” he said. “I will honor and protect you, and do my utmost to make you comfortable here in my home.”  You smiled. Your hand turned under his to curl your fingers around his palm. “I will also honor and protect you in whatever way I am able. And I will do my utmost for your house, for it is now mine as well,” you replied.

Soon, it wasn’t enough. He slid his arms around your waist and under your knees before he stood with you in his arms. He smiled at your squeal of surprise. It was the first real smile you’d ever seen upon his face. It delighted you to be the one who put it there.

And she made him smile 😭

Oh my word this is so good! I need 50 million more! I would love to read more of this reader and Eomer falling in love, but if not that’s also okay- because this was incredible just the way it was my wonderful friend 💚💚💚!

AS TRADITION DICTATES

Pairing: Éomer x Reader 

Summary: Your marriage to the Third Marshal of the Mark has been arranged in the hopes of renewing political ties between Rohan and Gondor. The morning after the ceremony, your new husband continues to defy your expectations.

AN: I’ve been wanting to write something for Éomer for a while now, so here we go! Confession: this one-shot actually comes from an Éomer x OFC story I have fully outlined, called The Appeasement Bride. I adapted this snippet into a reader insert story.

Word Count: 1.7K

Originally posted on Patreon: 1/21/2025

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Spiciness, fluff, newlyweds trying to suss each other out lol.

You woke just after the dawn, the sun peeking over the horizon and filtering through the open window. Its light began to wash over your face and stir you from a deep, well-earned sleep.

Your hand slipped out from under your head and drifted over…and you frowned. Opening your eyes, you realized that your husband’s side of the bed was empty and cold. Already, it seemed, he didn’t care to be with you when you woke. Had you done something wrong?

Flashes of memory from the night before conjured in your mind; of the surprising carefulness in his calloused hands, of hot, sweat-slick skin against yours, and the rasp of his beard as his lips and deft fingers taught you more of pleasure.

A shiver ran down your spine, blooming some warmth between your legs. Surely, if you had displeased him, he would’ve told you so. Or maybe he was polite enough to withhold that from you, along with most of his other thoughts. Éomer was often so stoic, it was difficult for you to learn your husband, even before the wedding ceremony yesterday.

You had come to Rohan over a month ago, and in that time, you had been able to glean precious little about him other than the ones he seemed to value most: his sister, his cousin, his uncle, Théoden King, his country, and his horse.

Not that he told you any of these things in words. You saw it in his actions—by the way he carried himself, and the way he spoke to you and others with fairness and courtesy, not arrogance. You’d heard gossip of his infamous temper, but so far, you had not seen it.

Nor did you see him now.

Perhaps he had more pressing work to do. In these past few weeks, you saw a bit of how demanding his station could be, and you understood his duty to patrol the Riddermark as Third Marshal of these lands. However, if he could’ve just been courteous enough to wake you before he left—

The heavy door of the bed chamber opened to Éomer himself. He wore only breeches and boots, his wheat-blonde hair loose and unadorned down his back. You swallowed a surprised gasp and watched him from the bed, unconsciously bringing the fur blanket up to your shoulders.

He met you with a polite, “Good morning,” before he continued inside to stoke the fire. He held more kindling wood in his arms, and he laid it on the platform before the fireplace.

“Good morning,” you nodded, though your cheeks warmed in a blush at the sight of his bare chest (you remembered that slightly wooly patch well). The defined muscles of his shoulders and arms shifted with his movements.

You were also a little embarrassed for overthinking.

“You rose early,” you added belatedly, for lack of something better to say.

“I am accustomed to it,” he said.

He finished with the fire and stood. You couldn’t help the way he captured your gaze, his measured steps bringing him closer to the bed. You sat up to meet him, the furs draping from your body, covering only where you held the soft fabric over your breasts. His eyes were an interesting shade of green as they roamed over you.

“How did you sleep?” he asked.

Somehow it was not what you were expecting, though it was perfectly agreeable. Your blush deepened.

“Very well, thank you.”

He nodded. Then, something almost hesitant passed through his gaze.

“I’ve drawn a bath for you, unless you prefer to rest longer,” he said.

You blinked. “Really?” That was a kindness you did not expect.

Éomer’s lips tugged upwards. He offered you his hand. Though you hesitated, you slipped your free hand into his. Instinctively you took the furs with you to cover yourself, your face warming down to your neck under the weight of his amused stare.

Your hair was a tangled mess along with the sheets remaining tousled on the bed, and you realized that your body was sore in places you had never felt so. He led you around a simple wooden partition to a wide bath that was built into the ground. Your eyes widened at the luxury of it.

You had noticed that Rohan largely valued comfort and efficiency over ornateness in their architecture, but it seemed they lavished some things with greater detail.

Éomer helped you step into the bath. He took the furs from you, still with that amused glint, but he couldn’t stop himself from taking note of your bare, supple form, what glimpse he was able to get before you lowered yourself into the steaming water. He had explored each and every lovely curve the night before, but you were lovelier to behold in the morning, he thought.

You looked up at him with some hesitance, but there was a question there that he thought he would like to answer.

“Have you already bathed?” you asked.

“Yes,” he nodded, “I will leave you to your leisure. Breakfast will be brought up in a little while.”

“Oh. Yes, thank you,” you said.

Was that a note of disappointment in your tone, in the downturn of your face?

Éomer paused, but he did as he set out to do, leaving you to your bath in peace. He went over to his side of the bed to continue dressing himself, slipping a long shirt over his head that he tucked into his breeches. Though he tried not to let them, his thoughts of you remained.

Meanwhile, you relished in the hot water relieving your sore muscles (and other places). You washed and hummed a little tune to yourself, forgetting that you weren’t entirely alone, despite the partition.

By the time you left the bath, dried off and dressed in a heavy robe over a thin dressing gown, your new husband was already munching on bread and fruit and other good things that were brought up from the kitchens. He welcomed you to sit with him by the fire, where two wide chairs were draped with furs to make them comfortable. You joined him, and the tray of goods rested in between your seats.

“Do you have much to do?” you asked, while buttering a slice of bread. The crust was hard and somewhat sour, but the inside was soft and delicious.

“The only business I must attend to today is to remain kept with my wife,” Éomer said. He glanced up at you, once again capturing your gaze. “As tradition dictates.”

By the Valar, was there no end to how you blushed around this man? You only couldn’t tell if being kept by you was a duty he relished in.

You almost didn’t hear him when he added, “Tomorrow we will see your family off. They ride back to Gondor.”

Belatedly, you nodded. Éomer saw the note of melancholy cross your face.

“I am sure it is…a sooner parting than you would like,” he said.

You offered him a rueful smile. “Yes, but…not as difficult a goodbye as I thought it would be.”

One of his brows rose. “Why is that?”

Drawing in a deep breath, you mustered a little courage to answer him honestly.

“I did not know what to expect when I arrived in Rohan, but its lands have beauty of its own. Its people have integrity and courage, and its noble house is noble indeed,” you said. A small, true smile brightened you when you looked at him. “It is honorable, and kind.”

Éomer blinked in surprise. On his face it was still muted, but it was there. Your words touched him. He cleared his throat, for some reason finding his face a bit warm. In his eyes, you continued to be a wonder. He too hadn’t known what to expect from a woman of Gondor. He knew what many in your country thought of the people of Rohan—simple folk at best, and horse-wild barbarians at worst. With you, he’d mostly expected a haughty, spoiled brat.

He’d never been more willing to be proven wrong. In fact, the more he learned about you, the more beautiful you became.

He reached over, almost hesitant to cover your hand with his larger one. He was suddenly very conscious of his rougher palm in contrast with your soft skin.

“Regardless of how we were entered into this arrangement, I stand by my vows,” he said. “I will honor and protect you, and do my utmost to make you comfortable here in my home.” 

You smiled. Your hand turned under his to curl your fingers around his palm.

“I will also honor and protect you in whatever way I am able. And I will do my utmost for your house, for it is now mine as well,” you replied.

Éomer brushed his thumb over the back of your hand. He rose out of his seat enough to lean over, and he kissed you. It was sincere, but all too brief. You leaned towards him after he broke away, left wanting more as your eyes slid open.

Recognizing that look of desire stirred his own, deep in the pit of his stomach. He tugged on your hand meaningfully and guided you out of your chair, over to him. You tentatively sat across his lap, uttering a laugh when you slid backwards and landed against his chest. Your hand flew there to steady yourself. Éomer clasped it against his heart and claimed you in a deeper, rougher kiss, one fueled by a craving he couldn’t name.

You held his bearded face and hummed sweetly into his mouth. You matched his fervor, your fingers slipping into his hair and instinctively tightening a stronghold. He groaned in response. His hands, large and strong, moved over your side and down your back, while the other squeezed the supple flesh of your hip through your thin gown.

Soon, it wasn’t enough. He slid his arms around your waist and under your knees before he stood with you in his arms. He smiled at your squeal of surprise. It was the first real smile you’d ever seen upon his face. It delighted you to be the one who put it there.

He carried you to back his bed. Our bed.

But still, it was only a matter of lust, if twined with mutual respect and…curiosity.

You did not love him. (Yet.)

AN: Love me some blonde, medieval cowboy Karl Urban. 😘💜

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[chevxyn]

CONFLICT = CHEMISTRY!

in which, you and sae got into a lil conflict outside a football stadium & the paparazzi’s made a false statement that the two of you are dating.

an itoshi sae smau series

written.

act v, ep 044 : disaster | next part

wc : 1k

the drive to the restaurant was not as it used to be, the sensation felt a little more warmer. that time he picked you up, you swore your heart raced a little faster.

he looked good, black trousers with a white buttoned up shirt accompanied with a black tie, as he opened the door for you and closed it.

when you saw the restaurant, it is no doubt, a fancy one. definitely looks like one that would need a reservation to attend.

he opened your door for you, as you were about to. and the moment you did, snaps of pictures could be heard from people around the sidewalk.

he took you to the inside of the restaurant, and the waiter immediately took you guys to a private lounge upstairs, it gave one the most beautiful city view that you could see.

it was set with a dim light, and a table for two was beside the giant window. as the waiter guided the two of you there, sae looked at you.

“you don’t mind if it was a little.. flashy right?” he asked, and you glanced at him, “yeah, of course.” you gave a light chuckle. he nodded, and sat down on the seat across of yours.

the dinner was really something, the things that you ordered had a rich flavor in it. and somewhat, a conversation with sae really made your night.

even tho it was just a simple get to know each other, and turns out, he gave you a lot of interesting information about himself. like how he started football just at the age of one, or how he dislikes french fries cause he thinks it’s unhealthy for him.

you also shared a fair share of laugh especially when he revealed that his weakness was that he really don’t know anything except for football, but what really makes it interesting is that how he never thought about his and rin’s fight as fights, but as his brother’s rebellion stage.

after dinner was over, you just thought oh, it’s just another date for the media again. you really didn’t expect when he took you to a hill. “where are we going?” you questioned, and he glanced at you for a second.

“somewhere to see the city lights better.” he said, you really didn’t expect he’d do this. but you kept quiet, “well, you don’t have any plans, right?” he asked and you nodded, “i don’t.”

“good.” he said, you can feel the wind getting colder as he took you farther to the top, and the two of you arrived to a scenic overlook.

when you got out of the car, you could see the scene from above was breathtaking, as the moon accompanied the night sky that was full with stars. “so, why are we here?” you questioned again, and he leaned into the rails, “i thought we needed some alone time, from the camera clicks.”

but, isn’t that the whole point that we go on these dates? is what you wondered, but you didn’t question it due to the fear of him getting annoyed at you.

the silent spoke so much of this moment, you looked at his face, as again, his face really do look handsome in this lights, as you admired him.

his eyes turned from the scenery to you. and your eyes widened before looking away, it was awkward. “is there something in my face?”

“no, no. nothing.” you said, “you were awfully looking at it weird.” whoops. it feels like you’re playing a game of choices. make the right words or you’re gonna die.

“i was just..” you couldn’t get your words out and he just letted out a small huff, “admiring me?” he said, a hint of sarcasm was heard, but your heart betrayed your mind that was trying to convince you it wasn’t like that.

“i don’t mind.” he said, switching his glance from you to the city once more. yet he could see your hands trembling a bit, and by some reasons, he took your hand and held it.

and the trembling faded, the two of you were stuck like that for a while him by your side, holding his hand just focused on the city, yet your mind raced with thoughts, as his was not so different.

he did not know why he would do this, to somebody, or more specifically to you, someone that he was so sure that could be just acquaintances.

he hated the way his heart would increase the speed near you, like how it would when he plays in the field. he really never knew of what the feeling of liking someone. but he is so sure this is not how it feels.

so why is he so obsessed with how you are right now? why does he want to hold your hand, and stay close for just a little longer?

this time, he was the one who unconsciously admiring you, as you noticed it, you spoke, “what?”

“[name].” he muttered your name, “why is rin so protective of you?” he asked, and you let out a small hum, “i don’t know.”

“maybe he’s just a good friend.” you said the obvious, and sae looked at you. “do you like him?”

“no!” you answered almost immediately, after that deeptalk you had with rin last time, you never imagined you being more than close-friends with rin.

“i see him as, my younger brother. that’s all.” you gave him a subtle smile, as he heard that, he looked at you, to your lips, back to the eyes, “so, you don’t mind.. if i,”

your stomach felt like it was flying with butterflies, you raised your eyebrow, his position changed as he leaned in. and before you knew it, he kissed you.

you froze, this isn’t what you expected at all. wasn’t this supposed to be just.. a fake date for the media? your eyes was still opened, before your mind got ahead of you.

and you kissed him back, it took you 5 seconds before you felt your emotions of regret came, and you pulled away first.

“hm?” he looked at you, your face looks conflicted. and he didn’t like that reaction, “what’s wrong—“

“can you take me home? please.” you just said, and he realized what he just did. oh.

why did he do that? even he wondered it, he just wanted you and couldn’t hold back anymore, but he went quiet before nodding, “i see, of course [name].”

taglist (open) : @vaelils, @levihanmyotp, @kaz-0e, @jaeyuuns, @narcjsistx, @sxftiebee, @tojirin, @nensi, @banzaitaka, @whisperofae, @orphicarchive, @bubybubsters, @sellomaybe, @s4-mmy, @nomyimi, @rwbie, @chuuyalvover, @suksatoru, @x3nafix, @misscandygirl122, @imas1mpp, @literallyushiwaka, @y-sabell-a, @pctterheadd, @swagkittybear, @luvvmae, @luvynii, @syarc0re, @saiongfs, @lovessen

©chevxyn

[reidtina]

Restrained

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Content warnings: +18 MDI sex, roleplay, handcuffs, petnames, orgasm, creampie (youre on the pill tho and youre married), idk

Word count: 4.9k

Summary: Spencer Reid and Y/N had been married for nearly 10 years, and things got a little boring in the bedroom department, so they decided to spice things up a little. Tonight they're using his handcuffs for something other than arresting criminals...

a/n: this is my first spencer fic, so idk if its good, hope yall like it just as much as I liked writing it. Btw, its also on ao3, as always. love you guys. If you enjoy it pls like and repost

You and Spencer had been dating for nearly 10 years (9 years, 8 months and 24 days, like he pointed out earlier), and had been married for about half of this time, and you quickly found out that the whole “couples stop having sex after a while of being married” thing is not entirely bullshit. It’s not like you didn’t ever have sex, but with work and him being out of town all the time things just got colder, you did have sex, but it wasn’t so exciting and to be honest, as much as you were attracted to each other, it felt more like a chore. So that’s why you decided to try something new every week, you missed the beginning stages of dating and how a minor touch turned into you two sweating and trying to breath as your bodies collided in the most delicious dance.

Tonight’s idea wasn’t entirely new, you always had a thing for him wearing his FBI bulletproof vest or anything that reminded you that he was an FBI agent, a really hot one, by the way. And when you brought up the idea, he was more than willing to try, he had been meaning to try new things as well, as he had read that it’s a good idea to spice things up so the marriage don’t become boring and falls apart.

So tonight, when he got home from a work trip, still wearing his suit and looking extra hot, he decided to try out your suggestion, taking the opportunity as you had said it’d be even hotter if you weren’t expecting it, adding spontaneity to the mix.

He opened the door just to find you on the couch, reading a book and drinking a glass of wine wearing only an old shirt of his and pajama shorts. He grins at the sight, he loves to watch you read, but it makes him want to rip your clothes off. When you look up at him, you know what’s going to happen next.

“I’ve heard someone here hasn’t been exactly a good girl” he feels a little embarrassed to say this, but the look on your face quickly makes him lose any embarrassment he could possible feel.

“Am I not a good girl?” you ask as you put down your book on the side table next to the glass of wine. He pretends to consider this as he sits down next to you on the couch “Well, most of the time you are a very good girl… but you can be naughty sometimes too.”

You smirk, starting to enjoy this “Oh, yeah?” you ask almost in a whisper.

“Oh, don’t play coy with me,” he says, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “I can think of a few times just last week when you were being very naughty”

“Like when?” you whisper.

“Oh, I could give you a list if I wanted to,” he answers, his lips now grazing your neck. “But I can think of one specific instance that really stood out.”

“And what was it?” you genuinely had no idea what he could say, considering that with this whole “let’s spice up our marriage” thing you had been having insane amounts of sex and doing all sorts of new things.

His hand slips under your shirt, his fingertips gently tracing along your skin. “Let’s just say that little stunt you pulled in front of the bedroom mirror a week ago really got me going.”

Now you remember, last week he fingered you in front of the full length mirror you have in your room and made you watch. You lean into his ear and whisper “Oh, you mean when you fingered me in front of the mirror so I could watch it?”

He shivers at your words, his hand clutching at your hip. “Yes, that, exactly that,” he growls in your ear. “I really loved that little show you put on.”

You raise your eyebrow in a fake surprise and ask “Did you?”

He nods, his hand slowly moving up your torso again. “Mhmm, I especially enjoyed the sounds you were making.”

You smirk and say “I can't help myself when your fingers are inside me”. His hand finally reaches its destination, cupping your breast, he’s always glad you don’t wear a bra when you’re home. “I know you can’t. And I certainly enjoy it.” He nips at your earlobe, his breath hot against your skin. “I was so excited about it, in fact, that I wanted to reward you right then.”

“Maybe you should reward me right now.” you whisper back to him. A low growl escapes his throat as he pulls back slightly to look you in the eyes. “Oh really? You think you’re ready for a reward now? Don’t you think you’ve been a bad girl?”

“I guess it’s your job to find out, Agent Reid.” you say, the title you just called him making you even wetter.

He moves closer, his body pressing against yours. “You know, I’ll have to conduct a thorough investigation to make sure you’re a good girl…” You chuckle and reply “Do what you must, agent.”

He grins, clearly enjoying the roleplay. “Oh, I plan on it.” He suddenly stands, gently grabbing your hand and pulling you up along with him. “Now, come with me. I need to thoroughly investigate.” You stand up and he guides you down the short hallway to your bedroom, walking backwards and keeping his eyes firmly fixed on you. He pushes the door open and steps inside, pulling you in behind him. “Now, we’ll need somewhere to conduct this investigation…” He looks around the room pretending to look for something, before his gaze settles on the bed, a knowing look in his eyes.

He pushes you back towards the bed, gently guiding you down to sit on the edge of the mattress. “First, we’ll need to begin searching for any evidence of bad behavior…”  He steps back slightly and pretends to look you over intently, as if inspecting you for any indications of misconduct.

“Mmm, I’m not seeing anything so far…” he says, his eyes roaming over your body. “But, just to be safe, I will need you to lie down, please.” Not even a second after he said that, you’re laying down on the bed.

He steps forward again, standing in between your legs, his gaze hungrily taking in the sight of you. “Mmm, much better. The more evidence there is, the better…” He slowly reaches down, his hands roaming up your bare legs, he loves it when all you’re wearing is one of his old shirts and really short shorts. “Now,” he continues, his voice lower and huskier now. “How far does the evidence go?”

His hands continue to move up up your legs, reaching the hem of your shirt and pulling it up slightly. “Let’s start here,” he mutters, his hands gently pushing your shirt up further, exposing your stomach. “I need to make sure no bad behavior is hiding under here…” His hands continue up, inching your shirt even higher as he takes his time inspecting your body for any signs of “bad behavior”.

 “Looks all clear so far… but I can’t be too careful…” He lifts the shirt up over your head, gently removing it and tossing it aside. “Ah, much better. Now I can see my evidence a lot clearer.”  He grins mischievously, his eyes raking over your bare chest. “And I see a few things I should inspect more closely…”

You breathe deeply as he gets closer to your breasts with his face and you can feel his hot breath on your bare skin. He looks up at you, his eyes full of lust. “Mmm yes, I see some very important evidence here that I need to get a closer look at…”

He grins at your response, his lips now ghosting over your skin. “Excellent. I’ll need to take my time with these…they’re very important to the case.” He moves closer, his mouth finally making contact with your skin as he slowly starts peppering kisses along your chest and you moan softly. He smirks at the sound of your moan, his lips curving against your skin. “Yes, don’t hold back your sounds, sweetheart. I need to hear every response.” He continues kissing across your chest, his tongue occasionally darting out to taste your skin.

He moves in, his lips hovering just above your skin as he speaks. “You don’t mind if I have a closer look, do you? You have to collaborate with this federal investigation” You shake your head “I don’t mind, go ahead, agent.”

“So far, this evidence is turning out to be very good…” he mutters against your skin, moving towards your right nipple. “But I think I need to investigate further…” His mouth moves closer to your nipple, and you can feel the heat of his breath against your sensitive skin. “I see something very interesting right here…” He stops just short of your nipple, looking up at you with a sly grin. “But before I get started, I’ll to ask you a few questions, if you don’t mind.”

You sigh with disappointment and say “Go ahead.” He grins, enjoying teasing you, his mouth still hovering tantalizingly close to your breast. “Good. This won’t take long, I just need to make sure you’re being honest with me, sweetheart.” He pauses, waiting for a hint of confirmation from you before continuing, you nod.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, his breath tickling your skin. “Now, the first question is… do you know why you’re being investigated today?”

“No, sir, why?” you ask in fake innocence. He smiles, continuing his teasing. “Well, reports claim that you’ve been quite naughty recently…” He lifts his head slightly, his eyes meeting yours. “Is that true? Have you been naughty lately?”

“That wouldn't be me, agent.” you say, trying to hold back a grin.

“You know lying to law enforcement is illegal, right? And the sources say you’ve been doing some very naughty things…” he counters, his lips still a breath away from your skin. “Oh, yeah? Like what?” you try to look surprised. He grins again, his lips now grazing your skin. “Oh, various things…but especially this little incident that just happened a week ago…” He leans in closer to your ear as he whispers, “I think you know what I’m speaking of.”

“I have no idea, agent, what is it?” you want to hear him saying. He laughs softly. “Oh, don’t play coy with me. I know how good your memory is…” He moves back, his gaze holding yours firmly. “Do I need to remind you what happened, miss?”

“Yes, agent Reid.”

He smirks, enjoying the roleplay more and more. “Okay, maybe I can jog your memory, then.” A shiver runs through him as he speaks, remembering the night in question. “Think about a week ago. What happened with us in front of the mirror?”

You smirk just from thinking of it. “Do you mean when you fingered me to tears and made me watch?” He lets out a soft chuckle, his fingers digging into your legs slightly. “Yes, exactly that… and how did that make you feel?”

“Good as fuck… sir.” You pause before calling him sir, still a little shy about the roleplay. He laughs, his teeth scraping against your collarbone. “I know it did. You were making the most delicious sounds…”  He leans in close to your ear, his voice dropping to a low whisper. “But don’t you think that was naughty behavior?”

“Maybe it was, agent.” You pretend to look innocent, but deep down you just want him to punish you in the hottest ways possible. He chuckles, clearly not buying your act. “Maybe it was? I think it was.” He moves his head back to look you in the eyes again, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. “And do you think naughty behavior deserves a punishment?”

“Absolutely.” You nod, eager for whatever punishment he decides to give you. He grins, clearly enjoying this game just as much as you. “Good answer. So you admit that you deserve to be punished for being naughty?”

“Yes.”

“And if you admit that you deserve a punishment, then you should also agree to take this punishment like a good girl, shouldn’t you?”

“Absolutely, agent.”

“Correct. And luckily I have just the punishment in mind for you…” He moves back, standing up straight. “Since you seem so eager for your punishment, I think I’ll just start with it right now.” He looks down at you, a devilish gleam in his eyes. “Now, I need you to do something for me, okay?”

“What is it?” you ask, barely able to wait for him to touch you.

He smiles, his fingers gently tracing along your legs. “I need you to sit up for me, please.”

 You sit back up as he asked.

“Good girl” he says, his voice soft and approving. “Now, I’m just going to grab something quickly, alright?” He turns away, grabbing his handcuffs from his drawer in the nightstand.

He looks back at you, holding up the handcuff with a smirk. “Perfect. Now, hold your hands out, please.”

“Such a good girl.” He says when you hold your hands in front of your body. He moves forward, carefully handcuffing you. He looks down at his work, inspecting your hands with a nod. “Looks good. Now, lie back down.” As you lie down, he moves back up to the bed, crawling up to kneel between your legs. “Now, I have another request for you.” He pauses, his hand gently trailing up your legs. “I need you to keep your legs open for me… don’t move them at all.”

You open your legs, and now your panties are picking out from the waistband of your shorts. He grins, his eyes roaming hungrily over your body. “Good girl. You know how to listen well…” He reaches down, his fingers sliding up under your shorts, slowly pushing it down to reveal more of your skin. “But you don’t move your legs until I say so, do you understand?”

“Understood, agent Reid.” you say and feel kinda proud you’re also a Reid. “Very good.” He moves closer, now hovering just above you. “You’re a perfect little canvas to work with right now.” He rests a hand on your stomach, tracing small circles with his fingertips. “But I do need to know something else first…”

“What is it, agent?” you ask genuinely curious and eager for him to just touch you already. He grins, clearly enjoying the fact that you’re eager and desperate for his touch. “I need to know how badly you want this. How badly do you want me to touch you right now?”

“Really bad.”

He laughs lightly at your response. “I can see that. But I need you to tell me in words. How badly do you want me?”

“I want you really bad.”

He leans down, his mouth hovering just above your body. “And I know you’re desperate for my touch, aren’t you?”

“I am.” That couldn’t be more true.

He moves down, now resting on his forearms as he positions himself between your legs. “I can see that. You’re practically trembling… begging for me to touch you…”

“It’s torture.” You say.

“I know. But I need to be thorough. I need to collect all the evidence that I can… and I’m finding plenty of evidence that you’re being desperate and needy…”

“Does it mean I'm being a bad girl?” you ask teasingly.

He lets out a soft chuckle. “Yes, I would say it does. You’re having such a desperate, needy reaction to me right now… it’s incredibly bad girl behavior.” He leans down and kisses your inner thigh. “But you’re also being a good girl, because you haven’t closed your legs yet…”

“I'm not all bad, you see?” You smirk.

He smiles up at you, his mouth still trailing kisses on your thigh. “Mhm, and I’ve also discovered that you’re being a very good girl, because you’ve been so eager and compliant… it’s making the evidence collection very easy for me. But you know what I really want to do right now?” He looks up at you, a gleam in his eyes.

“What?”

He moves back up, his mouth hovering just above yours. “I really want to taste you…”

A smirk takes over your mouth as you ask. “And what's stopping you from doing so?”

He laughs, his lips just barely grazing against yours as he speaks. “Nothing. But first I need a little confirmation from you, sweetheart.”

“Confirmed.” You say softly as you nod eagerly.

“Perfect.”

He presses his lips to yours in a deep, hungry kiss. As he kisses you, his hands begin to roam up and down your body, gently exploring every inch of skin.

He gently tugs at the fabric of your shorts without breaking the kiss. “Mmm, this is in the way.”

“Take it off, agent.” you whisper.

He smirks at your eagerness, and then moves back, his hands moving to the hem of your shorts. “I will. But first I have something else I want to do.”

“Something ELSE?” You sigh in frustration “What is it now?”

He laughs lightly at you reaction. “My needy girl is impatient, is she?” He reaches up and pushes his hand into the side of your hair, tugging gently until your head is tilted back. “I just want to ask you one more question, sweetheart.”

“What?”

He leans in, his mouth by your ear. “Do you know why I want to taste you so badly?”

“Why, sir?” you shiver at the feeling of his breath on your skin.

“Because you look so delicious right now.”  You smirk at the complement.

He moves back, his gaze raking over your body. “With your arms restricted and your little short barely covering your thighs… it’s too tempting. I need a taste.”

“Have it, please.” You’re begging now.

He grins, clearly amused by how desperate you are. “Mmm, since you asked so nicely, I think I will.” He moves down, his mouth going to your thighs, slowly kissing and running his tongue along your skin.

His mouth travels higher and higher, until he finally reaches the edge of your shorts. He looks up at you, a glint in his eyes. “These are a bit of a blockade, aren’t they?”

You nod and say “I hate those.”

He smiles, his fingers hooking under the waistband of your shorts and your panties as well. “Then I’ll just have to take care of that problem…” He starts to tug at your shorts and panties, slowly sliding both of them down your legs. “There we go…”He pulls them off, dropping them to the ground beside the bed. He looks down at you, a look of pure hunger in his eyes. “Mmm, now I have complete access… and I’m going to enjoy taking my time with you.”

He lowers himself back down, his mouth continuing its journey along your body. His lips and tongue trail up your legs, then along your inner thighs until finally, they’re where you want them most. He pauses for a moment, his eyes meeting yours. “You taste so sweet… just like I knew you would.” You moan at the praise.

He smiles, clearly enjoying the noise you’re making. “I like that sound.”

He starts to move again, his tongue flickering against your flesh as he explores it. “So needy and desperate… my little sweet treat…” You can feel his nose on your clit while his tongue is exploring your pussy. He moans softly, enjoying the feeling of your body trembling underneath him, the vibration of the moan stimulating you even more. “You’re being so good for me, sweetheart.”

He continues to use his mouth to devour you as if he can’t get enough of you. “I’m going to drive you insane.” He says, but he’s already driving you fucking crazy, he always does, no one eats pussy like Spencer Reid.

“You already are.” you say through heavy breaths, your whole body trembling. He laughs lightly. “But I’m not done yet.” He looks up at you, his eyes holding yours as his tongue continues to work. “I’m going to play with you until I’m satisfied… and right now, I am far from satisfied.”

The look on his eyes combined with his pussy eating abilities make your whole body tenses up and then, a few seconds later, it relaxes in an orgasm as you scream. He grins, clearly pleased with your response. “There it is.” He says moving back up your body, his mouth now on your neck. “I love making you scream.”

“Fuck, Spencer.” you say, trying to catch your breath again. He laughs against your skin. “I love hearing you swear.” He presses his body against yours, his mouth by your ear. “And I’m not done with you yet.”

“Thankfully, cause I'm not either.” You say, already ready for more of him.

He chuckles, clearly enjoying your enthusiasm. “I knew you’d want more.” He rolls over onto his back, pulling you up on top of him so that you’re now straddling his hips. “I’m not going to release your hands just yet.” He looks up at you, his hands going to your hips. “But you look so pretty like this… all tied up on top of me…”

You smirk, his compliments still making you blush, even after being married for so long, maybe that’s true love. He smiles, he knows and loves the fact that you’re still so affected by his words. “And it gives me so many possibilities.” He looks up at you, a glint in his eyes. “For example, I could just pin you down and do whatever I want to you right now…”

“… but instead I’m going to let you do the work.”

He loosens his grip on your hips slightly, giving you the freedom to move. “How does that sound to you, sweetheart?”

You nod “I like it, agent.”

“Good girl.” He smiles, his hands roaming up and down your sides. “Now I want you to start riding my thigh, sweetheart.” You start moving your hips back and forth, creating friction between his pants and your clit. He moans softly, his hands still on your hips. “There you go, princess. Just like that… nice and slow. You look so pretty like this.” He has always liked the sensation of you pleasuring yourself on him. He moans softly, the opposite of your own loud moans, his hands gripping your hips a little tighter. “You’re so needy and desperate… it’s driving me wild.”

“Can you please fuck me?” you finally ask.

He grins at your forwardness, clearly enjoying the effect he’s having on you. “You want me to, sweetheart?”

You pause your movements and nod. “Yes, agent.”

“Then you’re going to have to beg for it.” You’d get on your fucking knees and beg if you had to. “Please, agent Reid, you said you'd reward me if you found I've been a good girl, and I have, you didn't find any evidence of bad behavior.”

He laughs lightly at your pleading as if he hadn’t asked for it. “I did say that, didn't I?” He moves his hands up to your sides, his thumb tracing circles on your skin. “And you’ve been such a good girl for me, haven’t you?”

“Yes, I have.”

He smiles, his hands roaming up and down your body. “Then I suppose you should have your reward, shouldn’t you?”

“Please.”

He moves his hands down to your thighs, his fingers trailing up and down your skin. “Okay, sweetheart. I’m going to give you what you want. But first I need you to get off me and lie back down on the bed. Hands above your head, just how I like it.”

You smirk and do as he told you to. He grins, clearly enjoying the fact that you’re obeying him. “Good girl. You’re just being so obedient for me, and that’s how I like you… so obedient and pliable. Doing whatever I tell you to, no questions asked.”

He moves up, now hovering over you. “Now, I want you to keep your hands above your head. Don’t moving them at all, understood, sweetheart?”

“Yes, agent.”

“Good girl.”

He starts to kiss and bite your skin, his mouth moving down to your collarbone. His hands roam up and down your sides, his touch leaving a trail of heat across your skin. He moves back up to your mouth, his lips crashing into yours in a deep kiss. His mouth devours yours, his tongue exploring every inch of your mouth.

He looks down at you, his eyes practically eating your body. “You look so pretty like this… all tied up and desperate… so obedient… and all for me…” He leans down, his mouth attacking your neck. “And I’m going to enjoy every second of this.”

He pulls back from the kiss, his eyes roaming down your body. His hands move to his belt, unbuckling it with practiced ease. He looks up at you as he takes off  his blazer and throws it on the floor then takes off his tie and opens his shirt, revealing his body.

When he already threw all off it on the floor, he leans in, his mouth attacking your neck once more, leaving a trail of kisses and bites along your skin. His hands roam down your body, his touch leaving goosebumps in its wake.

He gets up and looks down at you, taking in the sight of you in nothing as he unzips his pants, pushes them down and tosses them to the side, leaving him in his boxer briefs. “Mmm, now we’re more equal, aren’t we, sweetheart?”

You chuckle “Almost”

He smirks, his eyes roaming over your body. “Almost.” He agrees as he pulls his boxers off revealing his big dick and then crawls over you, his body covering yours. He looks down at you, a smile spreading across his face. “Now there’s no barriers between us.”

“Like it should be” you whisper.

He smiles pleased by your answer. “That’s exactly right, sweetheart.” He nuzzles into your neck, his lips trailing kisses along your skin. He then places his dripping tip on your entrance and looks you in the eye as he slides it in. He’s watching your reaction as he pushes in, his hands gripping your thighs, his eyes locked on your face the whole time. “You feel so good” he says and you both moan when he’s fully inside you.

He looks down at you, his face full of need. “You feel so good around me, sweetheart. So tight and so eager….”

He moans softly, his grip on your thighs tightening. “I’m not going to last long if you keep doing that…” he says when you moan his name into his ear.

You put your legs up his shoulders, making him hit the spot that makes you both go crazy. He hisses as he hits it, his head rolling back. “Fuuuck, you’re going to make me lose control.“ You’re nearly crying outta pleasure and it's getting hard to keep your hands up.

“I can tell you’re getting tense… you’re not going to be able to hold out for much longer, are you?” You shake your head and say “No.” He knows you and your body so well, that’s the result of nearly 10 years of marriage.

He grins, loving the power he has over you in this moment. "But I'm not done with you yet sweetheart."

Your breath becomes heavier and faster as you’re reaching the second orgasm of the night “I’m getting close.” you manage to say through moans and heavy breaths.

He keeps the pace steady. "I want you to let yourself go. I want you to give into the feeling." his words were all you needed to allow the orgasm to take over your body.

He feels you tighten around him as you orgasm and he whispers in your ear "That's it… good girl.”

He keeps moving, his movements more urgent, more desperate now as he’s trying to reach his own orgasm. He can tell he’s getting close, the feeling starting to overwhelm him, his muscles tensing. “Sweetheart… I can’t hold back any longer…”

“Cum inside me.” You ask, but he always did, you were on the pill anyways, but saying it felt so hot.

He starts moving faster, driven by your words of encouragement. His breath quick as his hands slide down your body leaving his fingerprints all over your skin. He’s getting close, you can tell. His body is tense, his eyes locked on yours. He shudders with pleasure as he reaches his orgasm, his eyes locked on yours, his breath ragged and labored. “That was incredible.” He says as he collapses on top of you, his body trembling with aftershocks.

You take a deep breath before agreeing. “Yes, it was.”

He buries his face in your neck, still trying to catch his breath. “Sweetheart, you were amazing. You are amazing. Always”

You smile at the praise and say your favorite words. “I love you, Spencer.”

He smiles back as he replies “I love you, Y/N.” he pauses before saying. “Now I need to get those handcuffs’ keys, we don’t want you restrained forever”

You chuckle, “Oh, you better know where they are.”

[gears-twisting-and-turning]

Stex x reader request if you don’t mind! How would greaseball react if you were “his” coach and after a fight you were instead racing with Electra, and vice versa (Electra’s component racing with GB after you argue?) thank you I love your imagines!! 🚂 🩷

I may or may not have gone a bit to far with this request- It was so juicy I just had to kind of go wild. I really hope you like it :]

She/they/him pronouns for Electra by the way

Also assumed it was like old GB + Electra :]

Cw - yelling, cursing, people not communicating omg just say something, but also don't it makes it juicier <3

---

Greaseball would be pissed to say the least. Yes he knows he kind of messed up, but you fucking went with the walking talking Dutch?… American?…. French??? Whatever walking talking flag he is!

Finding out later that it was technically his own fault, since you were trying to get back at him for the argument that had happened earlier would kind of send his entire world spirling. 

Hey hasn’t he seen this song and dance before? That’s crazy- 

Voices were getting louder and louder by the second. You have had enough of Greaseball’s constant cheating and you didn’t want to race with him anymore if he continued to do so. Don’t get it twisted, you were fine on the race track, you even could throw in a punch yourself, you loved doing it.

It was the fact it was getting tiring, you loved the thrill of racing, but you wished it would for once come out without dents in your body because he had uncoupled you too hard while standing off with someone in the middle of the track. Or have the other engines pull on you to make the champion slower.

When you had told Greaseball this, things didn’t go that well. It turned into a screaming match between the two, currently you had tuned him out, used to his loud yelling. That was until certain words hit your ear.

“Well if it’s such a problem, then why don’t you find a ‘better engine’ to race with?!” He didn’t give you a moment to process as he turned around and skated away. You knew you had been uncoupled, yet instead of sadness and regret that he expected you to feel, you only felt your blood boil hotter. 

You weren’t going to stand for this, this loud, abrasive asshole wasn’t going to treat you like a child and put you in the corner for a time out unless you knew how to behave. You skated up to the electric’s dock building, marching right in without a second thought.

Soon enough Krupp had rolled up to you, making you stop right in your tracks as the stocky armaments truck stood in your path. “Halt!” He said in a firm tone, making you realize just how crazy you probably looked. With a sigh you held up your hands. “Sorry if I came off as aggressive, I just need to talk to Electra.” “Electra isn’t taking any visitors currently.” Krupp answered, not asking why you were here as it wasn’t his business and he didn’t seem particularly interested in your reason. You felt your anger return for a moment, but you held back. You took a deep breath. “It’s important, I promise you that he’ll want to know.”

Krupp raised an eyebrow, no doubt confused under those sunglasses of his, before looking back. He opened his mouth to respond, until you quickly added. “It’s about the race and Greaseball.” The truck looked at you for a moment, before looking over at Purse who happened to be lingering near.

“Purse, get Electra. Tell them Greaseball’s coach has something to talk to her about.” 

Soon enough the red, white and blue electric engine stood in front of you. “You better have a good reason why I have been called.” They started, looking down at you from their freakishly tall height with a glare. 

You just wanted this over with, but you had to persist. There was only one thing that Greaseball couldn’t stand, something that was easy to get underneath his skin. “I want to race with you.” 

Electra faltered only for a moment, you didn’t know if it was because of your surprising authoritative tone, or if it was because of the contents of the sentence you just spoke to him. You could physically see the several questions that bounced in her head, before she shook her head. “Why?”

“Because after I brought up a valid concern he uncoupled me and left me in the dust ‘to think about what I’ve done’. I’m not letting him walk over me…” You trailed off, if this was going to work you’d have to put in a bit of… persuasion to get Electra to agree. “And what would piss him off more, than me going for the handsome, speedy electric that would leave him in the dust?” You said skating around her, softly touching their arm back and other arm as you circled her. 

For a moment Electra glared down at you, yet it was clear he was thinking about it. “Deal.” He said after a bit and you knew it was going to be perfect. 

It was time, you stood ready for control to announce your new race partner with you behind him. You couldn’t wait to see Greaseball’s face when he realized he had messed up and you weren’t going to take this back unless he started growling on his knees for you.

You heard control call out Electra’s name and soon you felt yourself being pulled forwards by the electric engine, the crowd cheering as you two came out of the docks and underneath the beautiful light that illuminated the both of you perfectly. 

After taking in the beautiful scenery with the crowd’s excited cheering in for a bit, you turned your head towards Greaseball who seemed to shake off the look of surprise on his face and then gave you a look that was perfectly between the emotions of anger and hurt.

You could only give him a mean smirk, before letting your face fall and let him see how pissed you were at him. Further than that the race was a blur, all you knew is that you won with Electra in front of you.

After the race was over the consequences came in full force. Although you had tuned out the way, Greaseball came up to Electra and the both of them got into a verbal fighting match, until Electra decided to stomp away in a childish fit of rage. Luckily you were already uncoupled, but that left you and Greaseball alone.

“You dared to go to that damn electric just to humiliate me?!” He roared in anger, turning towards you. You gave him a harsh glare and held up your hand. “I will not be yelled at Greaseball. If you have a problem, talk like a fucking adult.” 

Greaseball faltered, almost as if he forgot you wouldn’t let yourself get walked all over. He stepped back, anger still visible in his eyes, but clearly didn’t have a proper way to express that other than yelling. 

You took a deep breath. “Okay I’ll admit that was petty of me, but can you really blame me after you left me in the dust like that? One argument was all it took for you to leave me.” You said, the hurt finally seeping into your tone as all of your own anger finally disappeared and made way for the sadness you felt. 

“I-... Fuck, I'm sorry.” Greaseball said, practically forcing the words out of his throat as if they were foreign to him. “I’m too.” You simply responded, it was exhausting enough to keep all that anger up. You kind of wished to already be back in his arms and forget about the stupid race.

Luckily you got your wish as the diesel engine skated closer towards you and put his strong arms around you. For a moment you let your guard down, leaning into the embrace of him as the two of you stood there in silence.

“Was he better than me?”

“I never want to be behind an electric again.” You responded matter of factly. “I like the purr your engine gives.”

---

Electra would not be off any better than Greaseball. Although their anger is a lot more stomping their feet with a chance of getting a zap sent towards you. You’re just lucky he would never hurt you like that.

Not only did you not race with them, but it’s with that loud, toxic masculine, diesel??? She cannot even fathom why the hell in your right mind you would race with a filthy, greasy engine like Greaseball. 

They wouldn’t even know what to do with herself. You might just send him absolutely spirling or fainting in his compartment’s arms like when Pearl decided to go with Greaseball…. hey are you getting deja vu or is that just me? 

That’s it, you were done being side lined. You understood Electra racing with Volta, she was by far the best choice out of all of you as she was composed, knew how to handle herself and was positively elegant on the racing track. 

Not to mention she was part of your group and yet there you were, standing and staring at this new observation car that suddenly showed up. Apparently Volta had a headache (What an amazing lie, Purse) and couldn’t race with Electra anymore, so apparently she was the next best option and was chosen to race with them.

You knew that it wasn’t Purse’s fault as he was just following orders, but you couldn’t help but feel a little salty here. Not only were you the next best person to race with them, he was your fucking partner. So now you were cast aside like some toy just because Electra found this newer, prettier thing to race with.

You had tried to bring it up to Electa, but you only got met with. “Do not question me, baby.” With a sharp tone that made you almost want to cry. Being so harshly rejected by your own partner and you were supposed to just… take it lying down?! You didn’t think so.

With newfound determination you managed to sneak away from the electric engines and the rest of the components to find the diesel you were looking for. It wasn’t hard as he was loud and currently was with his rolling stock and the rest of the international trains, doing their usual engine thing.

“Greaseball.” You called out, causing the world champion to whirl around to face you. He looked you up and down with a cautious look, before raising his chin to try and seem bigger. “What do you want, electric?” He asked, slightly puffing up his chest.

“Calm down, I don’t want trouble. I have… I guess a favor to ask.” You said while skating a bit closer to him. Two of his rolling stock buddies seemed to want to lunge out, but he stopped them by holding his arms out to the side. “I’m listening.” Greaseball said as he skated closer to you in turn.

“I want to race with you.” You swear you could see his eyes bugging out of his eye sockets as he fully straightened himself out. “I’m sorry I don’t think I heard you.” He said putting his finger towards your face.

You simply slapped his hand away. “I want to race with you. I’ve been side lined one too many times. I don’t mind if it’s by my fellow compartments, but some random new girl isn’t going to cut it. I’m going to show him what I’m made of on the racing track and I need your help to do that.”

A wicked smile suddenly crossed Greaseball’s face. “Sounds good, I’m in.” He said as he looked back at the rolling stock. “I’ll be back, I think me and this one have some training to do.” He said, putting a hand around your waist as he led you over to the training tracks.

With the blink of an eye it was racing day and you knew exactly what to do. You had shined your outfit and you looked your absolute best. You were gunning for surprise, a jaw drop and a childish stomp on the floor like a bunny that was mad. 

Control suddenly said Greaseball’s name and you were pulled forwards into the wonderful sound of a cheering crowd, big bright lights and the wind in your hair as he put on a show of how he was going to win.

Your eyes immediately found Electra who’s neck snapped towards you and Greaseball the moment she heard your name called out by control after Greaseball’s. For a moment you thought they pulled some wires with how their eyes twitched, but it was exactly the reaction you were looking for.

They didn’t seem to realize the race was about to start, until Pearl had touched their shoulder and looked at him in concern. You just looked forward with a smirk as you made sure you were ready for the race yourself.

The race was like a whirlwind, but it was far from done even though it was over now. You had won with Greaseball and you knew Electra wasn’t going to be happy. You stood alone having already said your goodbyes to Greaseball after the race, waiting for Electra.

Soon enough you hear him stomping up from behind you. “What was that about?” They demanded in an eerily cold and sharp tone which made you flinch and almost prepare for a zap. “That was me wanting to race, Electra.” You responded as you turned around to face her with a frown.

“With that diesel? How could you betray me like that?!” He raised their voice as they towered over you with their blue eyes staring holes inside of you. “Oh so I have to just be okay with you getting a new play toy?!” You asked, tears in your eyes as you got choked up on your own emotions.

“Fuck! I didn’t want to cry!” You yelled out in frustration, you had tried to promise yourself you’d be brave when confronting Electra and yet all you could do was think about the hurt that you felt when they chose Pearl.

Yet when you looked back up at Electra, all of their anger had vanished. “I’m… so sorry.” They said almost defeated and you felt like you had to get your ears checked out by Wrench, did he just say he was sorry?

“I didn’t want to make you feel that way. I- There’s no real excuse for this.” Electra said clearly, opting out of explaining as well. “Just don’t go back to that diesel.” She said, trying to keep her composure of the confidence they normally possessed. 

You couldn’t keep back any longer, you just skated forwards and into their arms. “I’m sorry too, for going to Greaseball. I just wanted to prove myself.” You murmured into their chest as he leaned down and kissed the top of your head.

“I know and you did.”

[saintvainglorious]

Fics I Enjoyed in January - DC Comics Fic Rec List Part 2

I am still neck-deep in DC fandom this month and the fics have been so so good. Unlike last time, I am too tired to write mini summaries/reviews, so I'm going to feature my favorite quote from each fic instead.

My first DC Comics fic rec list is here!

Floor Plans by @oh-mother-of-darkness (Teen & Up, 1k, 2016) “I really didn’t want to die,” he finished. “I was kind of hoping if I laid here long enough, I would remember what that felt like.”

Losing two brothers in six months takes an emotional toll.

almost right by @bitimdrake (Teen & Up, 3k, 2020) He desperately wishes that he didn’t know what Dick’s cheekbone feels like under a gauntleted fist.

Bruce sucks in a breath, hand raising to fix the cowl. Dick flinches back.

but more with love by @danishsweethearts (Teen & Up, 3k, 2022) Dick wakes up one morning, groggy from a dream that he thinks might’ve been about the circus and also about his favourite car and also about how lonely he is, and realizes that he can’t remember what his mother’s voice sounds like anymore.

O Robin, Robin, wherefore art thou Robin?

The Mechanics of a Hug by @sohotthateveryonedied (General Audiences, 4k, 2017) “You know… that crushing sense of depression? Like,” Dick chews his lip. “It’s. A physical weight. Makes it hard to breathe?” “Yeah,” Tim says, soft. He smiles, wryly. “I sort of hoped you didn’t, though.”

“So,” Tim ventures. “It's… what, a cuddle pollen?” Bruce just shrugs. “Something like that.”

No Pain, All Gain by @sohotthateveryonedied (General Audiences, 1k, 2020) Tim’s eyes go even wider. “You stole my organs?” “Technically,” Jason chimes in, “the doctors stole your organs. We just gave them permission.”

Bruce checks Tim’s IV. “Are you in any pain? Do you need more morphine?” Tim’s pupils are so wide that only the faintest ring of blue can be seen. He watches Bruce the way a five-year-old watches cartoons. “I’m all good, B-dog. All Gucci, like we cool teens say." His words are slurred almost beyond recognition, but Tim doesn’t seem to notice or care. "I could fight Superman right now.”

The Wind Sits in the Shoulder of Your Sail by @birdchildsnest (Teen & Up, 7k, 2020) “Oh my god. Bruce. I can’t even tell if you’re serious. When everybody finally eats the rich—they’re going to eat you first.”

At least, back then, Tim had barely been a teenager. He could almost forgive his own volatility. And he’d been smart enough (scared enough?) not to tell Jack that he didn’t need him. What was his excuse now? Bruce was his dad (at least, in the legal sense), but (surprise, surprise) it turned out that Tim wasn’t any better at being a son. Or Tim and Bruce still have some things to sort through after the adoption.

I Left My Conscience On Your Front Doorstep by @dustorange (Teen & Up, 21k, 2022) He doesn’t want to be loved if being loved is like this.

"I think I'm leaving," Dick whispers. "I think I'm not coming back."

bad boys bad boys (whatcha gonna do) ♫ by @drakefeathers (Teen & Up, 20k, 2014) "They live their lives thinking they can charge through the city with the right to hurt and kill and destroy as many lives as they want. And they do it all without a shred of remorse." “But—” Damian begins, brow furrowed in confusion. “Isn’t that like you?”

a Jason and Damian as Batman and Robin AU!! featuring a bunch of graffiti, a rival dynamic duo, and Cat Jason (a cat named Jason).

The Biggest Mistake by @oh-mother-of-darkness (General Audiences, 1k, 2016) “I could ground him anyway, if it would make you feel better.” “He only said it because I called him ‘a garbage can so ineffective it actually became garbage.’”

"You know what really needs to be addressed? Bruce's truly terrible treatment of Damian." -Me, on a daily basis

been a number and a name by @wynterstars (Teen & Up, 35k, 2023) “Turns out if you just say ‘spacetime’ until people’s eyes glaze over they don’t really question anything you say. Also, somehow nobody expects me to be able to actually do enough math to explain it.”

On a field trip, Robin has a close encounter with the newest super in Metropolis, only to discover the hard way that Superboy secretly works for Lex Luthor. They agree to work together on a plan to free Superboy from Luthor’s hold, but Robin isn’t sure how far he can trust him—and his developing feelings only make things more complicated.

clean it like you mean it by @wynterstars (Teen & Up, 70k, 2024) "Wait, ugh, you're not my dead dad, right? If I'm getting a dying vision of my dead dad I want a do-over because he suuuuucked."

When Gotham's crooks have to scrub down their lairs, who do they call? Jason Todd, Gotham's first and only underworld crime scene cleaning specialist. He's spent his life dodging the Bat, but after a chance encounter he saves Robin's life. Tim Drake finds himself drawn to the conflicted rogue, and soon Jason becomes Robin's street informant. But they can only stay on opposite sides of the law for so long before something breaks.

3:16 by @wufflesvetinari (Teen & Up, 70k (WIP), 2023) “Try to decouple one thing from the other. I’m proud of you, but ice cream isn’t my grand statement about whether you’ve been good or bad today. Good things are good. Happiness is precious. Sometimes you just want caramel chocolate chip.”

The knife pushes thin along Dick’s carotid artery, cupping the indent between neck and jawline—forcing him to angle his chin. The metal is warm, pulled with execution speed from under Damian’s pillow. “Okay,” Dick says quietly, tracking the intricacies of his own heartbeat—counting the space between breaths. “Guess I did need a shave.” (With faltering steps, Dick and Damian become Batman and Robin.)

wolf-king of rome by @mysterycitrus (Not Rated, 25k, 2024) “You go after Joker, but you don’t kill him, because it’s not about the Joker dying, it’s about Bruce breaking his code for you. It’s about Bruce loving you enough to change himself for the worse. It’s about your idea of grieving.”

Jason doesn’t fear Dick Grayson. Fear itself has changed shape for him, since his return from the Pit - it tastes of dirt in his mouth, of drowning, of fire and blood and laughter, more than a tangible face. Still, he’d be stupid not to be cautious. Dick liked playing on an uneven field, and would do anything to keep him off balance, so he just had to stay focused. That’s the nature of the armistice, both waiting for the other to make a move. It’s like balancing on the head of a pin.

Declensions by @dustorange (Teen & Up, 13k, 2018) “Do not tell them your name. Do as I did to survive. I lied. I have always lied. Make one up. Do not let them have you. Say your name is…is…is…Richard Grayson. Or something. They are going to steal you; do not give them anything to steal.”

“My father,” Dick says, “worked the rope. It cut him. His hands were never clean.”

Passiontide by @bigdvmnhero (Teen & Up, 5k, 2025) Despite its faults, the day had tried to be good. He felt young, like someone's son.

On the 96th day Bruce didn't call, Dick remembered their old game. Three things he knew: 1) In three months, it would be Dick's death anniversary; 2) Bruce was still missing his check-ins; 3) Here Dick was, persisting. Imagine the things I'd survive, Dick thought distantly, if I loved Bruce less. Or: Agent 37 and his various crises of faith, on Day 277 at Spyral, Day 150, and Day -0.

the time you won your town the race by @silverwhittlingknife (Teen & Up, 4k (WIP), 2022) Tim. Tim is Dick’s. Death sharpens, clarifies these things. Who will receive the body, decide on the funeral, receive condolences, make all the decisions that matter. No one has questioned it, not even Tim’s friends. There’s a terrible clarity about death. If Dick said, let’s burn everything he owned, Alfred would do it.

He doesn’t know exactly what Tim would say. But he knows what Tim would do. Tim dies. Dick doesn’t take death for an answer. A Red Robin 12 AU.

door, opening by @cowboysorceror (Mature, 70k (WIP), 2024) Dick, with the keys to every locked door Jason has ever tried to open, tucked inside the cradle of his skull; all of that, snuffed out like a candle.

It’s barely audible, but he knows what he heard. A short, four-note whistle, chirping down – E, C#, then jumping up to A, F#, a little trill on the finish. He waits a moment, head turned slightly towards the dim shapes of storage containers between him and the ramp, eyes straining against the blackness. Long, stretching seconds. There it is again. His gloved hand, prickling with cold, closes into a fist. It’s a wood thrush. A small North American songbird that doesn’t sing at night, doesn’t live in the city. He knows what it means. It means hold, steady, not yet. It means wait for me, I’m behind you.

[atlabeth]

shades of cool

pairing: javier peña x fem reader

summary: you come to javier in a last ditch effort to save your life after it all falls apart around you.

a/n: me when im addicted to angst... im sorry i cant stop hurting my r characters. anyways im watching narcos w my roomies and we all cannot stop thirsting over pedro so i had to write something. please do not ask for a sequel because i will not be able to control myself and i already have too much stuff on my plate!!! if i do write another part it will take forever so pls understand that i just wanted to write something short for javi and apparently i cant do that without adding backstory lmao

also! r is colombian but writing this whole fic in my shitty high school spanish would actually be a crime so just know they're speaking in spanish the whole time. thank you for your consideration

wc: 3.3k

warning(s): typical narcos stuff. angst, r's brother is dead and she's passively suicidal, javi is an asshole half the time and a sweetheart the other half so some hurt/comfort

Javier Peña was not having a good day. 

He slept like shit. His coffee tasted like shit. He’d run out of his favorite cigarettes. Some idiot bureaucrat broke his coffee mug in the office. And worst of all, it was like he and Steve had hit a wall in their chase. 

Every lead they went out into the field following turned out to be nothing but bullshit, and if they actually managed to get good intel, they showed up to nothing—one of Escobar’s thousand informants always tipped him off one way or another. 

Noonan was on their ass about their methods, and Carillo’s methods were giving Murphy morally cold feet, and Murphy’s wife wouldn’t stop pestering Javier about making sure he kept his partner alive.

Javier wasn’t heartless, and he wasn’t a fucking idiot. Steve might’ve annoyed him, but they were partners. He wasn’t going to leave him out in the dirt, no matter how much he might’ve wanted to. 

But it had been a very long, very disastrous thirteen hour work day, and all Javier wanted to do was sit down, tend to his budding alcoholism, and smoke a few cigs. But of course, in all the chaos of the day, he’d forgotten that he was out, so he had to stand up, put the glass down, and go to the corner store. At least it was a Friday night—he could always sweet talk the cashier that worked Friday nights into giving him a discount. 

He ended up getting more than a discount—she gave him three packs for the price of one, and all it took was a smile and some compliments. At least some parts of the world still worked in his favor. 

Javier was in a better mood on his way back. It wasn’t much considering how shit his day had been, but he tried to ignore it as he opened his new pack. He took out a cigarette and tucked the rest into his pocket. He was about to light it when a voice spoke up from behind him. 

“Are you Javier Peña?”

He had half a mind to pull his gun out on the spot. Usually people asking about him by name on the street wasn’t a good thing, especially in Spanish. 

But he didn’t. He stopped in his tracks and turned, immediately locking eyes with the source. He wasn’t expecting someone like you, standing stiff with crossed arms and hardened eyes. He wasn’t expecting a woman at all—especially one that didn’t look interested in him. He’d been propositioned enough on these streets to know you weren’t a working girl.  

Javier glanced away to light his cigarette and blew out the smoke before he finally looked back at you. 

“Who’s asking?”

You didn’t shift beneath his gaze. “Someone that needs your help.”

He looked you up and down. You weren’t dressed in any particular way, just a linen shirt and too-long cargo pants fringed with dirt. Definitely not a working girl, and you weren’t exactly rolling in it either. 

“I don’t run a charity,” he responded.

“I’m not asking for charity,” you said sharply. “But we can’t talk here.”

Javier raised an eyebrow. 

“You’re DEA,” you said. “You know better than anyone that the walls have ears.”

“You’ve got information?” 

“I’ve got a gold mine,” you said. 

Javier stared at you for a good, long moment, almost hoping he could read your mind if he looked at you for long enough. You didn’t waver, didn’t look away—just met his gaze with those sharp eyes of yours. 

He normally wasn’t this desperate. But right now, they needed any intel they could get—especially if it could get them through back doors. 

Eventually, he cursed under his breath and shook his head. “Fine. Follow me.” 

He turned and started walking, and he could see you following him in the reflection off a storefront’s windows. You caught up to him relatively quickly, and he passed another glance at you. 

“If you’re fucking with me—”

“You think I’m stupid enough to fuck with the DEA?” you interrupted. 

“I never know with girls like you,” he said. 

You scoffed. “What is that supposed to mean?” 

“Girls that track me down on the street and try to become informants,” Javier said. 

He saw your jaw clench in his peripherals. “Well, I’ve got a pretty good reason to hate Escobar.” 

Javier hummed and blew out another cloud of smoke. The nicotine had to ease some of the sharper edges in his mind. Was probably why he felt more agreeable to what many would consider a bad idea. 

The two of you continued the rest of the way in silence, though Javier noticed how you kept your head on a swivel. Eyes constantly darting around, focusing on shadowy areas like something was going to jump out at you, not going a minute without checking behind you. 

Not only did you not have a sense of humor, you were jumpy and paranoid. Just what he wanted in a potential informant. 

He suppressed a sigh. So much for a relaxing night. 

-

You grit your teeth as Peña patted down your body. The warmth of his hands against your bare arms was a shock, especially when you could feel it through your shirt—part of you expected him to be cold to match the rest of his demeanor. “Is this really necessary?” 

“Gotta make sure you’re not bugged,” Peña said. He moved to your sides, then your front and back. Your loose button-up didn’t give the opportunity to hide much, but he didn’t seem like the kind to take chances. 

“Why would I be bugged?” you asked wryly.  

“Because the head of a DEA agent goes for 500 grand,” he responded in equal fashion. His hands didn’t linger on your chest as he finished vetting your torso, at least, which seemed like a low bar to clear. “Besides— beautiful Paisa approaches me on the street, implies she has information on Pablo Escobar, I take her home? Sounds like the start of a bad joke that ends with me getting my head blown off.” 

“Nothing about this is a joke,” you said. 

“Well, I see people get their heads blown off every day,” he said as he crouched down, finishing up his inspection with your legs. “I try to keep the mood light when I can.” 

Peña stood up after he got to the bottom of your left leg, seemingly satisfied, and gestured at his couch with his head. “Sit.” 

“Are you finally done?” you asked mockingly. “Think I’m clean?”

“Don’t give me a reason to think you’re not.” He picked up a near empty glass from a side table and walked into the kitchen.  “Now do us both a favor and sit down and shut up.” 

You decided to meet him halfway as you took a seat on the sofa. “I never knew DEA agents were so mean.” 

“I’m being pretty nice right now, all things considered.” You heard the clinking of glasses and liquid pouring from the kitchen, but you didn’t look up. You just stared at your hands, trying to suppress the rising dread in your chest. 

A part of you didn’t really know what you were doing. Talking to a DEA agent was about the worst thing someone in your position could do. All it took was one bit of gossip in the wrong ear, one of your brother’s old friends to wonder what you were up to, and you were dead. 

But the worst case scenario had already happened. As far as you were concerned, you had nothing left to lose. 

You started at the sudden sound of Peña setting something down on the table. You glanced up to see a bottle of whiskey alongside two glasses—one filled with a finger of liquor, the other empty. 

“You a whiskey girl?” he asked. 

“No,” you said. “But I could use some right now.” 

He chuckled and filled the other glass, then pushed it over to you and set the bottle down. Javier picked up his own glass and took a sip, then leaned back in his chair. He looked every bit the ruminating agent as he stared at you. 

“So,” he said, “what the fuck has you asking me for help?”

“My brother worked for the Medellín Cartel,” you said. 

Peña's eyebrows rose. You guessed he probably didn’t expect you to say that. 

“He get fired?” 

You picked up the glass and downed a third of it, grimacing at the taste. You really weren’t a whiskey girl, but you preferred to focus on the burn of the liquor rather than the memory. You scraped your nail against the glass once it faded. 

“Killed.” 

“About the same thing for Escobar,” he said. He leaned forward. “You work with him too?” 

You shook your head. “I stayed as far away from all of it as I could. But all Marcelo saw was the money.” 

You could practically see him file the name away in his brain for future use. It probably wouldn’t get him far.  

“So your brother works for Escobar, takes a wrong turn, gets killed,” Peña said. “And you come to me because you think they’ll come after you?” 

You shrugged. “Marcelo had his cartel friends over all the time. They know me, know my face—know that my brother told me shit they don’t want repeated.” 

Peña tilted his head. “So you choose to rat them out rather than take his place.” 

You scoffed. “They beat him black and blue before his best friend shot him in the head. They left him in the living room for me to find. I’m lucky I’m here talking to you, agent.” 

“Well, what got dear Marcelo killed?” he asked. 

You gave him a mirthless smile. “He made one mistake and it ended up being the biggest one of his life. They gave him a target to take out. He failed, loudly and obviously in El Poblado. Escobar snipped the loose end.” 

Peña’s eyes widened. “Your brother was behind that botched assassination on Luciana Rodriguez?” 

You nodded. “The only thing worse than killing a journalist is failing to kill a journalist—especially one that’s refused dirty money. The mess was all over the papers the next day, and she was giving interviews the whole week.” A chill fell over your skin as your hand tightened around the glass, and you had to glance away. “Marcelo was dead before he could even try to plead his case.” 

“You truly have my sympathy,” Peña said. His eyes had softened, no longer looking like they were skeptical of every word you said. “Burying a sibling…” He shook his head. “It’s awful.” 

You shrugged. “It’s how it always ends, isn’t it?” 

“For those at the bottom of the ladder,” he said. “Why do you think Escobar gets everyone else to do his dirty work?” 

You tipped your head in recognition as you took another sip of whiskey. Much better than the shitty liquor you were used to—despite the money Marcelo started raking in from his cartel jobs, the two of you never really grew out of the bottom shelf. 

“I never actually got to bury him, though,” you said. “Soon as I found his body, I took what I could and ran. I wasn’t going to wait around for a bullet in my head too.”

“I’m surprised they weren’t there waiting for you,” Peña said. 

You chuckled wryly. “Me too. But I’ve learned to count my blessings when I can get them—they don’t come around too often for people like me.” 

A shaky sigh fell from your lips as you leaned back, taking a moment to compose yourself. You hardly knew Peña, yet you were telling him about some of the worst days of your life. 

“I stayed at some shitty motel for the past few days trying to figure out what to do,” you said. “I remembered hearing your name around some of the circles—a DEA agent who seemed to have endless amounts of informants. I… I mostly got lucky finding you.” 

“It’s very brave of you,” he said. “But why now? Why not in the middle of all this, when you had the most access to information?”

“I’m a selfish woman, Agent Peña.” Your gaze fell down to the amber liquid—it was easier than looking him in the eye. “I didn’t want my brother to get hurt, so I kept my distance and I kept my mouth shut.” You paused, shaking your head with a slight laugh. “No, actually. I told him a thousand times it was better to be poor and honest than rich with dirty money. But all we’ve ever known is poverty—Marcelo wanted more, and Escobar offered him a way out.” 

Peña offered a thin smile. “How do you think he gathered so much popularity so quickly?”

“Believe me, I know.” You huffed as you sunk into the cushions. “I still remember that day he came home after Escobar announced he was running for Congress—400,000 pesos, just handed to him. How could he not fall further in?” 

He raised an eyebrow. “And you’re sure you haven’t?” 

“Some of the money I took from the house is probably dirty but…” you shook your head. “But Marcelo gave them everything he had, and they killed him for it. Nothing could make me work for those motherfuckers.” 

“I do like a woman with principles,” Peña mused.

You huffed another mirthless laugh as you leaned forward, setting your glass on the edge of the table. “Can you help me or not?” 

“You want me to ensure your safety in exchange for the information you have,” he said. 

You nodded. 

“Well, my protection is pretty valuable,” he said. “How valuable is your information?” 

“Marcelo was a floater,” you said. “He did work for whoever under Pablo needed it. I’ve got names from Gacha, the Ochoas, even some of Escobar’s main men. And I know the names of some rats in the police department, even one in your precious DEA.” 

Peña frowned. “Who?”

“Maya Alberts. Gringa secretary from Utah.” 

By the look on his face, you gathered that you were right. “How do you know that?” 

“Just because I didn’t get involved in all that shit doesn’t mean I didn’t listen,” you said. “His friends saw me as lesser than them—idiots talked around me all the time.” 

“You have this in writing or anything?” 

You tapped your temple. “It’s all up here. You give me a pen and paper, I can get them all down.” 

He blew out a loose breath and shook his head. “You’re valuable.”

“I told you.” 

“Well, I didn’t know you were this valuable,” he said. “I have to run all this by Murphy and the rest, but if your names match up, you actually are a gold mine.” 

“And you better do everything you can to take them down,” you said. 

“We have to be careful about all this,” Peña said. “If Gaviria or Gacha or— or god forbid Escobar figures out that you’re running your mouth, you’re going to be their top priority.” 

“I don’t care,” you said honestly. “If my death is the price I have to pay to pave even one brick on the path to nailing Escobar, then I’m okay with that.”

Peña pursed his lips. “My informants aren’t usually so…”

“Suicidal?”

“Uncaring,” he decided. “The best informants are the ones that stay alive long enough to be informants.”

“I’ve lost everything, Agent Peña,” you said. “I want justice against the men that killed my brother. I don’t care what I have to do to get it.” 

Again, he stared at you. You don’t know what he thought it would do for him—if he believed he could tell whether you were lying or not by looking in your eyes, if he was trying to memorize how you looked in case he had to turn you over, if he just liked looking at people. But eventually, he sighed. 

“You’ve bared your soul and we’ve just met,” he said. “I think you can call me Javier.” 

You nodded. “You’d better take these men down then, Javier.” 

He smiled as he stood up. He actually had a pretty nice one. 

“Like I said, I have to go over all of this with my partner—maybe get Carillo involved too.” He looked at you. “It might take some time while we verify it all, but don’t worry. I keep my informants safe.” 

Your mind went back to the mangled body of your brother, sent as a message to Escobar’s people of what would happen if they crossed him. You could only think about how much he suffered in his final moments. 

Bile creeped up your throat, but the memory still burned more. All he wanted was a better life for the two of you. 

“All I care about is taking these bastards down.”

He shook his head. “You might not care about yourself, but I do. You’re staying the night here.” 

You frowned. “I have—” 

“You don’t have somewhere to stay,” Javier interrupted, taking the words out of your mouth. “You’ve got a shitty motel that’s probably already on the cartel’s radar. You go back there, you get a load of lead in your brain.” 

“Still.” You glanced around. “There’s got to be a better place than here.” 

Javier raised his eyebrows. “You don’t like my place?” 

“You know that’s not what I meant,” you bit back. “It— it’s just your place. I don’t want to intrude.” 

He actually laughed at that, a genuine sound you weren’t expecting. “You’ve got the Medellín Cartel on your ass and you’re worried about imposing?” 

“Well—” your frown deepened— “when you put it like that, it sounds ridiculous.” 

“Because it is.” He left you with that as you started to walk towards the hallway. 

You figured you would be crashing on the couch—it was pretty comfortable. Most things in Javier’s apartment were cheap, but this seemed to be one thing he splurged on—him, or the DEA when they outfitted the place. The plush cushions had just enough give to support you, stark contrast to the stiff state your body seemed to always be in these days. 

He came back holding a bundle of sheets, a blanket, and a pillow. He set it down on the chair he’d been sitting in and looked at you. 

“Are you going to get up?” 

“Those are for me, aren’t they?” 

“‘Course not,” he said. “You’re sleeping in my room. I’m taking the couch.” 

You scoffed. “You want to talk about imposing—” 

“It’s for your own good,” Javier interrupted again. He seemed to like interrupting. “If someone tailed you here, or somehow figured out you’ve come to me, then they’re gonna break in through the front door or the window. I’d prefer to be the first line of defense in that case.” 

“You can’t be serious,” you deadpanned. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Javier said bombastically. “You came to the DEA agent for protection, and now the DEA agent is protecting you? How in the world will you survive?” 

You scowled at him, but you stood up anyways. You took the chance to polish off the rest of your glass—you didn’t grimace as hard this time, at least. 

“Bathroom is on the left, kitchen’s right there.” Javier pointed his finger as he talked, which he then aimed at you. “Don’t move anything around. I’ll know.” 

Deciding to bite your tongue, you nodded. Javier Peña was, after all, doing you a ginormous favor. You stopped right before you could reach the hallway and turned back to look at him, already at work stuffing sheets in the cracks of his couch. 

“Thank you,” you murmured. “I— I appreciate all this. More than you know.” 

Javier paused at your words, and when he turned around he had an uncharacteristically soft look on his face. 

“...Course.” He nodded his acknowledgment. “Sleep tight.” 

Your lips twitched in the slightest smile. “You too.” 

As you walked down the hallway, you felt his gaze burning into you. You resisted the urge to look back.

[bentnotbroken1fanfiction]

Sneak Peek of ch 6 of YGTWG

Style’s dad doesn’t look surprised to see him. But that’s not a shock. He’d already seen Kant last night after all. He’s not sure what he told him, but it’s possible he warned him about some of the things that have happened.  

Which could make this whole thing easier….or harder. 

Jay confirms it as soon as the door shuts behind them. “So, I’m going to assume you are here to fill in the blanks that Kant left?” 

“That depends,” Fadel replies, following him to the dining table. “What exactly did he tell you?”

The man gestures for Fadel to take a seat, and when he does he also sits down and begins speaking. “He came here late last night, but didn’t stay for long. He was banged up pretty good, but wouldn’t tell me what happened. He just started talking about how he was blackmailed by a police officer and got Style involved in something shady. He told me that if a Captain by the name of Christ showed up, that I shouldn’t tell him anything about Style…or you. He said I also shouldn’t trust anything he says about you guys, and that if you showed up before Kant had a chance to return with news of Style, that I should listen to what you have to say.”

Fadel is kind of shocked by this news. Kant had warned him about the police officer and hadn’t revealed anything too damning. He had also thought that Fadel would come here and make things right. Which…yeah, Fadel wouldn't have left Style's dad hanging like thst, but for Kant to acknowledge it…well, it means something to Fadel. And he doesn’t like it, but he feels a little bit grateful to the bastard for taking the tome to come here last night,  and for telling Jay to listen to Fadel. It’s going to make this all a bit easier now. 

“Kant was right to warn you and he was also right to think that I would come here.” He begins, “But before I tell you what I came here to say,” he pauses and takes a grounding breath. “I want you to know that I truly and sincerely love your son.”

The man in front of him simply smiles and says. “I know.” 

That throws Fadel for a loop. “You…know?” 

He nods and puts a gentle hand on Fadel’s shoulder. “Son, there are some things you come to learn about life once you’re as old as I am. And one of them is that sometimes, it’s not about the words you say. It’s about your actions and the way you look at someone. And I’ve seen the way you look at my son.”  Fadel’s chest grows tighter with his words. “I can tell that you love him. Maybe even more than he loves you.”

“If he was smarter, he wouldn’t love me at all.” He replies quietly and stands up from the chair, preparing himself for what comes next. 

And now it’s Jay’s turn to look apprehensive. “Why-”

Before he can get the question out, Fadel drops to his knees and wai’s deeply to him. 

“What are you-”

“The reason I’m here right now, and the reason Kant was here, is because Style was taken by a dangerous organization yesterday morning and was seriously injured.” He can tell that he’s about to ask more questions so he barrels on. “And while I wasn’t the one that harmed him, what transpired happened because of his affiliation with me. I don’t expect you to forgive me for this transgression, but I had to come here to explain with my own mouth what happened.” 

His voice sounds panicked when he asks, “What do you mean injured? How bad is it?” 

“The important thing is that he is okay now. His life isn’t in danger. But I’m not going to lie to you.” He finally looks up at Style’s father, because he feels that he needs to look the man in the eye when he tells him this. He deserves that much. “It was really bad. He was beaten and stabbed. They had him for over four hours before I was able to get help to find him and intervene. I got there in time to stop the man that took him and Kant was able to stabilize him enough that we could get him to a doctor in time, but he had to have emergency surgery. Some of his injuries are extensive.”

Jay’s eyes look almost hollowed out and his face is quickly changing from confused worry to anger. “You said he was taken? As in kidnapped? By who? Why would they take Style?”

“He didn’t do anything wrong. They took him because of me. It’s my fault.” He can’t bear to see the disappointment on the man's face so he stares back at the floor. “I used to work for a company that has ties with the underground Mafia. I was raised by the owner after my parents were murdered and I was made to do…. unsavory things…but I’d been trying to get away for the last few years. I opened the restaurant and my brother and I were making plans for our escape…for our future. This was our chance to get out, and when I met Style I thought…well…I was naive to think that she was going to let us go without a fight. Style was collateral damage that I didn’t see coming. But I should have. And I will forever regret not realizing the danger he was in.” 

“You said you stopped the person who hurt him?” 

“Yes.” 

“Did you make him pay?” Fadel’s eyes snap back to Style’s fathers. He looks serious. He wants to know. And Fadel finds that he wants to tell him. “Yes.”

[alijuan]

I resent the glorification of BG3 over Veilguard not only because Larian copied BioWare (and not very well imo) but also because that game was a disappointment to me. I expected a sequel to BG2 but got DOS3 at best, if not a copy of DOS2. Although Durge as the culmination of the series hits the spot for me, it’s one of the few things that got me stuck with BG3 for so long.

Not like Veilguard, because DA was special to me, but still disappointing. Especially problems with lore and sometimes its superficial presentation, with a few good exceptions. And Tav as an alternative main character who doesn't fit into the series or even the plot of BG3 (typical Larian). Sorry for all Tavs, mine too, but their plot is boring and sometimes alogical; they’re not much different from Rook to me outside of roleplaying.

Larian tried to copy Bioware but it turned out to be more a parody to me. BG3 is still a typical Larian game. Hollow world that can’t be compared to DAO, the oddities and changes in lore for the sake of narrative, not a very interesting group dynamic (inspiration from BioWare is so obvious here but so superficial; it’s progress for Larian because relationships between companions weren't in their games before but overall it's average).

I think they were trying to evoke a sense of nostalgia. Astarion is a good example of this. They changed tiefling to white-haired elf who reminds Zevran, Fenris and Dorian at the same time. At least they changed that he wanted vampirism and paid for it, otherwise it would not only be weird for a young high elf to be so greedy for vampiric immortality but he'd just be Fenris 2.0.

Even compared to other similar games, BG3 is not brilliant. I usually use Pathfinder WOTR as a modern example because it has similarities with BG3 but better in many aspects, including choices, respect to lore, mc’s connection to the plot (if we speak about Tav) and many more, with much smaller budget. In my opinion, Owlcat is a better successor of classic CRPGs. Not to mention that Owlcat doesn't rewrite character stories or change scenes after release for the sake of fanservice. They stand up for their ideas when it comes to adding or changing something in their game for fans (Larian would never).

I disagree that Larian released a finished game. The third act looks rushed and unfinished, the epilogue came six months later, the evil endings only a year later. It wasn’t a final product on release because they're still changing cutscenes and dialogues like it's early access. But finally someone said that Larian didn't do something revolutionary. This is how RPGs work, and a lot of the standards came from BioWare.

I am just a little bit annoyed how everyone is comparing Bioware to Larian....

Not because I think we should be too lenient towards Bioware. God and everyone who follows me on this site knows how massively disappointed I am with Veilguard and that I am not expecting them to deliver on the next Mass Effect.

And Larian has done an outstanding job with BG3.

However: the praise Larian has gained also served to show how low expectations in the gaming industry were. I read and hear time and time again how Larian supposedly has set a new standard in gaming but they actually didn't?

What have they done? They released a finished well written and well rounded RPG. An RPG with diverging story branches and player choices with consequences.

Do you notice something? THIS IS NOT REVOLUTIONARY, PEOPLE!

A revolution by defintion entails a course of action that is entirely new and a complete break from what was done before. Larian did not do that. They simply fulfilled the PRE-EXISTING criteria for an RPG. Nothing more, nothing less.

Yet, since standards have appearantly fallen so low in the respective genre, everyone acts like adhering to the working definition of an RPG and selling a complete product is somehow revolutionary. Literally nothing about that is new. It should be standard.

And it breaks my heart everytime someone compares Bioware to Larian in this regard.

No, before you come at me, not because I want to defend and protect them. They 10000% deserve all the backlash (minus the death threats) they are recieving. But because Baldur's Gate was originally a Bioware IP to begin with.

Larian did not do anything revolutionary. They built on what Bioware has already established. And you feel the old Bioware DNA even in BG3.

You feel it in the characters, their stories and personalities, the dialogue. They brought back old characters like Minsc and Jaheira. My heart breaks a little more everytime I feel these pieces of OG Bioware. Like echoes of an era long gone, only to realize it is not Bioware.

I feel its spiritual proximity to DAO. Sometimes the combat music even reminds me of DAO combat music. I briefly think I am playing my Warden before I snap out of it and see my sorceress Tav between Astarion and Karlach. And my heart breaks.

Boo, Minsc's hamster, was originally referenced by Shepard having a hamster when the player decided to purchase one. Shepard's hamster made the same noises as Boo in BG2 and Shepard even used Minsc's signature line in regards to him "Go for the eyes." in the Citadel DLC.

Now Minsc says Boo is a miniature giant SPACE hamster and I tear up because I instantly think of Shepard and my heart breaks. Breaks but also warms because Larian thought it was important to still honor the original inventor of Baldur's Gate with a Shepard reference in return.

To sum it up: it is so frustrating to see people comparing Bioware to a developer studio that was conforming to standards implemented by Bioware to begin with.

[jerry-the-leech]

silly little Athena doodles hehehe

so I was bored and started doodling Athena I didn’t expect it to be good but I like it a lot more than I thought I would. There was a post I saw but I can’t find it :( that said that Athena has winions so I added those in. Kind of forgot what winions look like but whatever we’ll be fine (pun intended).