#God it's exhausting how are you not tired

[reiding-writing]

Heyy!! i was wondering if you could perchance do a drabble with dad!spencer and mom!bau!reader where they've gotten into the rhythm of calling each other mommy and daddy in front of the kids and one of them accidentally slips up and does it work without realising. And then the team is like "hold on 🤨" (probably morgan) and they have to defend themselves. Just something i've been thinking about and i don't have the artistic ability to right it myself but you do! Thank youuuu! xxx

SLIP UP. /spencer reid/

your at-home naming habits find their way into the office.

bau!mom!reader 1.1k fluff masterlist.

a/n | this is so funny i love it.

The bullpen hums with its usual energy—phones ringing, keyboards clacking, conversations weaving through the space.

It’s late, and exhaustion weighs on everyone like a heavy fog. Cases have been stacking up, the paperwork never-ending, and you’re all running on caffeine and whatever sugar-laden snack Garcia has left in the breakroom.

You and Spencer, despite being used to sleepless nights—courtesy of two small children at home—are still feeling the burn.

Parenting while profiling is a delicate balance, and some days, it feels like you barely hold it together. But you've found ways to cope, to slip into a rhythm that works.

Spencer leans over his desk, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose as he scans a report. His hair is slightly disheveled—likely from running his hands through it—and his tie is loosened, his sleeves rolled up. He looks exactly how you feel, drained.

You, seated across from him, are going through another file when you sigh and reach for the next document. “Pass Mommy the file, please,”

The moment the words leave your mouth, the bullpen stills. For a brief second, no one reacts. Not even Spencer, who doesn’t hesitate to slide the file over to you, his tired brain not even registering what just happened.

But then—

“Hold on, what?”

Your head snaps up so fast you nearly give yourself whiplash. Across the table, Morgan is staring at you with wide eyes, a slow, knowing smirk spreading across his face. JJ’s eyebrows are raised nearly to her hairline, and even Rossi has paused his paperwork, looking mildly amused.

Hotch looks like he’s trying very hard not to react.

You glance at Spencer, who is blinking rapidly, his brain trying to catch up with what just happened.

And then, it hits you.

“Oh my God.” Your stomach drops. Heat rushes to your face. “I didn’t mean—”

Morgan leans forward, elbows on the table, his smirk growing. “Did you just refer to yourself as Mommy?”

Spencer makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat. “It’s— It’s not—”

“Because I swear I just heard that,” Morgan continues, clearly enjoying himself.

JJ covers her mouth, eyes twinkling with suppressed laughter.

You groan, dropping your face into your hands. “It’s not what you think,”

“Oh, I think it’s exactly what I think.” Morgan chuckles, leaning back in his chair. “Reid, you calling her Mommy at home?”

Spencer makes another choked noise, shaking his head furiously. “No! I mean— yes, but not like that!”

JJ snorts, and even Hotch finally cracks, pinching the bridge of his nose like he’s debating whether or not to intervene.

You lift your head, groaning again. “We have two kids under four. There’s a lot of third-person referencing, okay?”

Morgan raises an eyebrow, amused.

Spencer, still red-faced, starts rambling. “It’s a psychological phenomenon, actually. When individuals—particularly parents—are frequently addressed in a particular way, their brains develop an associative response, reinforcing the use of the terms even in situations outside the expected context. It’s entirely innocent. Just an unconscious linguistic habit.”

Morgan whistles low. “Damn, Pretty Boy. You really just tried to profile your way out of calling your wife ‘Mommy’ in front of us,”

Spencer groans, burying his face in his hands.

Your face feels impossibly warm. “We’re tired, Morgan. We haven’t had a full night’s sleep in—” You glance at Spencer. “How long has it been?”

“Three years, three months, and sixteen days,” he answers automatically.

Morgan lets out a low whistle. “Damn,”

Emily places a hand over her heart. “That’s actually kind of adorable,”

Garcia practically vibrates with excitement. “This is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I need to hear more,”

“There’s nothing more to hear,” Spencer says, shaking his head quickly. “It’s just a habit. Strictly innocent,”

“Oh, we believe you,” Rossi says, the corners of his mouth twitching. “That doesn’t mean we’re going to let it go,”

“Not a chance,” Morgan agrees.

You groan, dropping your head into your hands. “This is never going away, is it?”

“Nope,” JJ says cheerfully.

Spencer sighs, rubbing his temples. “Great.”

And just like that, the teasing begins.

For the rest of the day—and likely for weeks to come—you hear variations of:

“Daddy, can you pass me that report?” from Emily.

“I don’t know, Mommy, what do you think?” from Morgan.

Garcia, of course, takes it the farthest, occasionally referring to you both as “Mommy and Daddy dearest,” complete with exaggerated winks.

By the time you make it home that evening, you collapse onto the couch with a groan, Spencer falling beside you.

“I’m never going to live this down,” you mumble.

“At least they think it’s funny,” Spencer says, leaning his head back against the cushions.

You sigh. “This is your fault,”

He turns his head to look at you, eyebrows raised. “My fault?”

“You didn’t even hesitate when I said it. You just handed me the file like it was totally normal,”

His lips twitch. “To be fair, it is normal,”

You nudge him with your foot. “Not at work, it isn’t,”

He chuckles, then tilts his head, considering. “Maybe if we just… pretend it never happened, they’ll drop it,”

You snort. “You really think that’s going to work?”

“…No,”

“Exactly.” You groan again, rubbing your hands over your face. “I’m never going to hear the end of this,”

Spencer smiles softly, reaching over to squeeze your hand. “At least we’re in it together, Mommy,”

You open your eyes just to glare at him. “You better not start doing that on purpose,”

He presses his lips together, trying to suppress a grin.

“Spencer,” you warn.

His grin widens. “Yes, Mommy?”

You grab a throw pillow and smack him with it, and his laughter fills the room, warm and familiar.

Exhausted as you both are, you wouldn’t trade this—your life, your family, the teasing from your team—for anything in the world.

[loveesiren]

𝖢𝗋𝗈𝗌𝗌 𝖬𝗒 𝖧𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍 (𝖯𝗍.2)

Choi Seunghyun x f!reader x Kwon Jiyong | Masterlist

a/n: Here's part two! I feel like this part is slightly boring but I needed to write it to continue lol. I've also just been off the past few days and I'm trying to get back into the right mood so I'm sorry if this sucks. I'll try to have part 3 out ASAP!

synopsis: Y/n struggles escape her guilty conscience of the secret her and Jiyong carry. Meanwhile, Seunghyun is oblivious and head over heels for Y/n.

warnings: Language, angst, mention of sex, some fluff at the end

wc: 2.2k+

The shrill blare of your alarm yanked you from the depths of sleep, your body aching, your mind groggy with exhaustion. Your hand instinctively shot out, fumbling blindly until you slammed the snooze button, plunging the room back into an uneasy silence. A tired groan slipped from your lips as you shifted under the sheets, ready to drift back into oblivion—until you felt it.

A warmth beside you.

Your stomach twisted violently as you rolled over, your pulse spiking when your eyes landed on the figure sprawled out next to you. Jiyong.

His bare torso was partially covered by the sheets, the same sheets that reeked of sweat, sex, and the mistakes of last night. His face was relaxed in sleep, lips slightly parted, dark lashes fanned against his cheeks. Without the cocky smirk, without the biting words, he almost looked…peaceful. Almost.

But the moment you registered the ache between your legs, the bruises forming on your hips, the ghost of his hands still lingering on your skin, shame crashed over you like a tidal wave.

Last night came rushing back in a flood of memories—Seunghyun’s gentle smile, the way he looked at you with admiration and patience. The way you had laughed, talked, felt like a real person again, not just some dirty little secret. And then Jiyong. His scent. His touch. His words whispered against your lips as he dragged you back into the cycle of ruin.

You squeezed your eyes shut. God, you hated yourself.

With a sharp inhale, you grabbed your phone, your fingers moving on autopilot as you typed out a text to your boss.

Can’t come in today. Migraine.

It was a weak excuse, but you prayed he wouldn’t question it. You never took a day off. Maybe he’d let this one slide.

Your phone buzzed almost immediately.

Fine, but I need the final drafts by midnight tomorrow.

Relief washed over you, but it was short-lived. You set the phone down and turned to face the bigger issue at hand.

“Jiyong, get up,” you snapped, your voice ice-cold as you slammed your foot into his calf.

He groaned in protest, rolling onto his side with a sleepy scowl. “What the fuck, Y/n?”

“Get out.” Your voice was sharp, cutting through the morning stillness like a blade.

Jiyong blinked at you, disoriented but quickly catching on. His smirk returned, lazy and infuriating. “Is that really how you treat the guy who made you cum three times last night?” His voice was drenched in amusement, in satisfaction. In ownership.

Your stomach churned, your skin burning with humiliation. You turned away, grabbing your clothes off the floor, yanking them on in a frenzy. Jiyong propped himself up on one elbow, watching you with that infuriating smirk still lingering on his lips.

“You look tense.” he teased, stretching his arms above his head, his toned stomach flexing. “You wanna fuck it out?”

You clenched your jaw. “I’m not coming in today. And this—this is over. So get up and get out of my house.”

Jiyong tilted his head, his long, fading orange hair falling into his eyes. The same hair you were responsible for touching up, though the thought of being that close to him again made bile rise in your throat.

“Why aren’t you coming in?” His tone was nonchalant, but there was something else lurking beneath it.

“I need a fucking day off—from you. From everything.” Your voice cracked, and you hated yourself for it. “I had a nice time with Seunghyun last night. And then you just—you just showed up and ruined it.”

He scoffed. “Ruined it? You were begging me to fuck you, Y/n.”

You flinched. He always knew exactly where to strike.

“That was the last fucking time, Jiyong. I’m serious.”

He was quiet for a beat. Then, his gaze flickered to the bedside table, to the black dahlia wilting from neglect. His smirk curled slightly.

“I helped him pick that out, you know.” He gestured lazily toward the flower. “Told him you liked dahlias. He doesn’t know shit about you, Y/n. Not like I do.”

Your breath hitched. “Still don’t know why you did that,” you murmured, your voice laced with suspicion. “Maybe just stay out of our business.”

His eyes darkened. “He’s my best friend. He comes to me for advice.” A cruel chuckle escaped his lips. “I mean, next time I could just tell him how to fuck you right—since I know all about that.”

Your blood ran cold.

“Don’t you dare tell him,” you seethed.

Jiyong raised an eyebrow. “Why shouldn’t I?”

Your chest heaved. “Why do you even care, Jiyong?! You hate me. I hate you. This was all just meaningless fucking sex!”

The words hung in the air, thick and suffocating.

Jiyong’s jaw tightened. His nostrils flared, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. For the first time, he had nothing to say.

“I like Seunghyun. I really do,” you continued, your voice shaking. “And I’d like to see him again. But I can’t do that if you’re still lurking around, so just—just fuck off! Find someone else to fuck!”

Something flashed in his eyes, something raw, something dangerous—but then it was gone.

“Fine,” he spat, his smirk returning, but this time it didn’t reach his eyes. “I’ve got plenty of girls. I don’t need you.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “Never needed you.” You mumbled, though you weren’t sure if you were trying to convince him or yourself. 

Jiyong let out a bitter laugh, but it was hollow. Without another word, he grabbed his clothes, yanked them on, and stormed toward the door. The slam of it rattled the walls.

The moment he was gone, your legs gave out. You sank to the floor, your hands clutching at your hair, your breath coming in ragged, uneven gasps. The weight of it all came crashing down, pressing against your chest like a thousand bricks.

It was over.

And yet—you knew it wasn’t. Not completely.

You crawled toward the bathroom, your limbs feeling like lead. The moment you stepped into the shower, you let the scorching water cascade over your skin, washing away the remnants of last night. You sat against the tile, knees pulled to your chest, silent sobs wracking your body.

You had never felt so disgusted with yourself.

Two hours passed before you finally emerged, your body scrubbed raw, but the filth of Jiyong still clung to you like a second skin. You numbly went through your routine, pulling on sweats and a tank top, throwing your sheets into the wash.

Your phone sat untouched on the counter. You braced yourself before picking it up, expecting an onslaught of messages—Jiyong’s wrath, Seunghyun’s confusion, your boss demanding answers.

Instead, there was just one.

Seunghyun: Hey, I heard you weren’t feeling good. Hopefully it’s not from the restaurant. I hope you feel better soon! It’s boring without you here.

Your chest ached. He didn’t know. Not yet.

No, it’s not from the restaurant. Just a headache. I had a great time last night!

You lied.

Not about having a great time with Seunghyun—you had. Those few hours with him had felt like stepping into a life you wanted so desperately to claim as your own. A life that was simple, warm, untouched by the filth of your past mistakes. But the reason you weren’t at work? That was a lie.

You weren’t sick.

You were avoiding the inevitable.

Jiyong knew how to be cruel when he wanted to be. And if he decided to open his mouth, your world would come crumbling down. Your stomach twisted at the thought of it. Everyone would know. Your boss, your coworkers, Seunghyun.

Seunghyun.

You didn’t even want to think about how he would react. The betrayal in his eyes, the disappointment. Would he hate you? Would he turn his back on you? On his best friend?

You pushed the thought away, forcing yourself into work. You needed a distraction, something to pull you away from the anxiety chewing at your insides. Music blared from the speakers, filling the silence as you lost yourself in sketching, your pencil moving in sharp, deliberate strokes.

You had finished Daesung’s outfit first, moving onto Taeyang’s and Seungri’s with ease. Designing for them was simple, almost soothing. You knew their style, their personalities, the energy they brought to the stage. It was second nature to you.

But then came the last two pages of your sketchbook.

Seunghyun and Jiyong.

Your fingers lingered on Seunghyun’s page, your pencil tracing meaningless details—adding unnecessary stitching to his jacket, shading in areas that didn’t need shading, elongating the shape of the silhouette. You knew you were procrastinating, but you couldn’t bring yourself to flip the page just yet.

You liked being on this page. Here, there was no shame, no regret, no mistakes. Just clean lines and the promise of something new.

But eventually, you had to move forward.

The moment you flipped to Jiyong’s page, your stomach clenched.

You stared at the half finished sketch you’d started, your fingers tightening around your pencil. Designing for him was always easy. You knew his style better than anyone, could predict his fashion choices before he even made them. But now, looking at this page, it felt impossible.

How could you design something for a man you wanted so desperately to erase from your memory?

You exhaled sharply, forcing yourself to sketch. You kept it simple, precise—dark, sleek lines, something effortlessly cool and arrogant, just like him. Just like the man his fans adored. Not the man who whispered filthy things into your ear, not the man who knew exactly how to ruin you, over and over again.

But even as you sketched, his voice echoed in your head.

"He doesn’t know shit about you, Y/n. Not like I do."

Your grip on the pencil tightened. God, you hated him.

And yet, the memory of last night still clung to your skin. The bruises on your hips, the soreness between your legs. You hated how good he made you feel, how easy it was to fall into bed with him, how no matter how hard you tried to move on, he always found a way to pull you back in.

You shook your head, biting down on your lip hard enough to taste copper.

You just had to finish this.

Just as you were adding the final touches, the doorbell rang.

You jolted upright, blinking down at your sketchbook as if just realizing where you were. Pushing it aside, you stood, rubbing the stiffness from your neck before making your way to the door.

You weren’t expecting company.

When you swung the door open, the sight before you made your breath hitch.

Seunghyun.

He stood there, a bag of takeout in one hand and yet another flower in the other. This time, a purple tulip, its petals delicate between his fingers.

“Seunghyun!” you breathed, your voice laced with surprise. “What are you doing here?”

He smiled shyly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I felt bad you weren’t feeling well today, so I thought maybe some ramen would help?” He lifted the bag slightly before extending the flower. “And, uh… I picked this from someone’s garden on the way here.”

A laugh bubbled out of you before you could stop it.

"You stole a flower for me?"

He chuckled, his ears turning pink. "Borrowed. I’ll return it if they notice."

Your fingers curled around the stem, bringing the tulip to your nose as you giggled, the gesture so undeniably him. "This is really sweet, Seunghyun."

“If you’d like some company, I’m free.” He paused, suddenly unsure. “But if you’re not up for it, I totally understand.”

You didn’t hesitate. “No, I am!”

His face brightened at your enthusiasm. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you smiled. “Come in.” You needed the distraction.

Seunghyun followed you inside, his presence filling your small apartment with warmth. As he placed the food on the counter, you searched for a vase, already feeling guilty about the black dahlia wilting in your bedroom.

Then, he spoke again.

“Oh, and this was outside your door.”

You turned just as he pulled a white envelope from his pocket, holding it out to you.

“I promise I didn’t look at it,” he added quickly. “I just picked it up so you wouldn’t miss it. Could be something important.”

Your fingers hesitated before taking it from him. It was blank. No address, no name.

Your stomach twisted.

“Uh, Seunghyun… do me a favor?” You tried to keep your voice steady. “Take all this to the living room? Pick us a movie to watch.”

“Sure!” He grinned, easily distracted. “What kind of movie do you want to watch?”

“Something scary!” you called back, waiting until he was out of sight before your fingers pried open the envelope.

Inside, there was something small, cold.

A key.

Your breath caught in your throat.

Not just any key. Your key.

Your heart pounded as you pulled out the folded note tucked inside.

You didn’t need to open it to know who it was from. The handwriting was unmistakable, messy and familiar, like it had been scribbled in a rush.

With trembling fingers, you unfolded it, your eyes scanning the words.

I won’t tell him.

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[ninikrumbs]

This love

pairing: spencer reid x reader. pure fluff. spencer reid is a yearner of the highest order. established relationship. First spencer reid fic, hope I got it right. Summary: After a long and exhausting case, Spencer's feet leads him right to your doorstep. word count: 900 words.

Spencer stared up at your apartment building, specifically at your dark apartment window. Considering how late it was, the streets were silent and the air was crisp. He felt like a stalker, but after such a long and exhausting case, his feet somehow led him straight here. To you.

But it was midnight, you were probably asleep, tired from your own day job so he didn’t wanna disturb you no matter how much he just wanted to melt into your embrace and hear you say his name in that tender way only you knew how.

For now, this was enough. It was enough to have you close by even if you were three floors away. Just the thought of your slumbering form under the warm covers comforted him, chasing away the monsters that often plagued his mind after a case. You had that power over him. Your touch was magic, and your arms a solace. He didn’t believe in any religion, but if there was a God out there, he’d thank him endlessly for sending you his way.

Morgan would most likely tease him for being so pathetic, but he didn't care. In fact he prided himself in how gone he was for you, because how lucky a man could he be to experience this soul consuming type of love.

His gaze never strayed from your window, you blinds swaying slightly from the breeze. Maybe another hour or two, then he’d leave. He’ll definitely see you tomorrow.

“Spence?”

His head snapped to the sound of your voice so quickly, he wouldn’t have been surprised if he heard a crack. There you were under the streetlights,a plastic bag in hand, in your sleep shorts and your-or should he say his oversize hoodie. Your hair was a bit of a mess and there wasn’t trace of makeup on you face. Yet, you were absolutely beautiful and it took it his breath away every time.

It only took him two long strides to get you, strong arms immediately pulling you into his chest. The sigh of relief he let out was palpable, his worries melting away as he breath you in, leaning down to tuck his face into your neck. You drop your plastic bag, and try to hug him back as best as you could in his tight embrace.

Once he was temporarily sated, -because lets be honest, he will never be able to have his fill of you— it could have been minutes or hours, he didn’t know. He pulled back just enough to see your face, one hand caressing your cheek, the other holding you by your waist. “What are you doing outside?”

His tone wasn’t accusatory or demanding, it was soft and gentle, and genuinely curious and worried as to why your walking the streets alone in the middle of the night.

You smile softly, leaning into his touch, amusement dancing in your eyes. “I should be asking you that, Spence.”

“I-” He could feel the blood rush to his ears and cheeks, “-I wanted to see you.”

Smiling cheekily, you gave his forehead a light tap with your pointer finger, “Why didn’t you call me then?”

“I thought you were asleep so I didn’t wanna disturb you.”

You tilt your head, “Yet you came anyway?”

He smiled bashfully, a bit embarrassed that you found out about his stalkish tendencies. “I wanted to be close to you regardless.”

You stared at him in disbelief, “Oh, Spence.”

Standing on you tiptoes, you wrapped you arms around his neck, pulling him close once more. His hands found your waist as he leaned his chin on your shoulder with his eyes fluttering shut.

“Long case?” You whisper softly against his neck. He hums in response.

You ran a hand through his curly locks. “I'm here.”

Those two words made him hold on to you tighter. You were here. And it made a world of difference,

After a moment, you pulled away and grasped his hand, “Lets go inside.”

“Okay.” His eyes land on your plastic bag, finally noticing it. His refined senses don’t seem to work as fast around you. “Did you go to the convenience store?”

You grinned, “Yeah, I couldn’t sleep so I decided to buy some unhealthy convenience store food.”

He felt bad for thinking this, but he could help but be a little happy that you couldn’t sleep.

Once inside your apartment, your eyes traced over Spencer’s relaxed state as he pulled out the contents of your food haul on the kitchen counter, a big comparison to the tension in his body when you saw him standing in front of your building.

“Hey, Spence?”

“Yeah?”His big hazel eyes met yours and your almost forgot what to say.

Making your way to his side, you leaned your head on his shoulder as you intertwined both of your fingers together. His hand almost swallowing yours whole. The sight making you smile. “Next time you wanna see me, just call me, okay?”

“You don’t have to do that.”

You raised your head and looked at him seriously, “You’re right, I don’t, but I want to do this, Spence. Because you have to know, I want to see you just as much as you want to see me. I doesn’t matter what time it is, text me, call me, or throw a rock at my window. Anything works.”

He laughed at the last one, “Throw a rock? Won’t we wake your neighbors?”

“I don’t really care.” Its true, you don’t care because if this man needs you, you will damn be there.

His smile widened into a grin as he leans into you, pressing his forehead onto yours, hands trailing up to caress your warm cheeks. “I hope you know I don’t deserve you.”

You clasped your hands over his, lifting your chin enough to press a chaste kiss on his lightly chapped lips. “For the first time in your life you’re wrong, Dr. Reid. Your the only one who does.”

AN: Obsessed with criminal minds lately, especially our boy genius.

[vcill]

Ｄｅｓｉｒｅ

Ｃａｌｅｂ: Ｈｅ＇ｓ��ｍｉｓｓｅｄ　ｙｏｕ　ｓｏ　ｍｕｃｈ.

【Ｃａｎ　ｂｅ　ｓｅｅｎ　ａｓ　ｃｏｎ／ｎｏｎ－ｃｏｎ）】

He yearned for you for so long. Your voice, your smell, your touch, the feeling of your skin on his. The way you look- just everything about you had him going mad.

It's been a while since he's last seen you. You're different. You've grown, he sees that you've changed your style a bit too. But he wonders what else has changed? Are you still ticklish behind your ear? Do you still shiver when he traces a finger behind your neck?

All these questions are... well, questionable. But as your friend, he has the right to wonder, doesn't he?

He does. He concludes. As he looks at your sleeping form, exhausted from a day out. Your chest, your very soft, supple looking chest, raises slowly and falls with each breath. The moon light highlights your features just right. This is what he missed. Being able to see you like this: you're beautiful, you're HIS.

He traces your thigh slowly, shivering at the touch. Soft as always. He pulls his hand away and starts leaving kisses all the way down to your ankle. Yes, HIS. His friend. His BEST friend. His lover. His s o u l m a t e. It's only right he worships you the way you deserve.

He spreads your legs open, looking at the sight. White panties. Innocence. He stares for a moment before pressing his face against your clothed pussy. He hums, it brings him a sick and twisted comfort.

It's almost silly. He kisses her, traces his finger around her, he even praises her, as if she were you. He could stay here forever.

Gentley, slowly, he pulls your panties off, slightly shaking once he sees her completely naked. Oh, how he's missed this. How he needed this. Needed YOU.

He doesn't hesitate. Why would he? He takes a long slow lick against your cunt, savoring the taste. Again. One more time. Fuck it, he can't hold back anymore.

He wanted to so badly savor you, but he couldn't. He's head first, mouth wide open, absolutely sloppy. He's a starved, broken, and bruised man, and you just so happen to be the cure. Is he being too loud? Definitely. But it's not like you'll complain, you can't. Not when you're so knocked out from such a fun day. He knew you were lying about not being tired. Of course you were. And not because of that soda he gave you.

He's a terrible person, a terrible friend, but he has to do this, he has too. It's his light in a room of darkness, his saving grace. He apologizes while sucking on your clit. He moves two of his fingers inside of you, moaning at the feeling of your warmth. He's sick.

You're twitching. Are you awake? No? Oh. You're close. So close. Now he's twitching, too. He's gonna taste your cum, feel you get off on his tongue. Now he's frantic, he's practically making out with your pussy now. Singing praises to her, thanking her. Thaking you. He's such a mess, saliva, and your juices everywhere. You would probably tease him for it. It's only fair since he's always called you 'pipsqueak'.

Finally, oh God finally, you cum. He moans loudly as if he were the one in your position. So good, soo good you tasted. He's so sad once you've finished, he wants more he needs more.

He stands up, his face wet, his eyes are yearning. He's pathetic, a creep, a terrible person and friend, yet he has no regrets at all. Why should he when he's just showing you gratitude as your friend?

His cock is yearning to get a taste, to be freed. He unzips his jeans and drops his boxers. What would you say at the sight of it? Would you praise him, or would you degrade him on how pathetic he looks?

He pulls you closer by your hips, your face is flushed, yet he hears your small snores. He should stop, but he won't. He presses his tip against your hole, shivering at the sensation.

Be slowly pushes in, his mouth hangs open as he feels his cock get submerged in your cunt. He loves it, he loves you, he loves you so much, you're so perfect, so good to him so-

He shakes and twitches as he cums inside of you. He's so pathetic. it's good you're asleep, or you would've been so disappointed. He's not even fully in, yet he couldn't hold it anymore. This is what you do to him.

He should pull out and clean you up, right? Wrong. He's sensitive, his dick still limp from his fresh orgasam, yet he doesn't stop. He can't stop. He won't stop. Has it always been so hot in this room? Oh, the noises that come from his mouth are filthy. He never knew he could make that pitch, but he always learns something new with you.

'I love you,' he chants. He thrusts harder as sticky wet plaps fill the room. He's gonna cum again, it hasn't even been a minute has it? You have this man ruined. Imagine how he would be if you were awake?

He cums deep inside of you again. He chants your name as if you were a goddess, and he was your devout follower. No, not if you are his goddess, and he'll serve you till the end of time.

He looks at you, at your pussy, your body, your face. His pipsqueak, his best friend. His lover. His goddess. He's helplessly devoted to you, and of course you are to him, even if you don't show it.

A/N: Me disappearing for over a year just to come back to almost 500 followers. If you're still here, HI! I'm back :>. Hope yall enjoyed this, and feel free to request!

[itsrensfairygardenn]

dilf!art x tired!reader for everyone who needs it </3

2,2k words

you’ve been seeing each other for a while now, and your friends say that it’s stupid that the two of you still haven’t moved in together — after all, it’s not weird at all. he seems to like you so much, and you like him too, love him even, because he is the best thing you could ever have, you know that for sure. you live in the most inconvenient part of the town, renting a tiny flat, which is not even that close to your university, and even further away from art’s place — he lives out of town, completely alone in his enormous house, except for days when lily stays with him. he never presses you into staying with him, moving your stuff to his place, or even lingering there for longer than you’re comfortable with, but his eyes always speak for himself — he wants you to stay there with him. he wants his home to become yours too.

life for you is routine, because you’ve built it this way; and while it obeys your rules, working like a finely-tuned machine, you can handle it just fine — i mean, there was nothing impossible, right? the schedule is tough, but you’ve already got used to it, still managing to submit your assignments just in time and getting excellent results, even though your part-time job is taking much more of your time and energy than you thought it would — but it feels nice to be appreciated by your professors, to stay one of the best students, even though it feels like you’re on the verge of losing it because of your job. you don’t have much time for living your quiet and slow life anymore, and it was difficult for you, to the point of a permanent exhaustion, of aching pain all over your body even after a proper rest. but life is never easy, is that what people always say to you? you should adjust to this rhythm, because you think that that’s how adult life works.

and you can handle it just fine, till the moment when this algorithm just stops working.

this day, everything went completely wrong since the very beginning — you overslept, simply because you’d forgotten to set your alarm the night before, and the whole process of getting ready and running to the campus brought you immense anxiety; by the time you got to the classroom, you felt a thick lump of nausea in your throat. you were answering questions on autopilot, thoughtlessly writing down words that couldn’t even form adequate sentences, and you could swear that by the end of this class you were on the verge of crying or losing your consciousness, because you felt so stupid and helpless, not being able to try your hardest, to focus and get a grip. you hadn’t had enough time to have a proper breakfast, you had forgotten half of your notes at home… god, you couldn’t even find it in yourself to answer art’s messages — as always, he sent you ‘good morning’, wishing you a nice day, reminding you about your plans for the evening. why was it so hard for you to just answer?

then someone accidentally pushed you with their shoulder in the cafeteria, and you stained your skirt with sprinkles of coffee that fell from your hands right to the floor… you were sure that you heard someone laughing behind your back, while you were frantically pushing through the crowd to make it to the bathroom. first of all, you were frustrated, terribly embarrassed and mad; second of all, you missed art so badly, that you teared up in the bathroom stall, because you still hadn’t answered his messages, and you knew that he would worry about this silence. he always worries, you know it, but he always pretends that he doesn’t, because he doesn’t want to seem overprotective or overly sensitive; right now a concerned expression of his loving eyes is the last thing you want to witness.

now, when your classes are over, and art’s car is finally waiting for you in the parking lot, you want to cry again — because he’s looking at you through the window, giving you the sweetest smile, with his thumb absentmindedly rubbing the leather surface of the steering wheel, because this very hand is waiting for its chance to settle on your thigh, or caress your cheek. art has missed you so much, you know for sure; he’s so excited about having dinner with you tonight, because both of you’ve been so busy recently, that you didn’t have a chance to spend some quality time together. and here you are, without any makeup on, with these ugly coffee stains on your skirt, and the same anxiety and suppressed emotions bubbling underneath every inch of your skin, that were making you sweat through the day. what if you smell bad? what if you snap at art, just because you feel like falling apart in front of him?

“how was your day?” art asks in this soft, soothing tone of his. as you’ve expected, his hand settles on your knee, gently rubbing your skin; you’re afraid that he’ll say something about this damn skirt, but he doesn’t even look down at it.

art smells like his usual cologne — such a faint note of it, because he’s already washed it off in the shower after training his tennis players under the scorching heat of the sun on the tennis court; you want to bury yourself in his chest and inhale the familiar scent of his skin, to nestle your nose in his neck and make him giggle, the way he always does when you’re together — so boyish and sweet, despite the age. god, he doesn’t seem much older than you at all.

but you can’t even speak, biting your lower lip, with that gloomy crease between your eyebrows. art notices almost immediately, and out of the corner of your eye, you can see his smile fading. is he no longer happy with you? what if you’ll upset him with your attitude, ignoring him just because you feel terrible? he just asks you about your day, and the next moment tears starts falling from the corners of your eyes; you can feel it prickling in your nose, and suddenly the morning nausea is back again.

art’s heart sinks into his chest, stopping its steady rhythm and falling down to his stomach, slowly dying from the sight of your reddened nose and cheeks, the faint traces of tears on your beautiful face — god, he only wishes to never see you upset again, to make you the happiest person in the world. he’s noticed everything about your busy schedule, your exhaustion and those dark circles under your tired eyes — this life is slowly pushing you to the limit, and you don’t even want him to help you. because you think that it’s completely fine, that you can handle everything that you’ve weighed down on yourself.

you think that he’ll be upset with you? the truth is, art will never leave you alone with your pain, and much less judge you for it — if anything, art will make your pain his own, too. he’s ready to absorb it, erasing the line between your difficulties and his own, because as far as he’s ready to share his bed with you, he will always share your worries, your anxiety, your bad days and overwhelming feelings.

“bunny, come here,” he whispers into your hair, already pulling you into his arms, shielding your trembling figure from the world, from all these people passing by his car — he kisses your soft hair, your rosy cheeks and lowered eyelids, wiping your tears away with his warm lips. his thumb catches a hot salty drop right in the corner of your eye, brushing it away before it rolls down your reddened skin. “that’s okay, don’t worry… no, don’t apologize, sweetheart. we’ll figure it out, i promise”

he’s rubbing your back with his firm, calloused hand, grounding you, silently promising you safety and comfort you desperately need, the same quietness and slow pace of life you miss so badly. he whispers that he’ll take you home now, that the restaurant can wait, that you can order takeout later. at this moment, you know that his home is your home, and nothing else matters anymore.

once you get there, he runs you a hot bath and ends up kneeling on the tiled floor, running his fingers through your shampooed hair and massaging your scalp with his fingertips — you’ve already calmed down enough to speak to him and tell about your day, detailing every single thing that has happened to you. he mutters his little “you did nothing wrong, sweetheart”, “they’re just a bunch of stupid kids” and “you’re still my genius” in your ear, occasionally smiling at your choice of words; to be honest, you can make him smile without even trying, and when you joke? he’s giggling, of course he is.

afterwards, you put his old shirt from one of those tennis events and his boxers on. he leads you to the large couch in the middle of his light, spacious living room, and you both settle in the mess of pillows and a blanket that he’s brought from the bedroom; you rest your head on his chest, while he’s looking at his phone screen, quietly listing what you can order for dinner — as always, he’s the one who does it, because he knows how difficult it’s for you to decide what kind of food you would like to eat.

“you aren’t listening, are you?” he notices with a slight grin, and his voice requires this attractive hint of hoarseness. he traces wet hair on the top of your head with his lips, lazily drawing invisible patterns, finalising them with a firm kiss — more like an attempt to immerse himself into the scent of your (his) shampoo.

you’re half-listening, with your eyes blissfully closed, but you’re smiling at his question — it seems like food is the least important part of being next to him right now; you put your hands under his shirt, drawing small circles on his toned stomach with your fingertips, and you know that it was calming both of you down.

“i love you, art” you whisper against his chest, sending these words right to his heart — literally and metaphorically.

“i love you too, bunny” he adjusts his position to kiss your cheek — gently and lovingly; it always feels even more intimate than making love, because at these moments he touches your cheeks like priceless gemstones, or the finest silk.

“you know that i can do anything for you, right?” his tone changes, but it’s barely noticeable, because he’s still so soft with you, treading carefully to not scare you away from him. “i know how much you value your studies. just focus on it, and i’ll help you with the rest”

you shift in his arms, only to look up at him, resting your chin on his broad chest — you seem uncertain, as always. art’s already got used to it, because you’ve never liked talking about money — his money, particularly.

“i don’t know, art. it’s embarrassing,” you admit, lowering your voice to a whisper, and you feel his hand on the back of your neck, gently massaging your tight muscles — never able to keep his hands off you. “i don’t have enough money, and i can’t give anything in return. don’t mention love, because it won’t be enough”

“love is always enough, y/n,” he doesn’t give you a chance to belittle yourself, to underestimate the value of your love. you both know that you saved him, that you healed him with your very presence, your shy smiles and and the way your cheeks flushed when his lips first touched yours. “i want you to be here, to do things that you love, to not worry about money”

art knows that money can’t buy happiness, but ever since he met you, he wishes to have a chance to buy this precious piece of pure joy, to have it on the palm of his hand, to give it to you without a second thought — and when he’s ready for such things, does money really matter? do you really have to worry about it, when he only dreams about you putting your clothes in his wardrobe, leaving your makeup products on the sink in the bathroom after getting ready for your morning classes, marking the edge of his favorite mug with your lipstick?

you’re so quiet that it almost feels eerie, as if you’re not with him anymore — but then you finally break this foreign silence.

“we can try,” you whisper, and you both smile at the same time — his boyish grin, again. ”i'll call the landlady tomorrow”

trust me, just by looking at his face, it’s obvious that at this very moment he already starts thinking about rearranging his entire house to make it the perfect place for you — dressing table, secluded corner for your bookshelves, maybe even entire room just for you… well, give him some time to think about it, and he’ll make you the happiest person in the world.

thank you for supporting this idea! i hope that the result isn’t too disappointing :( just needed some emotional support from dilf art calling me a bunny, please don’t judge me for trying 🐇

[sillylittlespam]

please please please let me get what i want (lord knows it would be the first time)

leo valdez x reader , hate at first sight , girl who’s nice to everyone but you , enemies to lovers , miscommunication , hurt and no fluff (not yet!)

summary : you and leo started out on bad terms, and you remained on bad terms while you both occupied the argo ii. after the argo ii crashed into an island and sent you flying off the deck and tumbling into the ocean don’t laugh it’s not funny, you lost your favorite necklace in it’s sandy shores. of course, you blame leo even though you know it wasn’t intentional. so, tired of this nonsensical rivalry, leo decided to make things up to you. but they don’t turn out the way he expected.

authors note : this was written with the deftones version of the song in mind, but either will work honestly

also! this plot was inspired by a reel i saw on insta, but i can’t remember or find who it was! if you know, please comment and i can credit her :))

warnings : some swear words, i use fuck once and a couple others

part 2 coming soon :))

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

“What are you doing, (y/n)?” Percy stopped just before the waves hit the sand, watching as you waded around in knee-high water with your shoulders hunched over as you stared at the water and sand below you.

You looked up at him, your eyes still squinting and the rest of your face scrunched with worry, “I lost my necklace while we were landing because of Valdez’s inability to fly the boat he built.”

Your pointed tone was directed to the Latino who had been walking on the beach a few feet behind Percy. Being in earshot, Leo stopped in his tracks, various pieces of metal scraps tucked under his arm and numerous tools gripped in his calloused hands, “What kind of shit are you talking now, (l/n)?”

His tone held its usual bitter spite, but it also had a hint of something else. Exhaustion. His precious Argo II had crashed onto this gods-forsaken island mere hours ago, yet it felt as if he had spent years trying to find out what the hell was wrong with it so they could get back in the sky. His eyes ached with exhaustion and he couldn’t tell if his limbs felt heavy or if it was just the dozens of pounds of metal he was carrying.

“I’m not talking shit,” you shot back with far too much confidence for someone who was using her feet to comb through the continental shelf under the waves, “You crashed the boat. It’s your fault I flew off of the deck and into this water. Therefore, it’s because of you that my necklace fell off and I can’t find it.”

Leo, who had opened his mouth to shoot back some half-hearted response while you were speaking, fell silent. You were right. It was his fault.

Anyone who had been around you at all knew how much you loved that necklace. It had been a gift from your godly parent when you were claimed a few years ago, and you never took it off. You grasped the pendant in your palm when you felt anxious, and the majority of your outfits coordinated with its colors.

And now it was lost somewhere in the sand, and you may never find it. All because of him.

You were still staring at him, and your eyes narrowed in response to his lack of response. You hummed once, something that usually made Leo furious, but this time it felt like a slap in the face. You turned your attention back to the murky water you stood in, and Leo knew that the conversation was over.

Percy watched you for a few seconds, his eyebrows raised as you continued to go further and further into the translucent ocean. Finally, he turned his attention to Leo who still stood behind him, watching you.

“Hey, McShizzle Man, you okay?” he asked, concern filling his attempt at a casual tone.

Leo, who finally managed to pull his eyes away from you, nodded, a forced smile coming back to his face, “Perfectly fine, man. Nothing to worry about.”

He knew that Percy wasn’t buying it, but he didn’t really care.

“I found this stuff in the forest,” he said, nodding to the pieces of metal he held under his arms, “Not to jinx our luck, or anything, but I think it’s from my dad. I’m going to take it to Festus and see what I can do.”

Percy nodded, and Leo cursed him for having such a good poker face. As the dark haired boy opened his mouth again, Leo found himself nervous for what he might say. 

“Awesome. You need anything?”

“Nah, man, I’m good. Thanks, though.” He would have walked away right there and then if Percy hadn’t looked like he wanted to say something else.

“Leo,” the older boy started out much quieter, his inflection already making Leo wish he was halfway across the beach, “That’s not your fault.”

He didn’t need to say or do anything for Leo to know that he was referring to the girl in the water who was mumbling nonsense about a stupid dragon.

“I know,” he said weakly, his eyes falling to the ground.

“The fact that you built an entire flying ship in like, three months is crazy impressive,” Percy said, his green eyes practically staring into Leo’s soul, “Don't beat yourself up because one thing went wrong.”

Leo swallowed, nodding, “Thanks, Percy.”

The boy nodded in response, and Leo finally left the beach.

It was only when he was on his back with a wrench in his hands that he allowed himself to dissect everything. The overall conclusion was that this was not looking very good for him.

First, he had made a joke about your godly parent when he first met you that did not go over too well, then he didn’t react too positively when Rachel spewed out green gas and said you were to go on the quest to California to retrieve Percy, and then he accidentally attacked Camp Jupiter, and now he lost your favorite necklace.

The first and the third events were excusable. In his mind, they were able to be taken completely separate and had no connection to his inability to get along with you. But when putting all four events together, he was beginning to understand why you didn’t like him so much. 

As someone who experienced a large amount of bullying growing up, whether it be about him being poor, in foster care, or having an accent, it caused him physical pain in his chest to think that he might have been bullying you. And while he may not have been, if he didn’t change things very quickly, there would be no denying it.

It was rather unfortunate, the way things worked out. Upon first meeting you, Leo thought you were very pretty. He thought your eyes were very enchanting and that your hair was majestic, and overall he was mesmerized with how you looked. Unfortunately, when Leo gets tongue-tied, he tends to say whatever comes to his mind first. It was completely understandable that you were offended, and he wanted to immediately take it back. But it was too late. He had already made a horrible first impression, and you were not so kind to him after that.

When you had been chosen to go with them to California, Leo didn’t react too positively. It wasn’t as if he pouted, or anything. He would never pout. He may have rolled his eyes as Chiron made the announcement to the camp, but at the moment he didn’t think that was too bad.

Attacking Camp Jupiter was NOT his fault. He was possessed by an Eidolon, which was cleared up. End of story. You still liked to bring it up.

It wasn’t that Leo wanted to constantly bicker with you. In fact, he found it exhausting having to respond to every insult you threw at him. He would never say it out loud, but he wished that the two of you were friends. He saw the way that you had heart-to-heart conversations with Percy and Annabeth, some of your childhood friends, and the way that you threw around jokes with Piper, and how you were quick to form a bond with Jason, Frank, and Hazel, three people who you literally just met. You had a great relationship with everyone on the Argo II except him, and he hated it. All he wanted was for you to look at him and smile, the way you do with your eyes sparkling and your head tilting just a bit to the side. 

Leo did not have a very good track record when it came to girls. It had never really been a problem until he found himself enamored with one, and incapable of doing anything about it. But something in the back of his mind knew that he wasn’t going to give up with you. All he needed was a way to get on your good side.

As the revelation came over him, the metal nut he had been working with fell on his forehead. He shot up from under his work station, nearly smacking his head hard enough to knock himself out.

But that didn’t matter, because he knew what to do to fix everything.

He was going to find your necklace.

“Oh my Gods, Percy, thank you!” You exclaimed as you threw your arms around the green eyed boy. Percy, however, had a puzzled look on his face as he hesitantly returned the hug.

“Uh,” he started, his eyes flickering over to Annabeth, who shared his confusion, “What did I do?”

“My necklace. You found it,” you said, pointing to the familiar chain that now hung around your neck, “Thank you so much!”

Percy blinked, trying to figure out if he was being pranked or not, “Yeah, no problem.”

See, it really was no problem because he didn’t do it.

You might as well have been skipping with how joyful you were as you walked away, your hair flowing in the wind like Aphrodite was on your side she was. Leo pouted watched from afar, his hair still damp and his teeth clenched with frustration.

Fucking fantastic.

He had spent all night searching through that goddamn shoreline, praying to his father or Aphrodite or any other god or deity who would take pity on him that he found that damn necklace. And you thought Percy did it.

Leo had nothing against Percy. The guy was a great leader and an even better fighter. But at the moment, Leo despised the man. How dare he take credit for Leo’s hard work.

“You should tell her it was you,” Leo flinched at the sound of a voice behind him. Turning around, he found Nico di Angelo in his teen angst glory watching him with a strange look on his face.

“What?” Leo asked, caught off guard.

“You should tell (y/n) that you found her necklace for her,” Nico repeated, this time slower, as if he were speaking to a young child, “I think she would appreciate it more if she knew that you were the one who did it.”

“How do you figure that?” Leo was intrigued. He hadn’t spoken to the son of Hades much, and this was the first time he had approached Leo instead of the other way around.

Nico shrugged, “You’ve made it very clear that fire doesn’t mix with water. So she would know that there was more effort and intent behind it, since you don’t have Percy’s water magic shit.  And she would like you more.”

Leo’s eyes narrowed, “What makes you think I want her to like me?”

Nico tilted his head and gave him a look that made Leo feel foolish for even asking, “Leo Valdez, I just watched you spend hours last night digging through the sand for her necklace. You don’t do something like that for someone you hate.”

A silence fell over them as Leo processed what Nico had just said. From what he could gather from Nico’s few days on the Argo II, he was pretty close with you. Before Leo could remember that Nico actually knew what he was talking about, he decided  that he didn’t care whether you liked him or not. Leo just wanted to clear his conscience. 

So what if he liked seeing you happy? So what if he felt a pit forming in his stomach when you hugged Percy? You should’ve been hugging him. You should’ve smiled at him. You should’ve-

“You’re not an idiot, Valdez,” Nico yawned, his hand coming up to rub his bloodshot eyes, “So don’t be stupid.”

“Where are you going?” Leo asked, his eyes following the boy as he turned to begin walking away.

“It’s time for my nap.”

“It’s not even noon.”

“You’re not in a place to judge me right now, Valdez.”

Leo cursed himself, realizing Nico was right. As much as he didn’t want to, he had to confess that he had been the one to find your necklace.

But would you believe him? And how would he even do it in the first place? It’s not like he could casually drop the news over dinner. Pull you aside during one of your “meditation walks” which was just a fun way to say your cooldowns so you didn’t punch someone?

He had to figure it out, and soon.

[fluemsiie]

wrapped [ d. winchester ]

synopsis. tired and fed up, the winchesters mess up on their way to a case and a new human being is bought into the world notes. 0.8k words, headcannons style, being completely naked infront of the boys, kinda graphic (if u squint for the necklace thing), inspired by @daylighted ‘s baby!reader she’s the absolute cutest character and i wanted to write something plot-heavy so this came to me ! — comments & rbs appreciated.

⭑ sam and dean are on the road, clearly both tired from the back-to-back hunts but pushing through anyway. dean’s driving a little too fast, sam is a little too quiet and while they’re both dozing off (yes, o while driving), the music only gets louder— until all they hear is static.

⭑ they both jump which means dean’s foot is off the gas faster than he can comprehend and immediately on the brakes. someone appears in front of the impala, standing up as if they were sleeping on the road. how the hell hadn’t dean seen them?

⭑ and it’s a witch, he just knows it. she smiles, and he motions to sam that she’s dangerous before they both pull their guns out of their pockets, pulling the safety off and getting out of the car.

⭑ “oh, well that’s just not nice, is it?” she pouts, using only her hands so the guns fly out of their hands, with it, dean’s ring. he curses loudly, moving to try and catch it but she mutters a spell and he’s held in place. 

⭑ sam surprised him by muttering a spell too and she immediately cries out in pain, dean uses it as an opportunity to run after his ring and gun but half way there, she screams. the witch screams loud enough for sam to break the spell and cover his ears— dean finds his gun on the floor and shoots her leg twice. she falls onto the floor kneeling, facing dean with a wrath he didn’t know monsters had in them.

⭑ she starts shouting a spell and dean, in exhaustion, let’s her, his head resting on the asphalt, accepting whatever she’s going to throw his way. he reaches out to hold his ring in his palm— but he hears a loud shot and looks up to see sam’s witch-killing-gun in his hand, her hands sprawled towards dean.

⭑ “oh, thank god. that could’ve been bad.” except it is. the witch’s half finished spell is a thousand times worse than if she had finished it, because next to dean is now a… chick. and dean’s hand under her, right where he was holding the ring.

⭑ sam points the gun at you and you start honest to god crying. in under a second. dean stands up, looking over at sam. “put it down!” he mumbles. “is that— oh my god, it’s my ring.”

⭑ “what’s your ring?” sam asks and dean looks over at you, fully undressed except for the charm around your neck, his silver ring. maybe the witch conjured up someone next to dean. that’s powerful— he’s not sure the witch killing bullets are gonna hold long.

⭑ he looks back and— fuck! she’s gone. sam does the same and scoffs. “freakin’ witches, man.” he sighs then faces you, holding his hand out “hey, you okay?” 

⭑ you nod, taking his hand and standing up, your legs wobbling only slightly. “can i take the ring?” he asks slowly and you can’t help but nod, trusting him fully. 

⭑ except the second he tries to pull the necklace, you scream. your hand running over the back of your neck and dean panics, turning you round to take a look and oh god. 

⭑ the necklace doesn’t have a clip because it’s a part of you. it’s embedded into your skin. it only flows from the sides of your neck so dean does you a favour and uses your brown hair to cover it. “i, uh— we should probably— fuck, sam, get some of my clothes.” 

⭑ sam does and when you’re dressed in flannel and way-too-big jeans, you’re not more comfortable than you were a minute ago. you feel safe, you know dean, he’s… yours. you know that much. you’re not too familiar with sam and it’s all new, most of all. the colors, sounds, smells are all too much. your tears are still drying and your eyes finally just stopped watering. “come on, we’ll take you home.” 

⭑ when you’re in the car, you feel home. dean says home is in lebanon, though, so you sit tight in the backseat and explore the entire space. there’s a small carving in the side. d.w and s.w— that, you know. 

⭑ your eyes widen, as if looking into the memory. shouting, screaming— a faint ‘yes, sir’ and arguing. so much anger that you cant handle. you can’t control your breathing. it hurts. 

⭑ “hey! hey! jules, come on!” you snap out of it, taking a quick look around. “hey, you okay?”

⭑ you nod and notice that you’re in the middle of nowhere with sam next to you in the car and dean standing outside, holding your shoulders. “is that my name? jules?”

⭑ sam looks at dean, the same question on the tip of his tongue. “i, uh,” he looks to his brother sheepishly, “no, it’s just. jewelry. jewl. jules. it fits, you know?” you do.

[daegall]

☆ unexpected company.

➷ in which the Gods give your boyfriend a shitty past few weeks, and you attempt to make up for it.

pairing: son of poseidon!jeno x daughter of apollo!reader

genre: reverse hurt comfort, fluff, angst, established relationship!AU

warnings: mentions of injuries (i think???)

word count: 2k words

a/n: jumpscare guys omg what the fuck i havent written since christmas 2 years ago LOOOOL um anyways........ comeback ? everyone say thank you jeno bc he is always and will always be my inspiration <3

btw this is basically . pt.2 of late night company so if you wanna go read that for just a little bit of context go crazy!! (you can read it without it tho)

The last few weeks in the infirmary have been busy, buzzing with clumsy teens and kids who carelessly run around in a sparring with someone clearly much stronger than them. You guess they get it from their god parent. As much as you love the infirmary and taking care of people, you're tired. Really tired. However, your (finally official) boyfriend for 2 months has always been there to help you through it.

Jeno Lee is someone you never expected to be so loving, but really, you should have known when he gave up his own team's flag just to go help you fight off Clairise during a capture the flag match. Despite his very busy schedule, Jeno loves to hang out around you, cracking jokes when you tend to crying, injured kids, getting you water when you don't realize you need it, and always attentively listening to you, whether it be a rant of frustration, or just a chat. Your favorite part is when he kisses you and tells you of how good of a job you've done.

As mentioned, Jeno has a very busy schedule. As expected, from a child of one of the big three gods. However, recently it's been… really packed. When Jeno does have the mercy of free time, he's always sleeping. You haven't seen him in two whole weeks. He's never talking to his friends, you never seen him swimming anymore,a nd worst of all? He's not eating. He loves to eat─and he's not eating. This calls for an emergency visit.

If only you had the ability to. You're in charge of the infirmary, however, and can never seem to find a replacement since your siblings always avoid the job and run away. You contemplate running away from your duties. For Jeno. You could send Jaemin to check up on him… no, he'd end up flirting with any girl (or guy!) he sees on the way. Damn Aphrodite kids. Finally, you decide to act on the former thought.

You don't even make it to the door, before you notice a very familiar presence by the door.

Your breath hitches as your eyes meet Jeno's. They look… tired. Nonetheless, you can still sense the love behind them, and it stirs something in you. You feel a small flame light in your heart, as if he's the one that set it on fire. The fire spreads to your feet as you make your way to him, to your fingertips as they reach out for him, and it's as if that fire has radiated on him, because he instantly melts into your touch, his nose bumping into your palm as he sighs out in what you can only make out to be satisfaction.

Despite his happy demeanor, you still can shake off the feeling of worry that stirs within you, noticing how his shoulders are tense─how he limps as you escort him towards a bed, how exhausted he looks. You wonder if this is how he felt when he saw you that night, on his dock, crying. If so, you'd never want him to feel this way ever again.

"I was just about to come to you, you know," You laugh softly, as you take a seat next to him and grab his hand in yours. It's warm, you've missed how warm it was.

Jeno's fingers instinctively curl between yours, and you feel the callouses of his fingertips on your skin, and it's oddly comforting. His head leans against yours, and he's strangely touchy, as if you were his battery source─like sunlight to a sunflower. "Oh? You were going to sneak out for me?"

You roll your eyes fondly. "I'd do anything for you."

"I know,"

And when his lips press against your temple, its you who melts this time, transforming into a giggly, grinning mess.

"I've missed you, you know,"

Jeno knows. He hopes you know that he's missed you even more. He's missed you every time he sees a band aid, he missed you every time someone made a lame joke, he saw you in every sunrise and sunset, he missed you when he gazed into water─which happens a lot, as a child of Poseidon. If he could, he'd abandon all these missions─what the hell are camp counselors thinking anyway, sending a kid off to beat the largest, most hazardous of creatures? He guesses that's the price of having power.

Jeno doesn't want power, however. He wants you. If power is in the way of him seeing you, he'd rather give it all away to the first person who asked, he'd give everything away for you.

"I've missed you too, baby,"

Your eyes tear away from your connected hands, trailing up to meet his own. They're longing and earnest. You smile, in hopes to comfort him.

It works, it always works. Jeno grins back, his other hand reaching up to brush your hair from your eyes, tucking it behind your ear. He notices a small chunk of your hair is shorter than others, and thinks back to the letter you sent him, the one where you ranted out of frustration when your siblings pranked you during your sleep and cut your hair. He smiles.

"Tell me about your missions," You mumble, encouraging him to fill you in on everything you missed out.

"Well… I kicked ass. Got my ass kicked. End of story?"

Jeno yelps and laughs when you punch at his shoulder. "Fine, fine, it was… fun,"

"Really? But isn't it scary to be doing that all alone?"

In an instant, Jeno's face changes. Alone. He's been feeling that lately.

"uh… yeah, you could say that."

You notice the way his lips curl down, how his brows just furrow slightly. It tugs on your heart.

You squeeze his hand gently, head dipping down to chase his gaze. "Hey, what's wrong?"

Jeno's lips curl back into a smile, and though its weaker than before, it's still there. "Nothing, just a little tired." You nod at his words, processing and attempting to dissect his intentions. "…okay, do you wanna rest here? I can watch over you,"

At your pure intentions and even purer heart, Jeno melts, pulling you closer with a shake of his head. "No need, just want to be here, with you. No longer alone…"

"Hey," You give him a look. He knows that look. You've caught him red-handed. "I'm here for you, you know that. Tell me what's wrong…"

Jeno cracks almost instantly. He could never be dishonest when it comes to you─he could never hurt you. "I just… I was so lonely on those missions. Yeah, I was out at sea, and sure I did talk to my dad a few times but it's… it's not the same as camp, you know? Where you could spar endlessly just for fun, where every meal was full of laughter and not some cold, prepacked plate of literal shit. Where fighting never had me thinking that this could be my last fight."

He pauses for a moment, breathing in deep breaths, but you wait for him. You know when to talk, and now is not the time. Instead, you rub up and down comfortingly at his back, something he's always loved. You feel his breathing slow, and his muscles relax. Then, he continues.

"Nobody understands me. I'm the only Big Three child here, and I hate it. I hate that I'm the only one who doesn't get to join bonfire nights, I hate that I'm the only one that has to constantly live in fear of constant death, I hate that I can't love you the loudest─just to keep you safe! God, I hate that I can't give you everything… to tell you the truth… I hated it out there. I hated every second in solitude, I hated how my thoughts raced for no reason, and how I could hear my heartbeat in my ears, and how empty I felt. I know I'm an introvert, and I love my personal time, but out there… I wasn't alone. I felt like death was creeping up on me, keeping me company. I didn't want death's company─I wanted your company. I missed you, Y/N… so much… and it killed me to know that you missed me too."

Your heart shatters at his words, and the glassy look in his eye, indicating his tears. Your palms envelop his cheeks, despite his tight grip, and you gently direct him to look down at you. "You're here now, aren't you? I'm here, with you," You start with a shaky breath. "and don't you dare say you don't give me everything. You give me everything and more. You'd give me the whole universe and still think it's too little, Jeno," You laugh airily, squeezing his cheeks fondly. "and even though you were away, I always felt loved. You don't need to be here physically for me to know, you know, that how much I trust you. So trust in me too, please. Trust that I'm satisfied, trust that I can take care of myself and that I want you to love me without any fears because we shouldn't have to have fears. Let go, you uptight man, and live! There might not be a lot of people out there who get exactly what you're going through, but people will relate on some level. People are just like that, empathizing and loving. Don't hate who you are, please, because you'd be hating something that I love, something I know is always worth my time and attention and something I will never give up on. Okay?"

Jeno stares at you, his eyes glossy with a tint of red on the outer corners of his eyes. He still looks handsome. He's always handsome. His hand are on your waist, his thumbs rubbing gently over the material of your t-shirt, gently tugging you towards him.

"…shit, did I ramble? Was I too fast? Do I need to say it all again? Gods─um, you give me everything, and more, and I trust you, and I─"

Jeno shuts you up effectively, nudging away your hands holding at his face to dip his head down and connect his lips with yours. They're salty with tears, and so soft, moving gently against yours as you reciprocate the kiss, your hands finding comfort in his hair. He kisses you with yearning, and he thinks that if you came just a millimeter closer, you'd feel the ache of his heart and his craving for you. Your comfort, your hugs, kisses, your smile and your gentle touches, your appreciative glances, your love. He craves your love, and now that he has it, he won't ever let go.

He makes it clear as he chases your lips when you pull away in what is, in his opinion, way too fast, gently maneuvering you closer to him, your chests pressed together and arms wrapped around one another. You wouldn't be surprised if your heart reached out and merged with his.

When Jeno does pull way, it's only to shower your face with kisses and hug you even tighter.

"I'm always here for you, Jen,"

"I know, baby."

You grin, taking his hand in yours as you gaze into his eyes. "Stay the night? I've missed your cuddles."

Jeno's nose bumps against yours as he nods, his smile mirroring yours. "Never wanted anything more."

As you lay in an infirmary bed, wrapped in Jeno's arms, you realize that Jeno has already given you the universe. The warmth you identified as a flame of adoration in your heart has grown into a sun, and Jeno's orbiting around that sun, keeping you loved and cared for. Much like how he is your moon, and you are the tide, constantly gravitating towards him. You like this universe he's gifted you.

[wingedfoolnearthesun]

as someone going through horrific executive dysfunction and general life stress, this is just a brief post on what i do to stay close to the Gods i worship and how i reassure myself that i’m still enough regardless of my mental disabilities and challenges.

it’s been getting more and more difficult recently. i can barely find it in myself to even do my nightly prayers on certain days, i forget to offer the things i’m drinking or eating to Them, and not having a physical altar in my room can really bring me down sometimes.

despite these challenges, i’ve been doing my best to greet Them every morning (even if it’s not the minute i wake up). on days when i’m mentally capable of holding conversation, i do my nightly prayers. on days when i can’t, i offer my general thanks and ask Them for Their blessings. when i do remember (and i say this because i’ve mentioned before how i’ve wanted to make it a habit but i always forget), i dedicate the food and drink i’m having to Them. a simple thanks for the smallest of signs i consider as being sent by Them as well as the smallest and biggest of help i receive even when i haven’t asked, is something i try to do when i can.

keeping Them in your heart and mind when things are tough— when life feels like it’s crushing you rather than helping you move along —these simple actions make you enough in Their eyes. i always try to remind myself that it’s not like i’m going out of my way to be purposefully distant or neglectful. we physically and mentally cannot. sometimes, it’s not in our hands. it’s not our decision to not have the energy, strength, or capability to do tasks such as these.

rather than trying to overcome or get around the mental obstacles as soon as possible, why not dwell in them for a bit? take your time. be gentle with yourself. go slow. it’s never a rush or a race to get right back on track; especially since your religion, your practice, your worship, your faith…they’re not going anywhere. the Gods will still be here—even on the days when we feel lost and confused and upset and tired and so exhausted.

letting your mind drown in the thoughts and worries of you “abandoning your deities” and fearing that They might have abandoned you will do you more harm than good. and trust me, i know how difficult it is to overcome those thoughts when you, in that moment, believe they are the solid truth. in one therapy technique i learned throughout my years at university, you are taught how to deal with your maladaptive thoughts by challenging them. when you have that initial thought of, “i fear i’m abandoning my deities.” fight it. ask yourself why you feel that way, what’s stopping you from your usual practice, what evidence do you have to back up that thought in your head? from your own words of how you still greet Them, how you light Their incense, how you keep Them in your heart and mind, how you think about Them, even how you walk past Their altars everyday— i do not see that you have abandoned Them. your love and determination to show Them how you’ve still got Them in your mind shines very brightly.

just remember to be gentle with yourself.

take your time to heal and get back up, even if you have to fall down again.

How does someone with adhd + executive dysfunction practice their worship?

I've been unable to light Their candles nor properly talk or offer things to Them (other than the stray "hello my Lord/Lady [Name]" and lighting Their incenses) and I walk past Their altar every day and I feel so weak and I don't want to feel like They are just a stray thought or a passing hyperfixation.

I know I can't control my mental obstacles, but it's hard to overcome them or get around them. I'm trying so hard to live, let alone breathe. I keep Them in my mind and my heart every day, but is it enough? Am I okay?

I love you, Lord Apollo ☀️

I love you, Lord Ares ⚔️

I love you, Lady Artemis 🏹

I love you, Lady Aphrodite and Lovely Eros 💕 💘

I've not abandoned You. I can only hope You've not abandoned me.

[teaboot]

Cant wait for the age of enlightenment that will come when we all collectively realize that serial killers aren't highly-capable savant geniuses toying with police and the media for grand and complex reasons but are actually usually just random dumbfucks who stumbled into the golden ratio of 'low-empathy sadist with bad reasoning skills hates women/kids/sex/other races and wants to feel powerful, happens to be in an area with a poor investigative force, gets away with it one time and gets fucking cocky' cause I'm kinda getting tired of it

[stickyvoidpaper]

hc that Tim has a false sleep disorder diagnosis from when he was younger because he refused to tell his parents he was awake for most of the night.

[cosmogyros]

Any other autism-spectrum folks have NT friends repeatedly ask if you're "okay" in social situations? I'm sure it's sweet and well-intentioned, but it often feels like yet another reminder that I'm failing at "performing normality" to an acceptable degree. I have no idea how to act in order to convince people that I AM okay :/

[iamthemaestro]

how do you wake up and not be tired

[mantisgodsdomain]

Anyways, to those who have been wondering what we've been doing during our impromptu Tumblr Vacation or whatever we're calling it, we've been trying to find a playthrough of Baldur's Gate 3 that is made by someone who doesn't annoy the shit out of us, and also tormenting Karlach Cliffgate (as you do)

[scribespirare]

I have many things to do today but I haven't even managed to get up to feed myself yet 😮‍💨

[rattkween86]

it's 4am, and I don't feel real.