#THANKS FOR THIS GENUINELY LOVE GOING OVER STUFF LIKE THIS

[kawoala]

omggg for ur event, can i do a workplace romance w atsumu where ur a new hire that he lowkey has a crush on?? blended would be cool :3. thank you!! <33

RAN THROUGH; atsumu miya. burger—haikyuu. drink—workplace romance.

contents word count ; 746. blended; smau/traditional. reader + tsumu work at a restaurant. minor profanity. DON’T PAY ATTENTION TO THE TIMESTAMPS, THANK YOU! sad undertone? implied fatherless atsumu.

authors notes MAKATTACK!!!! i loved writing this lowkey………………..

the restaurant is empty. it’s 9 o’clock—about an hour past closing—but you’re still here, cleaning. you’re not sure how the customers are capable of dirtying something so fast, but the tables and floors are always filthy by the end of the night.

your movements as you wipe down the last table of the night are sluggish and lazy, your mind is miles away from anything vaguely related to the restaurant. your hand moves almost absentmindedly, wiping the same spot over and over again. you know you should move on, finish this up quickly, but your mind won’t let you move. you’re paralyzed by your thoughts.

class tomorrow. need to visit your mother. do laundry. assignment due tonight. answer email. car needs an oil change. apply for the part-time job at the convenience store on the corner? rent due soon. need groceries.

you go through the thoughts like they’re a checklist. they play in your head like a loop. class tomorrow. laundry. oil. class tomorrow. oil. rent due. class tomorrow. assignment tonight. oil. groceries. laundry. class tomorrow.

“you okay?”

you spin around quickly, grasping the rag to your chest. “atsumu!” you exclaim in a breathless whisper. you hit him with the rag lightly and shake your head. “you scared the shit out of me. i thought you went home already?”

he snickers, and shakes his head as well. “nah. i was going to, but then i remembered i’d rather bother you instead.”

“har har,” you drone sarcastically, giving him an unimpressed look. “seriously though, go home. i can close by myself. all that’s left is this table.” you pause, then narrow your eyes. “did you do the bar? you know the afternoon shift hates it when you don’t put the cups where they’re supposed to be.”

“yes, manager y/n,” he mocks, plopping down in the booth. he puts his arms across the back of it and lets his head fall back, eyes falling shut. “my feet hurt so bad, dude. i think i need to get some new shoes.”

you hum and sit down across from him. you put your elbow on the table, and your cheek in your hand, thoughts drifting back to all the things you need to do. you don’t notice your brows furrowing until atsumu reaches a hand forward and presses his thumb in between your brows.

“what are you thinking so hard about?” he asks, leaning forward, head tilted. the look in his eyes is so genuine, you have to look down at the table. “it’s, like, nine o’clock, dude. you should be thinking about your comfy bed.”

you don’t answer immediately, choosing to pick at a scratch on the varnished wood. “i have a lot to do tomorrow,” you mumble. your voice drops down to a whisper when you say, “too much.”

“like what?”

you look up and meet his eyes again, but not before catching a glimpse of that stupid smile that’s so atsumu you kind of want to punch him. “uh, just college stuff, mostly. i have to pay rent, get my oil changed—it’s gonna cost a lot of money.” you shake your head and laugh humorlessly. “sorry, you probably don’t want to hear about my money problems.”

“ah,” he hums softly, nodding. “i can, uh, change your oil for you if you want. for free. just so you don’t have to worry about it anymore.” he gives you a shrug.

“you know about cars?”

he shrugs again. “a little. my dad was a mechanic before mom had me and my brother, so he taught us how to do basic shit. change a tire, change oil, stuff like that.”

his eyes dart away from yours at the mention of his dad. you want to ask about it, but refrain. you know what it’s like to have family problems—how hard it is to talk about that stuff.

“that’s cool,” you say. “and, yeah, that’d be nice. thanks.”

suddenly, he clears his throat and shuffles his way out of the booth. “come on.” he vaguely nods his head in the direction of the kitchen. “we’re done, let’s get outta here.” you can practically see the hesitation on his as he asks, “you wanna come over? watch a movie, or something? i can make food, too. i’m freakishly good at cooking.”

you laugh at the way he emphasizes his sentence. you stand and wipe the nonexistent dust off your pants and nod once. “yeah, food sounds pretty good right about now.”

[capcollector]

we could make this place beautiful

thinking about when bunny finally gets a day off, but she has no idea what to do with it. like prewar she was constantly working, after she woke up she had her whole journey getting shaun back, after all that she focused her energy into building up sanctuary and assisting the minutemen and railroad with establishing more community, driving out the brotherhood presence, in-between all that always going on supply runs and random quests……and she wouldn’t have it any other way. every minute was worth it. she loves being busy, and in some ways it is partially so she can just keep her mind off other things, but she genuinely just loves doing stuff. she gets stir crazy easily.

but there comes a point several months after the BoS is gone where there is just. relative quiet. there’s a collective sigh of relief, and she’s so thankful for it, but she’s not sure what to do now. she fills her time w a lot of smaller projects, like patching up parts in buildings and repainting some things, setting up/fixing furniture. she’s still a few weeks away from her due date atp so it’s not like she has a newborn to fill up her time just yet either. and eventually deacon sits her down and tells her to take a day for herself, for her own sake. she’s tired, even if she doesn’t want to admit it. you’ve done more than enough. rest. so whether she likes it or not, she’s faced w the first day off she’s had in over 200 years. and it drives her up a fucking wall. deacon tells her to just relax but she’s like. a little worried she forgot how. she almost feels bad for taking a day, like there’s so much she could be doing. but she promises him she’ll take the day off.

i think she spends a majority of the day w shaun. it’s not like she doesn’t spend time w him normally—he often tags along when she’s working on small projects in sanctuary—but today it’s just all about the two of them. eventually duncan and maccready tag along for a bit bc shaun and duncan like playing together, and bunny and mac always enjoy spending time together. just chatting while watching their kids play. the day goes on, the sun begins to set. mac has to go for his lookout shift at the red rocket, duncan and shaun decide to go inside and read some comics, and bunny is left alone.

and i think that’s when it hits her. she’s watching the sun set across the water, across the skyline of concord. the sky’s a pale blue, oranges and pinks bouncing off the clouds. the air is cool and crisp and it’s a beautiful evening…and she just starts crying. her grief finally catches up to her. it’s in this moment she understands she will never see her mother, her old friends, nora ever again. they won’t be able to meet her children, or laugh at their old inside jokes, or share a drink ever again. bunny wouldn’t change a day of what she’s been through; it was worth it to get here. it was worth it to make this place what it is now. but what she wouldn’t give for just one more day. one more day to say goodbye and hold them close, one more day to let the people from her past know they’re what made her into who she is now. one more day to say i love you, thank you for everything.

[letstalkaboutfandomsbaby]

╔══•.·.☆.·.♥︎.·.☆.·.•══╗

buff guy

╚══•.·.☆.·.♥︎.·.☆.·.•══╝

ʚ Part 7 ɞ

❥ CW: chubby fem reader x buff guy, fluff, kissing, very slight sexual stuff

❥ A/N: thank you for your patience! I hope you enjoy!

"You're glowing, Y/N!"

"Really?" you ask, patting your cheek. "What makes you say that?"

"Have you seen yourself lately?" your coworker asks, calling out a name before placing a finished drink at the end of the counter. "Like, have you looked in a mirror? You're just so happy and bubbly lately; I love it!"

"Awww, thank you!" you reply, smiling genuinely. "I mean, things have been nice lately. A lot of good things have been happening to me."

"Or maybe it's because of a certain someone?"

The bell above the door rings as Guy walks into the cafe, holding a gift bag.

"Oh, there he is! Right on cue!" your coworker cheers, walking to the register. "Here to visit your girlfriend?" He nods and your coworker smiles, gesturing towards you.

"You have ten minutes to chat, but then she's gotta get back to work." You touch her shoulder.

"Thank you, Liz."

"Any time, hun." She leans in close. "Ask him if he has a brother," she whispers. You laugh, patting her back before exiting the work station, meeting Guy by a free table. He holds up the gift bag and you smile shyly.

"For me?"

"Of course."

You hum, taking the bag and pulling out the tissue paper. You gasp, pulling out a small red stuffed bear.

"It's so cute!" you squeal. "It looks like a gummy bear!" You hug the bear to your chest, swinging it back and forth. You smile up at him. "Thank you, Guy."

"You're welcome." He leans forward then stops, clearing his throat. "May I—"

You pull him down by his shirt, lips crashing into his. He inhales sharply, surprised, but smiles into the kiss. You stay there for a moment before pulling away, still smiling.

"You're a tease," he says, laughing when you gently slap his chest.

"Don't act like you aren't thrilled to kiss me."

"I am. I really, really am." You sway to and fro for a moment before leaning into his chest, snuggling into him. He wraps his arms around you, holding you tight, kissing the crown of your head.

"Get a room," your coworker somewhat shouts, making you laugh. You try to pull away, but he's still holding you close.

"I don't want to let you go," he admits, pressing his forehead to yours.

"You have to." You boop your nose against his. "I gotta work."

"You could quit. I can take care of you financially."

"Nope!" You free yourself from his grasp by ducking down and stepping back. "I refuse to be financially dependent on you. Gotta keep some kind of independence."

He sighs but nods, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"I wanted to ask if you wanted to go out this weekend? We could go see a movie and get dinner after?"

"Hmm, I was thinking of doing something else this weekend." He looks a tad bit disappointed.

"Like what?"

"Well..." you trail off, glancing around the room, "what if you come over and I cook you dinner?" His eyes widen, lips curling, positively lighting up.

"Really? You want me to come over?"

"Yes!" You curl into yourself, giving him doe eyes. "If you want to, of course."

"Yes," he says quickly, unashamedly. "Yes, I would love to. Should I bring anything?"

"Just yourself. I'll get all the ingredients and whatnot and we can watch a movie on the couch or something."

"That sounds amazing." He sounds like he's in awe.

"Do you like curry? I have this really good chickpea curry recipe."

"I would love anything you make."

"But do you like curry?" He scoffs.

"Yes, I do. I'm sure it will be delicious."

"I think you'll like it." You put the bear down on the table, opening your arms up for him. He joins you for a hug, squeezing you tight. You're squished against his chest, reveling in his warmth before he pulls back to look at you.

"Can I have another kiss before I go?" he asks. You giggle.

"Sure." You get up on your tiptoes to kiss him, giving him a few pecks on the lips before finishing with one long kiss. He lets you go when you're done, a big smile on his face.

"I'll miss you," he says first.

"I'll miss you too." You grab his hand and give it a gentle squeeze. "I'll text you later, okay?"

"Okay," he says, squeezing your hand back. He releases you, lingering for a moment before he turns and walks out of the cafe.

"You two are so cute I could barf." You snicker.

"Oh, shut up, Liz."

You agree on Guy arriving around five thirty. You let him know that dinner will be ready when he arrives.

You start cooking around four thirty, just to be safe. You add some cut onions and spices to a pan, cooking them until they're soft. Then you add crushed tomatoes and two cans of chickpeas, along with a can of coconut milk. You let it all simmer while you cook some rice. The rice is completely cooked by the time Guy knocks on your door.

You skip to the door, opening it up and smiling at him.

"Hi!" you chirp.

"Hey." He lifts up his hand, showing a full paper bag. "I know you told me not to bring anything, but I got some cake for us to share."

"What kind is it?"

"I didn't know what kind you'd like so I got a sampler." You giggle, moving aside.

"Come in, goofball."

He enters your apartment, looking around curiously. You shut the door behind him, grabbing his free hand and guiding him in.

"So this is my humble abode," you say, gesturing to your apartment. "It's not much but at least I'm comfortable."

"I love it," he says, taking it all in before looking at you. "It's so you." You giggle, tugging his hoodie.

"C'mon. Dinner is ready."

He puts the bag down on your kitchen counter, standing to the side as you get out some bowls. You scoop up some rice, topping it off with some curry before grabbing a spoon from your drawer and handing it to him.

"Start with this. You can always have seconds."

"Thank you."

He waits for you to get your own bowl before following you to your tiny table and chairs tucked at the edge of your living room. You sit across from each other.

"Oh! Do you want anything to drink? I've got water and some diet soda."

"I'll take some water with ice, if you don't mind."

"Sure," you smile, getting up. "I'll get it for you."

You hurry to the kitchen and grab two glasses. You fill them with ice, then water, and return to Guy, who has not started eating yet.

"You waiting for me?" you ask playfully.

"Of course," he said seriously. You bite your lip as you sit with him again, placing the waters down.

"You're sweet," you say, grabbing your spoon. "You can eat now."

He takes his spoon, bringing his bowl to his mouth and scooping up a big bite. He chews, sighing and slumping in his seat.

"Oh my god," he mumbles, chewing faster. "That's so fucking good."

"Isn't it?" you reply as you take a bite, moaning happily. "I love this recipe."

"It's amazing," he says, taking another large bite. "I could eat a whole bucket of this."

"Well, there's plenty left for you."

You chew in silence for a bit, watching him shovel curry and rice into his mouth. He finishes his bowl when you've barely made it halfway through yours. He swallows his last bite, pointing his thumb at the kitchen.

"I can get seconds?" he asks. You nod and he nods in return, getting up with his bowl and heading to the kitchen. You hear him get more food before he returns to you, his bowl practically overflowing.

"Got enough?" you ask jokingly, and he nods.

"Yes." He mixes the curry and rice together before taking a bite. "I'm actually bulking right now."

"Ah, so you're building muscle."

"Mm-hm." He takes two more bites. "I'm basically eating whatever I want before I cut."

"What kind of food do you eat when you cut?"

"A lot of lean meat and eggs. And cauliflower rice."

"That sounds horrible." He shrugs.

"I'm used to it by now. I've been doing this for years."

"Do you like it?" He pauses, chewing slow, zoning out.

"Not always, but by now it's a habit and I don't mind it." You hum, finishing your food.

"Well, if you ever decide to quit, I'll still be with you." He scoffs.

"You sure?"

"Yes! Of course I'm sure. Your body doesn't define who you are as a person. So far, you seem like a really sweet guy and I like you as a person, not just your body."

He stops, looking up at you. You lick some sauce from your lip, shimmying in your seat.

"That's very kind of you, Y/N. I want you to know that I greatly appreciate that." You give him a smile.

"I just don't want you to think I like you just for your body." He grunts, taking his last bite.

"Would you still like me if I had the body of a worm?" You laugh, tossing your head back.

"Oh my god! You're ridiculous, haha, but yes, I would. I'd like you if you were a little baby worm and I let you live in the dirt outside my apartment."

"Aw, what? You wouldn't bring dirt inside for me to live in?"

"Hell no. You can keep your dirt outside and I'll bring you in when it rains."

The both of you are laughing now, chuckling and giggling. You calm down, gazing at each other.

"I really like you, Y/N."

"I like you too, Guy."

He sets his elbow on the table, resting his chin in his hand as he looks at you.

"You're really special."

"Aww, you're special too!"

"I mean it, Y/N." You look at him, seeing how serious he is right now.

"I-I know."

He reaches a hand out, beckoning you to hold his. You oblige, holding his hand, letting him bring it to his lips so he could kiss your knuckles.

"Can I tell you something?" he asks.

"Of course," you reply. He swallows, licking over his lips as he stares at you.

"I love you, Y/N."

Your eyes widen, head tucking downward as you stare up at him.

"You're serious?" you ask.

"Of course I'm serious. When am I ever not serious?"

Your hand fidgets in his and he glances at the action, looking back at you.

"I... I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say it back yet," he reassures, letting your hand go. "I don't want you to say it unless you mean it, but I want you to know that I mean it."

"Well, I... I appreciate you telling me, and for being honest."

"Of course."

Silence overcomes you, and you finish eating in the quiet of your apartment.

"I'm sorry for making things awkward," he says as you get up and collect your bowls.

"Don't say sorry," you reply, making your way to the kitchen. "I just... I don't know if I'm ready to say that to you yet and I feel bad about it."

"You shouldn't." He stands up from his seat, looking over the counter at you as you turn on the sink faucet. "I just wanted to tell you how I feel right now, in this moment."

"And I appreciate that." You let the water heat up and fill the sink, adding some dish soap. "I still feel bad though."

"Please don't." He circles around the counter and meets you at the sink. "It's my feelings, not yours. Like I said, I don't want you to say it back unless you mean it. You just—I mean—"

"Guy." He stops, looking at you. You give him a sincere smile. "I understand. I get what you're trying to say. I promise I won't say it until I mean it, okay?"

"Okay..." You give him a look.

"You want a kiss?" He nods and you giggle, getting on your tiptoes and pursing your lips. He leans down to give you a peck on the lips, lingering to give you a few more before he pulls away. "Better?"

"Yeah. Thank you."

"You're welcome." You nod towards the living room. "Go find us a movie to watch."

"I'm surprised," you say as you sit down next to him on the couch. "I didn't think you'd pick a romantic comedy."

"'You've Got Mail' is a good movie," he defends, and you giggle.

"I know; I've seen it."

"Oh..." He twists his mouth. "Do you want to watch something else then?"

"No, I like this movie. It'll be fun to watch it with you," you say, giving him a smile. He smiles back at you.

"Okay."

The movie starts and you tuck your legs under you, shimmying closer to Guy. You both watch the movie quietly at first, staring intently at the screen across your living room. You watch the beginning scene, how Kathleen opens her email and corresponds with the mysterious "NY152". It's when the dual scene with Kathleen and Joe starts that you lean closer to Guy.

"What do you like about this movie?" you half-whisper to him.

"I like Kathleen, how bubbly and kind she is." He glances at you. "You remind me of her in a way."

"Oh yeah? Is that why you started bringing me gifts? You were trying to impress me because I reminded you of Kathleen?"

"No, not that. I just think you two are both really good at customer service. I started courting you because of who you are as a person."

"But you only knew me as a barista in the beginning, not who I was deep down."

"That's why I was trying to win your favor. I wanted to go out with you so I could learn more about you." You hum, wiggling closer still.

"And do you like what you learned?"

"I love it, actually." He brushes his knuckles against the side of your leg. "You're genuinely so cool."

"I'm 'cool'? What else am I? 'Radical'? 'Awesome'? 'Tubular'?" He pushes against your knee and you laugh.

"You tease me too much."

"Aw, don't act like you don't like it." He sighs, placing his hand on your thigh, rubbing his thumb along your leggings.

"I do. I really do like you, Y/N."

"Hmm, well, according to you just a little while ago, you love me."

"I do," he says seriously, looking at you full on now. You're face to face, eyes searching before he leans closer, waiting for you to close the distance between the two of you. You oblige, leaning in and pressing your lips against his. He sighs once your lips touch his, tilting his head to the side, his hand squeezing your thigh gently, reassuringly. You place your hand on top of his, but he suddenly pulls back.

"Your hand is so cold!" he says, eyes wide as he looks down at your hand on his.

"They're not that cold."

"Yes, they are." He grabs your hand and reaches for the other one, taking it when you give it to him. He puts pressure on your hands, trying to transfer his heat to you.

"Wait, let me." You take your hands away, stuffing them between your pressed thighs.

"What...?"

"It's warm in between my legs!" you say cheerfully, kicking your feet. He scoffs, running his hand over his face.

"You're teasing me again."

"What?" You tilt your head. "What are you talking about?"

"Don't play dumb." He looks at you seriously. "'It's warm between your thighs'? What do you think that makes me think of?"

You purse your lips in thought, wondering before realization hits you. You pull out your hand and slap his arm.

"Naughty! Why're you thinking about that?!"

"You're the one who said it!"

"I didn't mean it like that!"

"Well, it sounded like it!" You blow a raspberry, plopping against the back of the couch.

"You just have a dirty mind."

"It's hard to have a clean mind around you."

"Dirty!" you giggle, shoving him. He shoves you back playfully and you repeat the action, the two of you falling into a game of pushing each other. He pushes you once more and you dramatically fall back, feigning shock and giving a quiet scream as you slowly fall onto the couch.

"Blegh! I've been slain." That makes him laugh, and he reaches a hand out for you to grab. You pause but then take it, letting him pull you back up into a sitting position.

"You're really fun to hang out with, Y/N." You give a cheeky grin and pretend to flip your hair with your hand.

"I know!" He chuckles, leaning forward to nuzzle his nose against your cheek, leaving kisses there and making you giggle. You pull away just to wrap your arms around his neck, bringing his face closer to yours.

You forget about the movie and start making out with Guy. You alternate between holding his face in your hands and wrapping your arms around his neck, always keeping him close so you could kiss him. He kisses back happily, hands resting on either side of your hips, fingers clawing into the couch. You slowly lean back as you kiss him, lowering yourself to the couch, and he follows you willingly. Soon enough, he's towering over you at this point, caging you in with his arms as he continues to mold his lips against yours. You feel yourself getting excited, so you spread your legs, one of them swinging and latching onto Guy's hips, trying to pull him in to you. He grunts and unexpectedly pulls away.

"What's wrong?" you ask. His eyes dart over your face, his breathing suddenly quick and heavy.

"I... I gotta go to the bathroom."

"Wha—"

He bolts up quickly, getting up off the couch and preparing to rush away, but he stops.

"Where's your bathroom?"

You stare at him before pointing to the hallway.

"On the left."

He nods, walking fast to the bathroom and closing the door. You sigh, sitting up on the couch. Did you do something wrong? Did he not like kissing you that much? Maybe he got uncomfortable and needed to take a break? You didn't know, but your anxiety was bubbling under the surface, ready to burst at any moment.

He takes his time in the bathroom. You're at the point in the movie where Kathleen loses her bookstore when the bathroom door opens and Guy sheepishly walks out. You pause the movie.

"I'm sorry," he says as you look at him. "I wasn't feeling well."

"It's okay," you say, but you knew it wasn't. He stands there awkwardly before pointing to the kitchen.

"Would you like to try a piece of cake?"

You think for a moment, then nod. You get up and follow him to the kitchen where he takes the cake out of its container. He presents four different types of cake for you to choose. You pick the flavor you want before getting some plates and forks. He helps you place the cake on your plate before getting his own piece, following you back to the couch. You plop down together and start the movie again.

"You missed a lot," you remark, taking a bite of cake.

"I know. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," you say.

"It's not," he replies, cutting into his cake with his fork. "I shouldn't have rushed off like that. I just..." He trails off, looking defeated.

"You just what?" you ask. He doesn't answer, not looking at you. You turn to face him, placing your hand on his arm. "Guy, if you had like a G.I. problem or something, you can tell me. There's no need to be embarrassed."

"I didn't—" He sighs, running a hand over his face. "It wasn't a stomach issue."

"Then what was it?" He sighs again, scratching at his scalp, not able to look at you. He mumbles something, but you can't hear it. "What?" you ask, leaning closer. He takes a big breath, looking up at the ceiling before down at his half-eaten cake.

"I got hard," he whispers harshly. Warmth rushes to your cheeks, and realization hits you.

"Oooooh."

"Yeah."

You stare ahead of you, watching the credits roll on the movie. You scoff, then start giggling, then laughing. He looks at you, offended.

"It's not funny."

"It's a little funny," you say between snickering.

"It's not!"

You put your cake down beside you, putting your hand on Guy's shoulder.

"You're telling me that you're so attracted to me that you got hard just from a little makeout session?" He gives a single nod, and you laugh again, covering your mouth.

"Quit laughing at me," he says, but a smile is starting to creep up on his face. You keep giggling, posing.

"Oh, look at me. My girlfriend is so hot that I got hard just from kissing her."

"Shut up!" he laughs, covering his eyes with his hand.

The two of you sit there and laugh a bit before going back to eating your cake, quietly snickering every now and then as you think about the situation you're in.

You finish your cake, setting the empty plates down beside yourselves. You place your hand on his leg, and he looks up at you, unsure.

"Guy, it's okay. It's nothing to be embarrassed about. I'm actually quite flattered."

"You are?"

"Yes. I think it's very flattering that someone I like also likes me, especially in that way." His eyes dart to the ground and then back to you.

"You don't think it's weird?" he asks. You shake your head.

"No, I don't." You give him a look. "You wanna know a secret?" He hesitates but nods. You lean in closer to him. "I was getting into it too, if you know what I mean."

"Oh..." He furrows his brow before his eyes go wide. "Oh."

"Yeah." You pat his shoulder. "So it's not just you feeling these things."

"I..." He licks over his lips. "I really want that one day, if you're willing."

"I will be one day." You twist your lips. "But not today because you kind of ruined the mood by running to the bathroom once things started getting heated."

He laughs, nodding.

"I understand. To be honest, I don't know if I'd be able to control myself if we did anything like that now."

You raise your eyebrows.

"You trynna tell me something?" Realization hits his face and he shakes his head.

"No, no, nothing crazy. I just mean that I wouldn't last very long if we did stuff like that now."

"Awww, that's so cute!"

"Oh, shush!"

You laugh again with him before sighing. He glances at his watch.

"I really want to stay, but I should probably get home."

"That's okay," you say, standing up and stretching. "I'll walk you out."

He gets up with you and you walk to the door. You open it for him and he stops, leaning down to kiss your cheek.

"Goodnight, Y/N."

"Goodnight, Guy."

He leaves and you close the door behind him.

[ricky-mortis]

S1 Pulp Musicals Gang my beloved

[ao3screenshotss]

[astral-catastrophe]

me and the generic extra strong Tylenol and the pure rage in my system

[swiftfootedachilles]

what do i have to do to get people to read my stuff actually like im not about to get in everyones faces begging for attention but i dont understand how im expected to make FREE fandom content without much feedback on my work

[nexus-nebulae]

the aftermath of having 2 terabytes of storage

[kingdomoftyto]

...Okay well damn, season 2 is way better than 1 was. I'm actually getting kind of invested now

[dmumt]

genuine question is having a flatmate ever a pleasant experience

[enterstellars]

and with that i do believe that my run with interstellar in imax has come to an end.

[theha1rarch]

actually wait before i start on stuff bc i forgot i wanted to write this up in honor of sinday & taking a page out of @milleroptimism's book to share sad usfw hcs ...

i think we should talk about the fact that while yes, steve has slept with a lot of people. yes he had a bit of a reputation in high school, but even after high school he was still sleeping around a lot. yes, this is all very true. i'll be the first to admit that steve is a bit of a slut (affectionate) ...

HOWEVER, i think we should also talk about how much of that is steve being starved for human connection. & like yes part of that is being touch starved (on a separate note we should talk about the fact that sex was like the only positive touch steve had for a while), but overall is/was about steve just wanting/needing/craving human connection & just wanting to feel something with someone. wanting to feel close to someone. wanting to feel a little less alone, even if it was only for a short period of time. & like how much he clung to that? even if it was just sex ... it was something. something he had.

but like i think the other side of this is the fact that the people he was sleeping with ... weren't really in it for the same reasons. like, they were just there for sex, a good time, especially considering it was with steve harrington. the hot commodity, y'know. which kind of means ... they weren't as focused on steve & his feelings as they possibly should've been. & steve being who he is, that instinctive selflessness, the need to make other people happy. especially considering he didn't want them to leave & he was just so desperate for this connection he was getting ... all meant that steve didn't exactly focus or worry about himself during these escapades. like his own pleasure, his own satisfaction went out the window. he just wanted to make the other person happy. service top to a t. even if ... deep down, he kind of wished it was the other way around. or at least, a little more equal. but he'd never admit it, never put his needs or wants before someone else's, never admit he wants to be cared for. for one, no one needs to worry about him anyways. for two, he couldn't risk losing what he had especially considering he only had it for a short time ...

& then the final thing i want to cover with this ... is yes it's about wanting human connection, but over time becomes more about wanting a permanent connection. like to put it simply, steve wants to find someone who he falls in love with & someone who loves him back. he wants to find The OneTM. he just, wants, to be in love. he wants a relationship, something to be built into something beautiful & permanent, that will last forever. so he yearns. he continues to sleep with people, hoping to find something. he looks for love over & over again. he pines & yearns quietly & hopelessly ... only for it to seem impossible, pointless, unreachable. only to watch it happen to everyone around him, but never seem to be for him. only for it to fail every time he tries, only for that spark - that connection to never seem to be there with any of the people he takes to bed. or for them to not want the same things steve wants. again, most of the time, they really just want a good time with steve harrington ...

& maybe it's this, all of this, along with the fact that one time he did think he found TheOneTM ... it didn't work out. & she fell out of love with him (or maybe never even really loved him in the first place). but maybe it's all these things ... that make steve think it's never gonna happen. he's never going to find that person, that permanent connection, no one's ever going to fall in love with him. maybe it's just not in the cards for him, just not meant for him. maybe he's meant to just sit on the sidelines & watch it all ... & maybe ... just maybe. that's because, he's unlovable. & he always has been. maybe just maybe.

[235uranium]

okay... I've only got sojiro rank 10 left and futaba's at rank 7... let's just hope I don't get fucked up by turning down the romance route

[theloveinc]

oh no u guys are definitely good friends and looking out for her by bringing up important things she should consider. i think she might just be frustrated/embarrassed she didn't think that far and is lashing out bc of that?😭

my roommate said the same thing too!! (screenshot + more under cut)

and like i said, i really do hope so because it means we actually got thru to her and she wants to do more not to end up in a bad spot. but it's still so frustrating bc no matter what we said about caring for her and looking out for her, we couldn't get it thru that we weren't saying these things to be mean... she just deadass did not believe us which like ... c'mon !!!!

(esp because this is like ... the 188th issue she's had with this guy and the 45th about money specifically... AND they've only been dating a year and a half or so.... ugh it just makes me want to cry for her bc... she wants to marry him anyway???? PLEASE.)

[burymagdalene]

Crazy Little Thing Cold Love - S. Reid x Reader

Where the fierce cold brought by their holiday with the team to a ski lodge leads reader and Spencer to seek warmth in more ways than one in their room. Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader Genre: Fluff and Smut (18+ pls pls) tags: softdom!Spence, fingersucking, dry humping, lots of messy kissing, fingering, oral (fem receiving), handjob, piv sex, overstimulation (I can’t help it), praise, fluff, of course, they love each other big time! wc: 6.1k. a/n: I genuinely did not think more than 20 people would read my last (first) fic, I was smiling ear to ear and stalked everyone who liked it basically. I hope this isn’t too long. I don’t know what the fic length sweet spot is. Anyway, I was imagining our pretty boy in the Alaska episode 5x21 while writing this. MERRY CHRISTMAS YA FILTHY ANIMAL

Despite not knowing how to ski, when Spencer invited you to join him and his team for a quick holiday to a ski lodge in Colorado, you nearly melted in excitement. 

You’re over at Spencer’s apartment, bag readily in hand, watching him try to find outfits for this occasion. “Well.. I’m not going to be skiing, so I think regular clothes will be fine, hm?”

“Just bring a couple sweaters or something, that’s what I did. And a swimsuit.” You comment as you lay on your stomach on his bed, scrolling through your phone. Spencer takes his head out of his closet to spin and look at you.

“I didn’t even think about that. Of course. Thank you.” He mumbles and walks to his dresser, unsure if he even has swim trunks here. In his bottom drawer he digs through ridiculous ties and socks he’s forgotten about and begrudgingly finds the only swim trunks he had since highschool.

You scoot your body towards the end of his bed, leaning your head over to look at the way-too-short purple swim trunks he’s holding up with an unmistakably gloom look on his face. “Oh… you have to try those on. Right now.” You request through giggles. 

Spencer stands up slowly placing the trunks in front of the trousers on his legs to see how the size difference from a pre-pubescent Spencer contrasts to now. How badly he’s about to be humiliated in front of his coworkers. 

It’s nothing too horrifying, just blatantly un-Spencer in a way that has you both laughing at the ridiculousness of it. Seeing your boyfriend in short shorts has yet to occur! Regardless, Spencer slips off his slacks and pulls the shorts over his legs, jumping to put pants on for the first time in his life.

Spencer does not look bad. The shorts are too high up, he has probably grown about 6 inches since he picked these out. The tag is still on, he’s never even worn them. They sit nicely fitted on his upper thighs and he has his hands covering his face laughing as he shows you. In an over exaggerated manly voice you laugh out a “do a little spin for me hot stuff” at a groaning Spencer.  

“Babe,” Spencer laughs “I cannot be seen in these. In front of my highly respected team as well. In front of… Morgan.” He begins to take them off and throws them into his duffle bag anyway. 

“Noooo you gotta. Plus it’ll probably be just the two of us in the hot tub or whatever at a time. We’re not all going to be sitting in it together. At least I hope not…” You giggle a bit at the image. You have to give Spencer props though, him a few years ago would’ve cancelled his RSVP or purposefully left the swimsuit at home leaving him to a trip of staying in a random log cabin reading. 

It’s not for a case, so the team does not have access to their own plane, making it so that you and Spencer are doomed to wake up at 5am to meet everybody at the airport. You give out multiple sleepy sidehugs, unable to believe how equipped everyone is at waking up at unbearable hours. With this though you are able to sleep through the flight from D.C. to Colorado just fine using Spencer as your pillow. 

The ski lodge made you gasp when you arrived. Snow that was not present in D.C. covered every inch of the area; two levels of wooden panels lead to a huge snow slope behind the lodge. Through many “ooh’s” and “aah’s” it was finally revealed that only Rossi, Hotch, and JJ knew how to ski. Though, Emily and Morgan were equally as interested in learning from the best. This left you, Garcia, and Spencer to inside activities; watching your friends ski, groaning at lack of cell service (Garcia), reading, and the wonderfully heated pool and hottub that rested on the porch overlooking the slope. This, of course, made everyone squeal. 

Rooms were doubled up and you and Spencer unpacked your bags chatting with Morgan who was leaning against the doorway regarding ski tricks.

“If you’re so uncoordinated and haven't touched a slope in your life, why would you care about how skiing can aid astronauts mobility?” Morgan questioned Spencer's rambling about astronauts who have experience with skiing and had an easier time walking on the moon. 

“Well I’m not walking on the moon anytime soon either I just think it’s fascinating that cross country skiing-”

“What is that?” Morgan interrupts Spencer when a sweater covering his trunks in his bag gets put away, revealing the tiny purple fabric. You start giggling as Spencer sighs. Morgan walks into the room and picks them up from his bag. “What does this sweet girl have you wearing for her, Reid?” He teases.

Spencer definitely grabs them from his hands “Nothing! I got them when I was in highschool, I don’t go swimming a lot.” He sighs and looks down at you shaking his head as if to say “what did I say?” without speaking. 

Morgan relents seeing Spencer's face redden a bit. “Ah, pretty boy, well, this look might be good for you, I can’t wait.” He exits laughing after ruffling Spencer's hair. 

Spencer plops down on the bed next to you, scooping you in his arms. “This better be the most heavenly hot tub I’ll ever experience…” he sighs into your neck. You wrap your arms around him too, running your nails softly over his back and whisper back “Oh stop. You deserve a break, it will be.”

Later that day after playing a few rounds of Spades, everyone decides it's time to face the cold, put on gear and ski. Or watch them from the patio. It’s amusing even though you have no concept of how they’re going down with such elegance. It almost looks too easy for them. You have two sweaters on and a ski coat. Apparently, coming out with one sweater and a coat was so offensive to Spencer that he made you tack on another layer. “You’re the coldest person I know, please add another, baby”. Spencer, who was bundled up himself, pleaded as you spun around on your heels to redress yourself without protest because you know he’s right. 

With your chin tucked into your hands, pressed between Penelope and Spencer, you all take on the roles of pseudo-Olympic commentators to pass the time. The horrible butchered transatlantic accent coming from you all worsened by the warmed eggnog held between cold palms. Spencer eagerly grins as he sees Morgan stumble a bit in his boots, “Yikes, not a good start for Morgan, whose first Olympics is this year. Now wait, wait, it is down to the wire but…YES, it looks like Morgan has gone for the gold and succeeded. Such a momentous moment in the young athletes career-”

Penelope slaps Spencer's arm, doubled over laughing at the fake news anchor voice he has adapted for this role he has put on. “Stop, stop, he’s going to get mad at you!” You all wipe the smiles off your faces and put on fake serious ones as Morgan trudges back up the slope, looking more suspicious than if you had just kept laughing. He shakes his head in disappointment towards the three of you.

All sort of tipsy and numb from the cold decide to go back inside. The rigorous ski activities today coupled with the early morning, causes the rest of the team to head to bed early. You and Spencer run towards your room at the same time, pushing past each other in the door frame as you try to stumble into warmth. 

You slide your coat off and plummet to the ground to turn on the space heater with a speed as though it was a bomb you had 3 seconds left to disarm. You put your hands near it to warm them, looking up from the floor to Spencer who is smiling down at you from the bed. He silently motions with his head for you to sit over by him.

Whining and pulling yourself away from the heater, you get up and stand between Spencer's slightly open legs. He places his arms behind him and slouches back on his palms to get a better look at your face from where you’re standing. He tilts his head innocently to the side and squints at you. “Is somebody too cold? I would’ve never guessed that…” 

Scoffing and pulling your arms around yourself to conserve heat you mumble back “Noooo… I mean. Just my hands. Hah, they feel like they’re made out of molasses.” Spencer gives a mocking sort of pitied smile up at you, which you ignore by the good graces in your heart. He shifts his weight back onto one hand and slips one of his chilled palms up the front of your sweater to your waist. You wince at the juxtaposition between your flushed skin under your layers and his icy hand. 

You grab his wrist from under your sweater with an icier hand. “Don’t… torture me.” You beg at him. He furrows his eyes together and pouts, as if the idea of removing his hand from the curve of your waist would drain all the blood from his veins. Spencer hums and takes it off anyway, sitting up straight and taking both of your wrists into his hands, placing them together so he can cover your hands with his, moving back and forth to spark some friction into them.

The heat starts quickly from your fingertips to your wrists and you hum in content. Spencer whispers a “Yeah, you’re okay,” in response. “Your hands are freezing, I’m sorry angel.” Very malleable from the sweet heat you’re finally getting, Spencer continues to move your hands so that your palms are facing his face now. He kisses your fingertips softly, the warmth from his mouth makes you let out an almost silent moan. 

“S’that nice?” He looks up into your eyes, you still standing there like if you moved all the heat you’ve accumulated on this spot of the floor would vanish. You nod breathlessly. Spencer smiles at your response, not wanting to tease you further, preferring the flush in your cheeks his warmth is supplying you over his taunting. He begins to press more soft, slow kisses over your fingertips, moving your hands at his will by your wrists. 

Then there is a progression to open mouth kisses on your palms, he bends your hands down to kiss over each of your knuckles, eyelids open and trained on your face. Spencer rubs his cheek on the back of your hands and moves them again so the sensitive skin of your inner forearms are facing him. Rolling up each sleeve of your sweater, he coos at the goosebumps that raise from the air on your newly exposed skin. The kisses start from your wrists up to the crux of your inner elbow. You get a second round of goosebumps from a different source now.

You let out a rush of air at the sensitivity picking up on your arms from his mouth, from the cold. Spencer places one last kiss on your arm and nips the inside of the sensitive skin there. At this you can only make a pinched face and mutter out a simple, “Spence.”

He can’t help but grin at your placidity, he’s used to your sharp tongue, but this evening you’re nothing but soft sounds and looks. Your goosebumps soon fade as he rubs your arms up and down a few times and slides each of your sleeves back to their rightful places. “Warm?” He questions finally.

Truthfully, the space heater has kicked up enough that you don’t feel like your life's on the line anymore and you on the outside are just as warm and fuzzy as you are feeling on the inside. Still, being doted on is never something you would allow to run short if you have any say in it. “Mmm… my fingers just can’t. Get warm?” You don’t even believe yourself.

Spencer decides to take pity on you anyway through the “woe is me” act you’re executing poorly. “Ahh. Pesky things. Let me try something.” Spencer picks up your right hand again with the delicacy of picking up a butterfly and places your fingers against his lips again. This time though as he’s looking up at you and cupping your hand with both of his, he positions your middle and ring finger down so that they’re the only two pressed against his lips.

Starting off, he kisses them like before, sickly sweet, only with your warmth in mind, then ups his ante a bit. With a small parting of lips, Spencer's tongue tentatively pokes out around the fingers. He’s testing the waters. Easily, you give an eager nod of approval. 

Another hum falls from Spencer's lips as he takes your two fingers, to the second knuckle, deeper into his mouth. Sucking your fingers now and staring up at you, you shuffle yourself closer to him, straddling his legs and resting your other hand against his shoulder for purchase.

Spencer’s hands slip from yours and find a place under your sweater again, and this time you let him with no complaints. You take your hand from his shoulder and cup his jaw gently with it, guiding his head back slowly, allowing him to take in more of your fingers. Spencer sucks them gently and moans around them when your fingers grip his jaw a bit too hard. You drop the hand that’s grabbing him. One has to be careful not to bruise the jaw that’s sucking their fingers. Something like that.

Letting go with a gentle pop, Spencer takes a breath of air and pushes his face up to meet yours in a wet kiss. Your wet fingers cup his face as he takes your bottom lip between his teeth and tugs. 

“Mmpf-” You groan, pain spreading lightly in your mouth now. You briefly think of your first kiss, how feather-light it was that you hardly even felt him there with how tentative he was. After all this time you’ve enabled this boyfriend of yours to use his teeth to nip you like a territorial kitten who is privy to love biting. 

With an open mouth you kiss him hard in a rebuttal that has him smiling against your lips. “Hmm, don’t groan, you’re not going to break,” he wraps his arms around you fully, moving his mouth to your ear now, “helpless little lamb-” his voice gentle despite his mocking candace. 

You don’t feel like baring your teeth, fully satisfied with allowing Spencer to push your buttons until he inevitably notices your novel docility and rewards you for it. You know him like the back of your hand. 

Wrapped in his embrace and legs open over top of him there’s an instinctual need in your brain needing you to grind down on him and a more voluntary decision bred from embarrassment that is saying too soon too soon. In the crossfire of these conflicted thoughts your thighs concoct an awkward shaky squeeze motion and immediately lift up from him. 

“Going somewhere?” Spencer says in a pretend-serious tone before snickering at you once you silently sit back down on him. He understands you just as well as you do him and slips the arms that are under your sweater to brace your hips against his. “Is this what you wanted? You can take whatever you want from me.”

Sitting back down to where you were previously on his lap you card your fingers through his hair. “How chivalrous…” you murmur against his lips before you open your mouth to kiss him again. You have learned how to utilize time being spent while kissing Spencer over the course of your relationship. Rather, you have learned how to kiss each other in a way that signals immediately to the other that you’re needing this to progress past dry humping. The way your lips are slotting together and the way he’s pulling on your lips with his is a blaring sign. 

After you let out a shuddering sigh while pulling away for a breath, Spencer uses this opportunity to usher you so that your back is flat against the bed and he’s resting his arms around your head on top of you. With one of his hands against your cheek and the other caging your head in you easily slip back into the version of yourselves that tremble with need, this desperation not well suited for either of you. Intolerable.

Spencer’s thigh is regrettably too far away for you to grind yourself against and in order to shake the throbbing at your center you wordlessly take his hand by your face and bring it down over your jeans. He takes the hint immediately cupping you so you can grind against his hand through the thick fabric. 

He likes to pull away for this part. Spencer stops kissing you so that while he’s rubbing your clit through your pants he can hear your unoccupied mouth moaning while he kisses along your jaw and neck. He thinks of it as a cheat code really, he gets to keep kissing your skin while simultaneously hearing your progression from moans caught in your throat to small whines and begs.

Surprisingly, Spencer is the first to break and ask for the fabric barriers to be discarded, which makes you proud because you’re the one who’s the most impacted by your (basically) industrial grade jeans prohibiting you from feeling your boyfriend's fingers against you. 

“Baby, these are killing me,” He’s already moving above you to unbutton your jeans and shimmy them down to around and off your ankles. “I promise I’ll keep you warm.” In all honesty you’ve forgotten about the biting wind outside and the slopes of snow toppling over, but you appreciate the sentiment regardless. The idea that being cold will genuinely stop you from having him inside you right now is laughable.

You sit up and take off your sweater and undershirt as Spencer is working on your lower half. Working as in mouthing over your cunt through your panties as you struggle to unhook your bra at the visual.

Your legs are parted, thick white socks still up to your shins, and once Spencer threw your jeans to the ground he laid between your legs to kiss and lick over your panties. You keep fumbling with the clasp whenever he sucks or kisses over your clit. Not the most efficient moment of your life. “J-Jesus, I can’t get this off.” You huff and break him out of his pussy-induced stupor. 

Spencer comes up from between your legs and shuffles over and unclasps your bra with such elegance that you can’t even comment on it because you know he’s boasting over it in his head. Instead you pull over his sweater and shakily unbutton the top half of his button up shirt while he works on the bottom half. Your hands briefly meet over his middle button and he kisses your forehead with a smile as he pops the last one open for you both. 

His own slacks are thrown off alongside yours on the floor and you both grab at each other to take off one anothers underwear in such an eager manner that you have to laugh at each other for a moment before finally sliding them off. 

Spencer guides your head with his hand behind it as you slowly lay down besides him. Knees propped up and together, he places one of his hands on the outside of your thigh, gently running his fingers tips up and down the skin. “Why don’t you go ahead and open up your legs for me?” He asks between petting your leg.

Now, he must notice that it would be too easy for him to open them for you, like he so naturally comes to do. He’s coaxed your thighs open, held them down from the backside of your knees while you squirm from his lips sucking your clit, pushed them together and to the side when you’re squeezing his sides too tight while he’s fucking you. There is something delightfully humiliating about spreading them open yourself. So eager to display for him the shiny wetness that has been coating you for a demeaning amount of time, like gifting him a bashful merit badge for his effortless work.  

You look up at him through your lashes, his eyes are fixed on the softness of your lower belly, waiting for the moment you start to move so he can see your sex being revealed the instant you do it. Pervert. Taking one of your hands away from the bed you trail it slowly from the bottom of your ribcage to the very part of your stomach that has Spencer transfixed. Teasing yourself and Spencer simultaneously, you push your hand between your closed thighs, still hiding yourself slightly, and dragging up some of the wetness you collected with your first two fingers.

This time your fingers go into your own mouth, sucking off the taste of yourself while you watch Spencer mouth breathe and the tip of his dick start to dribble. Poor thing. “I love you.” He whispers into the air, incentivizing you to just do what you’re told. 

Embarrassment flushes your chest as you part your legs for him, putting both of your arms lazily above your head, finally rewarding him with saying “I love you” back once your thighs are on opposite sides from each other and your pussy is on full display. 

He shuffles closer to you on his knees, arm reaching out to softly run his hand on the inside of your thigh. “Look at you… can I touch?” Spencer’s asking like he doesn’t know if he doesn’t you’ll die.

“I’ll die if you don’t.” He should get where you’re coming from. He smiles meekly to himself, proud, or maybe just plain excited, and spreads apart your lips with his fingers. Your toes curl in on themselves as he slides his middle finger through you, spreading your wetness and mulling your ache. It’s almost too much to watch this near-inspection and you turn your flushed cheeks to the side and look at how his dick is a matching shade of red to your face. You love this part. Tangible evidence to how he feels about you, not that you need any more, but seeing right in your face how being with you makes his thighs tense and cock heavy puts a smile on your face.

With two fingers now he’s collecting the sticky soft wetness that never stops collecting in times like these, and rubbing your clit with them in such a gentle way you scoff out a “Please-”

Immediately he gives in, he’s not a professional at avoiding your begs even when it's looking like he’s going to be in charge. Pressing his fingers harder against you he rubs faster circles onto where you’re pleading for it. “Being so bossy. We haven’t even started.” He quips, trying to gain back some of the fervor he has for being in control, not just sit back, be a good listener, and give give give. 

Your clit throbs helplessly against his fingers. Wanting them harder and faster, wanting them inside you, in your mouth, against your throat, you can’t help but whine at the possibilities montaging in your head. Spencer watches a small dribble of white essence leak from you, mutters a “Jesus” to himself and slides his two fingers off your clit to inside of you. You choke on your moan, not expecting to be so full so quickly, it’s perfect. Spencer isn’t teasingly fucking you with his fingers. He knows how to curl them, he does so. He knows to put his forearm into it in the way that makes you stamp your legs shut. He’s fucking you quickly and easily with them as you bring your hands over your face.

“There, Spence.” You mumble against your hands, biting the skin of your palm to be courteous to everyone else in the house right now.

“I know.” He pushes against that spot in you that’s made you cry and rubs with a pressure made with love. You buck your hips and let him get away with whatever he wants to do with you, but the noise coming from his fingers in you makes you want to float out of your body. 

Brows furrowed and head pressing back against the bed your hips start to twist, with a mind of their own, turning over onto Spencer's hand. This part you can’t control. “Mmm, Spencer. Okay, okay, fuck.” You’re bargaining in your own way, for something neither of you know, but Spencer figures out every time. He slips his fingers out and places them on your clit again. Wet and pruned from being inside of you, he can move fastly against it as you gasp.

“I wish you could see what I see right now. So wet. You’re about to ruin these sheets the first night, baby.” He laughs gently at you. 

“Th-then stop touching me.” You bite back. Immediately scared of the idea of him following through. 

Spencer would literally never do that. He rolls his eyes a bit and furrows his brows at you when you make eye contact. He hums and adds a third finger to rub circles against your clit, two not being enough anymore for a precise massage with how wet you are.

Moving slowly back flat against the bed, your pelvis gives up on trying to crush Spencer’s hand underneath them. When his other hand trails down to fuck you while he rubs your clit you look for a way to thank him without bringing humiliation to yourself for years to come. You feebly grip the base of his dick, palm fairly loose around him as he’s currently milking all of the strength from your limbs. 

Spencer plainly laughs at this, it’s so you. He’s making your brain leak from your ears and you can only pump him lightly a few times. The one instance where you two have tried to 69 this story ended a similar way, with his tongue doing unspeakable things while you can just moan around his dick and wetly kiss it. It’s hard to do things while he’s fucking you. 

You huff, wanting his pretty leaking dick to be getting the same amount of attention as you are. Keeping your one hand on his base to keep it from bobbing, you reach over with your other hand to rub his tip, smear himself all over the sensitive top. He’s stopped laughing now.

“Please don’t make me cum right now.” Spencer pleads softly as he starts to quickly rub your clit from side to side now instead of the circles he was doing before. Fuck, talk about a competition. Your back arches up from the bed as your hand falls limply from where it was on his tip.

Wanting to inform Spencer on how you can’t jerk him off while he’s touching you so he should just start fucking you properly is not a sentence in your capabilities right now so you try your best with a “fuck me fuck me fuck me.” Doesn’t leave much for interpretation.

He slows his fingers and pulls them away with a sad “sorry, angel…” after glancing at your sour face from the lack of stimulation you’re getting now. He slips off the bed entirely to grab a condom from his bag, and throws it on your stomach for you to open after his fingers slip trying to tear the wrapper himself from your wetness still on his fingers. 

Fully situated between your legs again now Spencer looks up at the ceiling briefly while you roll the condom on him as if saying a prayer for composure before he’s inside of you. You can’t help but smile at this as you start to rub him between your legs, grabbing his attention back onto the task at hand.

Whenever Spencer first slides into you, you have to make sure to keep your eyes open to watch his face since he nearly always wears the same angelic face that you never get to see elsewhere. His mouth becomes a small “o”, his eyebrows are furrowed together, but not like he’s squeezing them down, they’re pulled up in a blissed out expression as his eyelids flutter closed. Heavenly.

He’s got one of your thighs in his grasp and he’s pushing it up against your ribs as he begins a steady pace with his hips against yours. There’s strings of your slick attached to his upper thighs from your inner legs rubbing against him. Maybe you are making too much of a mess out of these poor clean sheets.

After his initial haze of trying not to come instantly, Spencer brings back down his right hand to continue flicking your clit back and forth with his wet fingers. You bite down on his shoulder to keep from terrorizing your housemates. Your propped up foot, still covered in your warm socks, thuds softly against his back as the other one grips onto the sheets. 

“Feel nice baby?” Spencer asks into your hair as you bite down onto him.

How he could ask you this is beyond you, though you suppose he’s indirectly asking you to feed into his praise kink. “You feel so perfect Spence,” you whine against him. “unhhh…might be a bit too obsessed with your cock” you slur and laugh a bit at the end, not sure what will do it for him. Nevertheless he lets out a choked whimper and loses his rhythm. Bingo. 

His weight is pushing you down so you can’t wiggle away from any of the stimulation he’s giving you. It accumulates quickly and, just laying there and taking it, you don’t get enough time to warn him you’re close. You weren’t close really, it felt good and then you came. Sucking in air through your teeth your thighs squeeze around Spencer, who is murmuring “oh baby…” into your ear. 

You want to kick him for how good he’s making you feel. It feels unfair and you want to throw a tantrum based on how his fingers are still rubbing your twitching clit and how much you love the feeling of drowning in his pleasure. You’d never throw a tantrum though. Right now, Spencer has caught you in a completely willing mood where you’re closer to proposing to him than anything.

It’s dizzying. Your mouth is wide open in shock as you let him touch you into overstimulation and you don’t even realize it till he lets go of the vice he had on your leg and brings his free hand to put his thumb into your mouth. Latching onto it immediately, you use it as a buffer, a gag, to prevent yourself from making too much noise or mouthing off. You bite down a little on the digit and drool rolls down your lips to your chin. Spencer takes his thumb out, collects it, and pushes it back into your mouth.

Spencer reverts back to rubbing your clit back and forth with his middle and ring finger, losing purchase a few times with how wet you are, but finding his way back to your sweet spot just as quickly. You feel the second orgasm building this time around. Your eyes shoot open, you suck softly on his thumb and he looks back down at you, recognizing the pleading look in your eyes.

“Yeah. Y-yeah, angel. S’a good girl-” he gives his sort of permission and you cum so hard you don’t realize he’s finishing right behind you. 

He’s petting your hair with his hand, both wet from either your cum or your spit and you try to shove that complaint out of your head because of how sweetly he’s moaning above you as he finishes. He’s done cumming but he tends to keep sliding into you after, not ready to give up the whole experience yet. This is when you hear his prettiest sounds.

You cup his cheeks and kiss all over his face and he softly smiles and finally pulls out of you, laying on his back and scooping you on top of him. Tracing a finger over his lips softly you whisper how impossibly good he always makes you feel, how he gets you so wet that you didn’t even know you had that much in you till the tips of his ears go red and he pinches your side. 

“Open for me.” He asks one more time after shaking off the blush that has accumulated from your praises. You smile and open, finally sucking off what’s left of yourself from his fingers. He pops them into his mouth after yours without a second thought and you cannot believe this is the man who gets the heebie jeebies when he has to shake hands with someone new he meets. They should be the ones hesitant to shake his hand with where they have been.

Both feeling ridiculously sticky, you shower together, not even bothering to unpack your toiletries, just using the too-lemony-smelling products the lodge has provided you with for free. Spencer washes your hair for you so you don’t even need to complain to him about how he’s dirtied it and you both trot back over to the bed with fuzzy robes on. 

You cover your face with your hands at the unmistakable wet patches all over the sheets and Spencer collects them quickly and pops them into the washer. 

Exhausted, you both lay side by side on the barren bed as you wait for the sheets to be done. Mumbled against your lips a proposition, “I want to see you in that hot tub.” He clearly feels bad for the goosebumps littering your torso that he’s subconsciously been trying to rub away for the last twenty minutes after you left the heat of the shower. 

Blinking blankly at him for a moment in silence you purse your lips, “I was thinking about the hot tub too.” The thought of removing yourself from the room that has cold leaking back into it from the lack of physical activity now is thrilling.

Spencer laughs and sits up next to you on the bed. “Everyone is so exhausted from waking up early and skiing all day that we will be all alone so I thought now would be a good-”

“Yeah,” you nod your head enthusiastically at him. You can’t remember the last time you were in a hot tub and it sounds like a dream right now. “Let me get my suit.” You both wobbly stand up and you retrieve your swimsuit from the drawer, laughing while you toss Spencer's trunks back at him. He’s so blissed out from the sex that he doesn’t even mention the trunks, he just slips them on and heads out. 

You make Spencer step onto the freezing porch first after you demand him to take the cover off the hot tub for you both, this was his idea after all. Watching from the glass door you blow your breath onto the glass to draw a little heart with an “S” inside of it in the fog. Spencer blows you a kiss in return as he skimpers out in his purple trunks and enormous ski coat.

The alternation between walking out in a swimsuit in that ungodly temperature, into the hot jets of the hot tub feels like whiplash, but once you’re fully submerged you giggle happily and sway your hands under the water.

You and Spencer play footsie under the water like two lovesick teenagers at a pool party as you look off the balcony at the snow. You nudge him under the water a bit before talking,

“Thank you so much for bringing me to this, seriously. I feel like we’re on our honeymoon.” you joke.

Spencer hums and takes your hands into his, rubbing the outside of your hand with his thumb. “Mmm, well on our actual honeymoon I’ll probably have to take you somewhere warm to avoid all this teeth chattering.” He teases back at you, but his words have an underlying sincerity that makes you sink yourself down into the water to your chin with a smile.

“You’re gonna marry meeee,” you respond in a sing-song voice, Spencer grins back for a moment then looks at you and nods earnestly. 

“How could I not?”

[dollishmehrayan]

BATBOYS WITH A STYLISH READER ── .✦

a/n: so I tried to base this off of me because I like genuinely LOVE fashion and creativity (my closet is seriously so full rn but I keep buying and buying but soon I’m gonna donate some pieces I never wore/ won’t wear again when i’m like moving in 5/6 months (in April) but anyways yeahh this is requested by the wonderful @luvly_writer (I GENUINELY DONT KNOW WHY MY MENITONS ARENT WORKING TODAY!?!?

tags: (batboys x stylish reader ᥫ᭡)

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

Dick’s always had a decent sense of fashion, but after meeting you, he realized his wardrobe could use some spicing up.

“Okay, I need help,” he says, holding up his closet of endless leather jackets and dark jeans. “It’s starting to feel like I’m a character in a some main character show..” (this tiktok HELPP here)

You pull together a sleek but casual look for him, fitted trousers, a patterned button-up, and a blazer. When he sees himself in the mirror, he whistles.

“Are you sure I’m not about to walk the runway?”

He loves when you add your flair to his outfits, often saying, “This is why I’m with you.”

Eventually, Dick starts mimicking your style in small ways—accessories, boots, and bolder colors. He’ll even joke, “You’re rubbing off on me in more ways than one.”

JASON TODD ── .✦

Jason scoffs at the idea at first. “I don’t need to be styled. My leather jacket and boots are timeless, I don’t need like bags and purses like you.”

But then he starts noticing the way you turn heads wherever you go and how people always stop you to ask where you got your hat or etc from, and he gets curious.

One day, he half-jokingly says, “Alright, fashionista. Make me look less like I just rolled out of a biker gang.”

You have so much fun dressing him in a sharp, dark button-up, fitted jeans, and Chelsea boots. When you suggest a leather trench coat instead of his usual jacket, he raises an eyebrow but ends up loving it.

“I look like a villain trying blow up something in broad daylight,” he says, smirking. “But, like, a hot one.”

Jason doesn’t fully change his wardrobe, but he starts incorporating your suggestions—better fits, fewer holes in his shirts, and maybe a sweater or two. He always claims it’s to “shut you up,” but deep down, he loves how confident it makes him feel when his s/o chooses stuff for him.

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

Tim’s wardrobe is functional. It’s not bad because there’s a DIFFERENCE, Timothy drake wayne dresses in suits and is high end and chic but regular tim well… tim Is tim but he DOES care about what he wears just not like that serious about it, but it’s very much “guy who spends more time in front of a computer than a mirror.”

One day, he asks, “Do you think I should update my wardrobe? You know, to look… presentable?”

You practically light up, dragging him out for a shopping spree.

He’s a little overwhelmed by how excited you are, but he secretly loves the attention.

You pick out layered outfits—hoodies with tailored jackets, clean sneakers, and pants that actually fit. When he tries them on, he’s surprised at how good he looks.

“So this is what it feels like to be stylish,” he muses.

Over time, Tim starts borrowing pieces of your style. He’ll wear scarves, experiment with glasses frames, and even tuck his shirts in occasionally. You catch him researching minimalist fashion on Pinterest once, and he sheepishly admits, “You’re a bad influence.”

DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦

Damian has a sharp sense of style already (thanks, Talia and Bruce), but he finds himself intrigued by your unique flair.

“You have a good eye for aesthetics,” he says one day, almost shyly. “Perhaps you could lend me some… insight.”

Styling Damian is like working with a blank canvas—he’s open to trying new things as long as it doesn’t compromise his dignified image.

You help him experiment with layered textures, sleek boots, and subtle patterns. He refuses anything too colorful but surprises you by agreeing to a deep emerald green blazer.

“I look… distinguished,” he admits, staring at his reflection.

He starts taking inspiration from your wardrobe, incorporating more modern and creative touches into his outfits. Every now and then, he’ll ask, “What do you think of this?” before leaving for an event.

Damian also becomes oddly protective of your style. If someone tries to copy you, he’ll say something like, “Flattery may be the sincerest form of imitation, but it’s wasted when done poorly.”

BRUCE WAYNE ── .✦

Bruce is already a style icon, but when he starts noticing the effortless way you put together outfits, he gets curious.

“What would you do with this suit?” he asks, gesturing to one of his many black ensembles.

You tease him for being so predictable but suggest a few changes—adding a pocket square, switching up his tie, and choosing a dark navy instead of black.

When he steps out in the new look, even Alfred raises an approving eyebrow.

“Now I’ll have to think about my outfits.”

He begins to take subtle cues from your style, occasionally asking for your opinion before galas. You catch him sneaking glances at your Pinterest boards once, and he pretends it’s for “business purposes” (you had to private your pin board after because he keeps buying 10 of each of what you put on your Pinterest board.)