#all the details in this game are perfectly done

[purgatorygrl]

God I was watching this part of the story and my heart broke when I saw how incredibly sad Arthur looked. I mean, it's totally logical. The bank robbery had gone horribly wrong, his greatest father figure had died, Lenny who was probably like a brother to him and he loved had also died, John who was a brother to him was captured along with Charles and Abigail whom he also loved, plus the rest of the band that he didn't know what had happened to them either.

He was on a boat in the middle of nowhere and he didn't know if he was going to get out of there alive and if he would be able to see any of them again.

[fragmentedblade]

I don't know, it's silly, but I really love this story. I fell in love with the details and how everything cohered beyond my expectations, how the little details in worldbuilding made big things click and make sense even though they seemed typical fiction "too much but you have to suspend belief" things at first. And I actually honestly think most of the things some parts of fandom complain about are not only coherent, but some of the best more nuanced aspects of the writing. Everything that I thought and interpreted, even to the most minute details, was confirmed. Even, again, to the most minute details I loved but thought I was being stupid for paying so much attention to, because surely they couldn't mean as much as I thought they did. Yet they did.

[porcelian]

ROUGE IN HIS HANDS | j. todd | 3.3k

SYNOPSIS: jason 'n reader dance at a gala (result from voting) ;

RATING: smut with fluff ;

WARNINGS: clothed sex, p in v, oral fem receiving, oral sex, reader and jay have an obvious oral fixation in this, cum eating, public sex, switch characters, mutual orgasm ;

NOTES: during the writing process i had in mind a jason and reader who have been partners for a long time now, so sex is something they've explored, so he's more open in this specific work.

✹ ꕀ MASTERLIST & NAVIGATION & AO3.

THE SILVER BEAMS OF MOONLIGHT POUR THROUGH THE GLASS WALL, COVERING THE ROOM WITH AN OTHERWORLDLY HUE. Cool and polished, the marble wall gleams under the light, its smooth surface marbles with veins of smoky silver and hints of gold. Tonight, Wayne Enterprises is holding its annual charity gala at Gotham Museum of Antiquities—complete with an elegant venue; eye-catching décor and displays; unending speeches and presentations along with slow, dramatic waltz and special VIP rooms.

Tonight, Jason leans on that polished marble wall—with his own polished black-tie suit. The ink-black velvet suit makes him blend in with the rest of the crowd. He’s done well with avoiding the rest of the mingling Gotham elite, choosing to hide away in some dark corner. Jason watches the ivory-colored champagne in his hand as he tilts the glass from one side to another—a game, if you will. A game to pass the time.

He looks down at the opulent watch on his wrist. It was a gift given to him by Dick. No matter how much Jason said no—or complained, by his brother's words—he didn’t want the ridiculously costly accessory. Though, Dick persisted—just as he did with Jason attending this gala.

Jason glared at the numbers on the watch’s dial. The Roman numeral IX stares back at him as if it’s mocking the man. Jason fidgets with the collar of his alabaster button up shirt—too tight around his neck. His foot restlessly taps against the shining surface of the floor beneath. Jason folds his arms across his chest as he retreats deeper into the corner.

Time couldn’t move slower, he thinks.

He hears a singsong voice call out to him as light steps echo closer— “How long are you going to stand there like a statue?”

The raven hair and ocean-like blue eyes of Dick are unmistakably familiar, even the teasing and lighthearted tone of his voice is engraved in Jason’s mind. Dick takes his place next to his little brother, leaning against the tall marble wall. His smug grin danced across his face. Dick playfully nudges Jason, prompting an answer out of him.

“Until this tedious, faux gala—I mean, important social occasion—ends. I don’t know how you survive here.” Jason groans, head falling back against the cool surface of the wall.

Dick lets a soft chuckle escape, “—Well,—” he clicks his tongue, “—It helps when you have a pretty thing by your side.”

Jason picks up on the tone of Dick’s voice and the suggestion. He can’t help but roll his eyes at his brother’s oh-so creative idea. The thought lingers in his mind for a minute—you, in some fancy outfit, perfectly suited for you, thin fabric hugging your plush and petal soft skin in all the right places.

His hand tightens around the champagne glass. Dick laughs again, satisfied with Jason’s reaction.

“Just wait until you see it in front of your own eyes.” Dick makes sure to emphasize the final words as he motions Jason to look across the dance floor.

There you stand, on the edge of the dance floor. The golden filigree of the ivory floor glows beneath your feet. The crystal chandelier casts a shimmering light upon your dewy skin. The rouge-colored velvet fabric flows across your frame like waves in a calm sea. Your hair meticulously detailed and styled drifts down from your neck and lightly touches your bare shoulders. A rose-gold pendant rests in the dip of your chest.

Your piercing eyes scan the crowd, searching across the mingling elite for a certain someone. Their dim glow reaches Jason even from the distance between you two—it turns luminous when you spot him.

He almost chokes on his breath.

“I’ll leave you two to it.” Dick smirks as he pats Jason on the shoulder. He moves before Jason can give him a nudge of his own and disappears into the crowd.

Your heels clink across the ivory floor as you approach him. Jason can swear he can feel and hear the champagne glass crack under his tightened grip. The drink is left forgotten as he leaves it on a nearby table. Jason meets up with you. Suddenly the suffocating air of the gala dissipates.

“Thought I’d find you moping in some far away corner.” You giggle softly.

“Well,”—Jason takes your hand in his—palm face down as he places a gentle kiss on top of it. His lips linger on you as he holds eye contact, the aqua hue of his eyes are like a siren’s call, beckoning you closer—“everything has changed since you’ve arrived.”

Jason’s warm touch lights a fire on your skin’s surface. You take a second to break out of your sweet reverie. “For the better, I hope?”

“Of course it’s for the better. Without you this entire ordeal would be rather boring.” He muses.

“You think all galas hosted by your father are boring, but with enough persuasion, you always show up.”

“Enough persuasion, huh?”, he laughs, “you think I’m so easily persuaded?”

You gather the courage to step even closer to him. The slight bob of his Adam's apple gives you all the confidence you need.

Your eyes dart across his frame. The ink-black suit sits on his body like it was made for him specifically. The heat spreads throughout, settling deep into the crooks of your body. Does he even know how he looks right now? A sculpted statue of a Greek god, made meticulously by a renowned artist, stands in front of you.

You can’t seem to tear your eyes off him, your mind too busy and occupied with wondering what other details of the statue hide behind the black velvet fabric. Jason notices this too, proved by the flustered cough that leaves him and the slight pink tint on his cheeks.

You gaze into his eyes again, “Aren’t I proof of that? A few sweet words from me and you’re at my beck and call.”

Jason chuckles, “You’re the only one. Count yourself lucky, you minx.”

A sly grin dances across your face, “Oh, I am very fortunate. Though, I’d like to test your weakness for me one more time.”

“What do you have planned?” He lets out a faux groan, eyes following your lips every move.

“Dance with me.”

“What?”

You stammer, the confidence you felt a few moments ago slowly leaving your body, “It’s a gala, right? I’m your partner and I thought we could dance? Only if you’d like of course! It’s not mandatory to dance, I just-”

Jason takes your hands in his own, “—I want to.”

“To dance? With me?”

“Who else?” He laughs, the sound akin to honey. You want to taste his sweet oh-so desperately on your tongue.

“O-Okay.” You lead him to the dance floor.

The ivory floor contrasts with the colors of your clothing. The lights across the room dance on you both, bathing in the warm, golden hue of the glow. Jason’s eyes shine like aquamarine crystals under the sunlight on a coast near the sea, touched gently by the seafoam. The two of you move and sweep through the crowd on the dance floor akin to the soft, rhythmic ebb of a river. It’s not precise, nor perfect. It reminds you of the cracks between broken pieces dipped and stitched back together with gold.

Your hand in Jason’s feels incredibly right, as if it was always meant to rest in the safety of his touch. Your cheeks graze as you attempt to hide yourself in the crook of his neck. A single whisper breaks you out of your trance.

“Don’t hide yourself, please. I want to see you—all of you.”

The words escape from the tip of your tongue, “you can, if you’d have me.”

Your suggestion rings in Jason’s ears. The surprise on his face is proven by the widening of his eyes and the slight part of his lips. His grip on your hands slightly strengthens, careful not to hurt you.

“Fuck.” He groans, the sound going straight to your core. The music slowly ends as he starts leading you towards an empty hallway. “I t-think they have rooms for the VIP’s here.”

There’s excitement in your every step. The more you walk, the more impatience eats at you.

“Jay-” You whine out, “Please-”

“Shh,” He smiles, “patience, and maybe you’ll be rewarded.”

Jason spots an unoccupied room near the two of you. In a few seconds he has you ushered into the privacy of its walls.

Now it’s just the two of you. The air feels hot and intoxicating. It doesn’t take long for the both of your lips to meet. The feel of his lips against yours is so familiar it strikes an aching feeling deep in your heart. Your cherry lipstick gets smeared more and more with every move of your lips. You finally let go of the strings of worry pulling at you and melt into his hold.

His hands travel from your hips to your waist and lay flat against your spine, bringing you closer as if the two of you will embrace each other as one. Every touch lights a fire on your skin. You suck on his bottom lip as your hands move from his face to the back of his neck, luring him closer as his tongue explores every corner of your mouth.

You whimper against Jason’s mouth. The wet kiss finally breaks. He sucked in a sharp breath. His eyes pierce into your own. The look of them makes you quiver in his hold.

Jason’s fingers graze your swollen lips, parting them. Your tongue reaches out on instinct, searching for his skin—his taste. He chuckles followed by a quiet hiss.

“Needy thing.” He moves closer, making you take a few steps back before reaching the bed. “Did you plan this?” He softly lowers you on the bed, hands trailing down to your hips, teasing the slit in the fabric hugging your plum skin.

You shamelessly drag your hands down his chest, clawing to reach his skin underneath the layers of clothes. “Please, Jay-” Your body aches for him, every part of you calls out to him, yearning for his touch, his kiss, his—

“Did you think about this?” He asks, his voice low as he reaches down to whisper in your ear, his lips teasingly close to you. “I know I did.” You can see his flushed skin and slightly tangled hair. He looks so beautiful, intoxicatingly so.

You let out a whine as he kisses the skin connecting your jaw and neck. He nibbles down on the skin, pleasure and the slight bite of pain mixing into each other oh-so well. It lights embers in your body as in his. He takes in the captivating smell of your lingering perfume, making him wish he could drown in it.

His tongue on your neck trails down to your chest, leaving blossoming marks in its wake. They feel electrifying, sending bolts of lighting down your body, straight into your core. Your thighs press together, searching for friction.

He chuckles, looking up at you, “Shh—” He hikes the fabric above your waist, “—let me take care of you.”

Jason sinks to his knees. His lips dance across your thighs, leaving wet kisses in its wake. Your hips shake, body too sensitive from previous touches. Your hand covers your mouth to muffle the whimpers escaping from it. His hand reaches up to yours, ripping it from your mouth.

“I want to hear you—every sound. Just lose control, love. You look angelic like this—under me, spread and so giving, ruffled hair and needy whines—such a pretty mess.” He purrs.

“Jay—” You shudder when his lips graze across your clothed pussy, “—Oh my god.”

Jason chuckles against you, the sound vibrating from your pussy to the rest of your body. He hooks the fabric of your soaked panties on his finger, moving them aside. You bite back a moan at the cool air touching you. Tears well up in your eyes, ruining your mascara.

“Look at you, dripping from me. Did I make you wait for it, baby? Let me make it up to you, yea?”

“Yes, yes, please, Jay—Mh!” The moan hitches in your throat as Jason's lips kiss your folds, his tongue teasing the entrance. “Feels good, Jay…”

He pushes your thighs above, placing them on his shoulders. His hands grip around your hips, trapping them in place. You arch your back as his tongue delves in your cunt. Your breath quivers as he sucks down on your clit. His tongue flicks along it, sending bolts of pleasure up your spine.

“Fuck, right there—don’t stop!”

Jason’s digits rise and part your folds as he inserts one inside you. The moans bounce across the room as he works you towards your climax, as if you’re an instrument that he knows every string of, which one to pull, graze, shake, and grip.

The pleasure builds up, spreading slowly throughout your body. Your climax hangs as if it’s a thin thread about to snap. You shake and cry out for Jason—the one currently working you up to the oh-so satisfying cut of that string.

Your noises feel him with a confidence he doesn’t feel anywhere else. It’s enthralling—the fact he can make you feel so good. He’ll carry you to your climax because that’s what his darling deserves for giving him such a good present—dressing up for him, being so giving—his sweet darling.

The shaking of your thighs grows more intense, just like the moans escaping your mouth. He adds another digit, curling deep inside your cunt. His touch reaches you just in the right places, making you feel dizzy from it all.

“‘m close, baby,” you whine, “god, yes-”

The thread tithers on the edge. Every curl of his fingers and flick of his tongue pushes you closer to that very edge. Your breath gets caught in your mouth, only a strangled moan leaving when your climax hits. You can feel his satisfied grin on your pussy lips. Your chest rises with every bolt of pleasure. His tongue doesn’t let it go. He laps up your cum leaking from your cunt, savoring the taste.

Jason’s fingers delicately dance across your folds, cum collecting on them. He raises his hand for you to see. The moonlight reflects off of the shiny white liquid on the tips of his fingers. Your walls clench at the sight, eyes widening and head falling back against the bed. He laughs again.

“C’mon, be good—clean them.”

He rises from his position climbing on top of you again. His head tilts as his hand moves closer to you. You shudder as the smell of your own climax reaches you. You open your mouth, tongue searching for a taste. He settles the fingers in your mouth. Your tongue swirls around his digits. The striking taste of your slick and cum spreads your mouth. His eyes never break contact with yours, the stare is too intense. You squirm against his body.

Jason’s breath gets caught in his throat. “Fuck—god—pretty girl, good job, just like that.”

His praise makes your hips buck into his own. You want to pleasure him too. The bulge in his pants proves his arousal and need. Your hand slowly trails down his clothed body, searching for any sign of refusal. When he gives you a shaky nod with a crooked smile, you take that as approval.

You take this chance to switch positions. Lowering him down onto the bed you move to straddle his hips. The fabric of his pants grazes your bare pussy, the sensitivity making you shake. Your hands move to his bulge again, palming him over his clothes. He sighs with pleasure, hands clutching the sheets underneath him.

You coo at his reaction, “My pretty boy.”

He whines, the sound coming out as a quiet plea. His hands leave the sheets and grip your hips—surely leaving bruises decorating your flush body. Jason’s hair’s akin to a halo, the moonlight seeping through the window faintly covers him in a faint glow, making him look heavenly. The sight makes you groan.

“Let me take care of you now.”

Your hands move to unzip his pants and free his clothed cock. The flushed red tip leaks of precum.

Jason rasps, “darling, touch me, please.”

“Shh, don’t worry—” You lean down to press a chaste kiss on his forehead, “—I’ll do whatever you need me to.”

You raise your hips as you settle your hands on his chest, hands digging into his disheveled clothes. The tip of his cock kisses your cunt as you align yourself. You sink down onto him, his entire length slowly disappearing into your warmth. Your velvety walls hug his cock.

He shudders with pleasure, “—Fuck, baby- tryna milk me dry, ah-”

You try to settle onto a rhythm. His hands—still on your hips—help you along with the pace, pulling them down onto his cock. The sounds of moans and skin slapping against skin spread throughout the room, bouncing across wall to wall. His hands reach up to your chest, grazing your nipples. Jason chuckles as your eyes widen and thighs shake with every touch.

Both of your moans mix into each other—the sound downright shameless but akin to ambrosia. The similar thread coils for Jason. His breaths become shaky, as your rhythm changes and pace becomes messy. Jason’s hands trail down from your chest to your hips, hanging on.

“Don’t stop, baby- please.”

He bites down onto his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood, trying to muffle his sounds. The coil threatens to unfold any second. Jason’s back arches with every desperate thrust, his hips coming to meet you in the middle, chasing that high. His climax reaches closer and closer.

“Can I kiss you?” You ask with a shaky voice.

He barely makes out your words in his hazy mind, “Of course, god-”

Both of your lips crash together as Jason’s climax hits him. He whines into your mouth, hands flying up to grip any piece of you he can—waist, spine, neck—he settles on cradling your face. Breaking from the kiss, his red and flushed lips tremble from ecstasy.

“How are you feeling?” You mumble into the crook of his neck, snuggling closer.

Jason wraps his arms around your frame, hiding his face in your hair, taking in your smell. “I’m feeling amazing- christ.”

You giggle in response. Moving from his neck you place a soft kiss on his cheek. “I love you—like I’m crazy in love.”

“I love you too, baby.”

You settle against his chest. Your eyes scan the room, taking notice of the messy sheets and the smell of sex spreading throughout the entire place. You suddenly remember the promise you made to his family about making him step out of his shell when it comes to these galas. Plan successfully failed?

The two of you slowly shuffle off the bed. Adjusting your clothing is fairly easy, the hair is more of a problem. Your make-up is a mess, too.

You tut, “Jay…”

“I think you look beautiful.” He moves closer to place a chaste kiss on your lips, his tongue slipping out to taste the smeared cherry lipstick.

“Crap, are we just going to leave the room and return to the gala like this?”

Jason lets out a laugh, seeing him lighthearted and content like this spreads a warmth in your heart.

“Well, I’m sure you’re a sight for the eyes, but I don’t want to share. We’re sneaking out.”

“I miss home. I don’t like these galas.” you whine.

“Me too. But I did like this one.” He smirks as his hands smooth out the back of your dress.

You snort, “Good. Maybe next time you’ll get lucky again.” You button his suit.

“I’ll hold you to that.” His hands try to settle your hair in a more presentable state. “We’ll get there and I’ll set up a warm bath for the two of us. After that we can finally rest.”

“I love you. I wanted to say that again.”

Jason smiles, eyes moving across your face, “—Me too, darling.”

© ROBINSFILM ﹕ I do not give consent for my writing to be posted or used on any other platforms without my permission and proper credit.

[nhlclover]

HANDS TO MYSELF QUINN HUGHES

pairing: fem!reader x quinn hughes

summary: after weeks of clashing schedules, yours and quinns calendars finally align for a much-desired date night.

warnings: veerrryyy sexually charged (but no smut), quinn and reader are very much in love, quinn being a lil bit horny, makeout

wc: 2.45k

notes: came so close to writing smut for this fic but i didn't think it would be good. also here is the dress i'm describing if you care!

In a serendipitous alignment of your overfilled schedules, the night finally arrives. Weeks of clashing obligations, games, appointments, practices, and disappointments converge to clear a single slot in time, and Quinn, ever the romantic planner, had spent the entire day coordinating for it. He’d spun a few webs to secure a table at Riley’s, a restaurant that you knew had been booked solid for months. The restaurant itself was peak elegance, serving high-end food with the best of service.

You pulled the black, satin dress that hung in its garment bag out from the back of your closet. It was a dress that had been waiting, forgotten but pristine, for an evening like this. You stepped into the dress, pulling the zipper, but realizing that the button at the top would need the aid of Quinn. Your makeup was done, hair pulled up into a messy, but planned bun on the top of your head. You check your reflection, every detail scrutinized until it's perfect. In the low-lit glow of your vanity mirror, you look radiant, a piece of art made alive.

When you’re finally ready, you drift into the living room where Quinn is waiting. He rises at your entrance, and the room seems to shrink around you. His silence feels louder than any compliment. His eyes take you in, from the cut-outs at your waist to the way the fabric hugs and accentuates the curves of your body perfectly.

Then, as if he can no longer contain it, he utters, “You look… I can’t believe how stunning you are.” His voice is reverent as if you were something divine and beautiful he had stumbled upon.

“Thank you, baby,” you say softly. You take him in as well, the chocolate-colored suit tailored to fit him perfectly, the white dress shirt unbuttoned slightly to show off the curves of his chest. “Can you help me do up the button?”

You turn around, exposing the deep, plunging back to Quinn. When he catches sight of your exposed back, you swear you hear him let out a whimper. His calloused fingers brush against your back, attaching the button. The sensation of his lips pressing a light kiss to the back of your neck sends goosebumps all over.

“All done,” he says in a breathy voice.

As you turn to face him, your heart skips a beat, taking in the intensity in his eyes. There’s a simmering hunger in his gaze like he's seeing you in an entirely new light and savoring every inch of the view. For a moment, his fingertips linger on your bare shoulder, his thumb tracing gentle circles over your skin. He’s close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating off him, and the subtle scent of his cologne fills the air around you. The magnetism between you is undeniable, making it easy to get lost in the moment.

Quinn’s eyes drift from yours to your plump, gloss-covered lips, then back up to meet your gaze, smoldering and almost pleading. You feel the tension between you both rise, quiet electricity sparking in the space between your bodies, drawing you closer. He leans in, lips barely grazing your ear, his breath hot as he murmurs, “You sure we have to go to dinner?”

The way he says it makes your heart race, a low hum of excitement settling in your stomach. He’s looking at you as though dinner could wait, as though the evening he planned so meticulously is suddenly the furthest thing from his mind. You manage a playful smile, resting your hands on his chest and pressing back ever so slightly to keep a sliver of space between you.

“Quinn,” you whisper, forcing a bit of composure back into your voice. “I don’t even want to know what you had to do to get a reservation at Riley’s. And if we don’t leave now, we’re going to miss our reservation.”

He lets out a soft groan, but a smile tugs at his lips. “Fine, but only because I’ve waited long enough for this night.” His hands slowly fall from your shoulders, lingering a moment longer than they need to. He takes a step back, slipping one hand into yours, as if reluctant to let you out of his grasp even for a second.

Hand in hand, you head to the car, the cool evening air a gentle contrast to the warm intimacy that still lingers from Quinn’s touch. He opens the passenger door for you, his eyes never leaving you as you slide into the seat. He closes the door softly, circling around to the driver's side.

Once he’s settled in and starts the car, his hand immediately finds yours, fingers interlocking as he gives you a quick, admiring glance. You feel his eyes linger, that same look of reverence and wonder as he takes in the sight of you beside him.

“Eyes on the road, Mr. Romantic,” you tease gently, squeezing his hand.

He laughs, but there’s a slight flush on his cheeks. “It’s a little hard to focus when you look like that,” he admits. “That dress was practically designed to distract me.”

You shake your head, though you can’t deny how his words send a thrill through you. He’s still sneaking glances, unable to help himself, his fingers gently tracing circles on the back of your hand as he drives.

As you arrive at Riley’s, you’re greeted with the soft glow of candlelight spilling from the windows, the gentle hum of jazz drifting into the night air. The restaurant is elegant in a timeless way, with dim lighting and warm wooden accents that create an intimate, welcoming atmosphere. Quinn helps you out of the car, his hand finding the small of your back as he guides you through the grand entrance, where the maître d’ greets you with a polite nod.

“Right this way, Mr. Hughes,” she says with a warm smile, as though she too knows how special this night is. You’re led to a private corner booth tucked away from the rest of the tables. A single candle rests in the center, casting a warm glow across the table.

Quinn pulls your chair out for you, his hand grazing your shoulder as you sit. His gaze never leaves yours as he settles across from you, his expression one of barely contained awe. “I wasn’t exaggerating before,” he says softly, leaning in. “You look absolutely breathtaking.”

You feel your cheeks heat under his intense gaze, and you find yourself smiling, eyes twinkling as you return the compliment. “And you look incredible too, Quinn. That suit… I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look so good.”

A waiter approaches, and Quinn orders a bottle of wine, one you remember J.T. Miller suggesting the two of you try if you’re willing to shell out a bit of money on a bottle. As the bottle arrives and the wine is poured, Quinn raises his glass to you, his eyes catching the candlelight.

“To you,” he murmurs, his voice low and warm.

“To us,” you correct. You clink glasses, each sip bringing a pleasant buzz that only heightens the already electrifying atmosphere.

For a while, your conversation is playful and light. You talk about little things — reminiscing over memories that make you laugh, filling in each other on anecdotes that got lost in your busy lives. Quinn leans in, his attention unwavering, absorbing every word with a soft, amused grin. Every facet of him is distracting to you - the way his fingers play with the stem of his wine glass, how he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth when he listens so intently to you telling a story, and the unmissable gleam in his eye when he looks at you.

You each glance half-heartedly at the menu, but quickly abandon it, unable to tear your focus away from each other. The conversation flows with a surprising ease, touching on topics deep and trivial. He confides how strange it felt to find the perfect suit, mentioning how he asked Jack if it was too much. You smile, knowing how important tonight must be for him to fuss over something like that.

“I can't tell you how good it feels to finally be here with you. It’s been a rough couple of weeks.” His expression shifts, his normally relaxed face showing traces of the stress that he’s been carrying.

“I know,” you say, reaching across the table to place your hand over his. “It feels like every time we tried to plan something, something would get in the way. Between your games, my projects…”

He lets out a long breath and gives a slight nod. “Yeah, it’s just been so much with the season, and all I’ve wanted is a night like this. Just you and me.” His eyes soften, and you feel his hand give yours a soft squeeze, grounding both of you at this moment. “Games have been intense lately. And I love it, but… I miss you,” he confesses, his voice almost whispering.

Your heart swells at his honesty. You can see the weariness in him, but there's also a kind of vulnerable tenderness in the way he’s looking at you now. “I miss you, too. But I’m really proud of you, Quinn. I see how much you put into it.”

He smiles, his gaze dropping to your lips for a moment before flicking back up to your eyes, his expression soft yet intent. “That means a lot to me, more than you know.” He leans in just slightly, a private, mischievous grin slipping onto his face. “But honestly, right now? All I want is to be with you. Just us.”

“Well,” you reply, leaning closer to Quinn. “Here we are. Just the two of us.”

His thumb traces slow, deliberate circles on your wrist, sending sparks up your arm. “Yeah,” he murmurs, his voice low and earnest. “Exactly where I want to be.” His eyes drop to the faint glow of the candlelight on your face, and he seems to lose himself in the view.

But the tender moment is interrupted as the waiter returns to take your orders. Reluctantly, Quinn tears his gaze from you, giving his order in a tone that is a bit rushed. You can’t help but smile at his eagerness as you place your own order, stealing glances at him. The waiter leaves, and a comfortable silence settles over you both, the soft jazz music a fitting backdrop to the intimacy between you.

Quinn leans forward, elbows on the table, his fingers interlaced as he studies you again. “I know we’ve been waiting for a night out for forever but…” His voice dips into a quiet murmur, like he’s sharing a secret, “If you told me we could just go home right now, I wouldn’t even blink.”

You laugh, shaking your head slightly, but there’s a warm blush in your cheeks at his words. “Quinn Hughes, you’re telling me you’re willing to give up the table that you pulled some serious strings to get, all because you don’t know if you can keep it in your pants?”

“Yes, exactly that,” he says without missing a beat, his expression growing serious. “Do you know how hard it is to just sit here with you in that dress and keep my hands to myself?”

The boldness in his voice takes you by surprise, and it sends a thrill through you. His words are a reminder of the magnetic pull between you, one that hasn’t faded since the beginning of your relationship. A playful smirk tugs at the corner of your lips. “You know,” you say, voice barely above a whisper, “I’d almost believe you didn’t want this night as much as I did.”

Quinn reaches across the table, capturing your hand in his as his thumb glides over your skin, the touch featherlight yet stirring. “Trust me,” he murmurs, voice thick with sincerity, “I want tonight. Every part of it. But right now, it’s taking everything I have not to pull you out of here and make you mine before our food gets here.”

Your breath catches at the intensity in his voice, the raw honesty in his words unraveling you. The ambiance of the restaurant fades into the background; it’s as if the two of you are in a world of your own, insulated by shared desire and the gravity of this long-awaited moment.

You lean forward, your eyes locked onto his with equal fervor. “I guess we could always… take the food to go,” you whisper, testing the waters.

A glimmer of excitement flashes in his gaze. “Are you serious?” he asks, barely able to keep his voice steady, as though the thought alone is almost too good to believe.

Your fingers trace slow patterns over the top of his hand. “Quinn, this night is already perfect… you went above and beyond to make it perfect. But, truth be told, we could’ve just ordered Chinese food and I would have been just as happy. I just want to be with you”

Quinn signals for the waitress, quickly requesting the check and your ordered meals in boxes with a smoothness that belies the fire simmering beneath his calm exterior. He leans over and gives her a charming but hurried excuse about needing to leave for a family matter, handing over his card before she can even respond. The minutes it takes to process feel like an eternity, but Quinn’s hand rests over yours, grounding you in the electric silence shared between you.

Finally, the waitress returns, and he leaves a generous tip before helping you to your feet. You weave through the restaurant together, stealing glances and half-hidden smiles, every step charged with anticipation.

Outside, the city air hits cool and refreshing, but the chill is quickly forgotten as Quinn’s hand finds its familiar place on your thigh once you’re seated in the car. His fingers trail subtle, teasing patterns that have your pulse racing, yet he maintains a sense of composure, his gaze focused forward as he drives the short distance back to your place. You both sense the unspoken thrill of getting back as quickly as possible, yet his hand remains on you, tethering you to the rising tension.

When he finally pulls into the driveway, neither of you wastes a moment. The world outside becomes a blur as you make your way up the steps to the front door, his lips already brushing against your neck as you struggle with the key. By the time you stumble through the door, his mouth finds yours, and the soft click of the door closing behind you is drowned out by the rush of your heartbeat.

[reiderwriter]

Flirting with the FBI

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Word count: 7.1k

Request: Hiiii!! This is my first time requesting anything on this app, but Spencer reid has me in a chokehold. So, I was thinking that the reader is the unsub, and she's like this very good hacker who keeps teasing the fbi cause she's bored or something so she keeps sending hints about who she is or where she is but they keep getting nothing on her. And all of this just keeps getting on Spencer's nerves. And so when Spencer finds her, she keeps teasing him and acting like a brat so he "disciplines" her and takes her roughly and maybe a bit of spanking???

Warnings: a lot tbh - mentions of case details, mentions of domestic violence and police brutality, reader is a possible target of a serial killer, bad tech skills from the writer who really couldn't be bothered to do anymore research than the actual CM writing team, rough Dom Spencer, brat reader, sexual innuendo, semi-public sexual play, spanking, dirty talk (good girl, brat etc.) fingering, raw sex/creampie, aftercare, slight dacryphilia (crying kink) and bimbofication.

A/N: My last fic was a heartwarming family fic, and now I'm back to being depraved. Apologies to anyone here for cute fluff 😭

Masterlist

You always thought hacking the FBI mainframe would be hard, but it's one of the easiest things you've done all week.

If they were going to sit around doing nothing while a serial killer ran around in their own backyard, then obviously, they needed a helping hand. Or a helping poem or two.

Getting into their security camera feed was just an added bonus.

You grabbed your bowl of popcorn and settled into your desk chair, clicking open the window to find which room exactly they would gather in to freak out together.

You made sure to get their attention, blacking out all the computers in the office as they ran to a backroom where a very distraught looking blonde woman was sat. She was evidently the go-to tech support of about six agents who quickly ran to her room to figure out what the issue was. It was show time.

“There once was a serial killer,

Who ate boys and girl both for his dinner,

He cut, diced and slashed,

Left the feds quite abashed,

So I leave this message to be clearer”

The poem scrolled onto their screen on a loop, flashing in and out quickly before you let the computer systems relax again.

You thought they'd panic, scramble for a pen or paper or something, but none of the agents moved until the flashing was over.

You watched curiously as an older man took charge of the scene, likely directing the woman at the desk to figure out who you were, where you lived, and what your social security number was. She got to work quickly, and he moved on to the other agents.

None of them had written the poem down. None had even taken a picture, but one man started talking, and for a while, all eyes and attention in the room were focused solely on him. His hands moved as his mouth did, as if he were casting a spell over the room as he spoke. Even more intriguing was the fact that he rarely seemed to make eye contact with any of them as he spoke. He wasn't conversing or giving directions. He was simply talking.

And you really wanted to listen in.

The younger man began to walk and you watched him quickly pace over to a whiteboard, switching from one feed to another as he made his way there, and pick up a pen before notating the poem perfectly.

Whoever this man was, he was making you feel more and more excited about the game of cat and mouse you had begun with the FBI. You weren't entirely sure if he was to be the cat or the mouse, though.

A few days later, they'd seemingly lost the motivation to work, so you again did their job for them.

With another accompanying limerick to help them along, of course.

“There once was a bullpen full of agents,

Who thought they were very surveillant,

But a simply code crack,

And there system did hack,

A young girl who lived quite adjacent.”

This time, you let the words linger on the screen longer, as you slipped your information into their files, leaving more bread crumbs they could follow to the real villain.

The Agent - Doctor, you had since learned - took up his pen once again and scribbled your first poem next to your most recent.

Doctor Spencer Reid. An IQ of 187, three PhDs and however many Bachelor's Degrees, a member of the Behavioural Analysis Unit, and, as you could somehow tell from the grainy security footage, incredibly attractive man.

He was calm, again talking with his hands as he notated, again drawing the rooms attention like he was the sun and everything needed to orbit him to sustain life. You wondered what it would be like to fluster him.

Typing something out quickly, you broke back into the FBI system. It was risky doing it again so soon again, knowing that their tech analyst was already actively hunting you down, cyber-wise. But you couldn't resist.

“The tall, dark and handsome employee,

How I do wish that he could enjoy me,

I would gladly submit,

we match wit for wit,

But he's trying his best to arrest me.”

The BAU team stood silent on the camera before the two women on the team burst into rambunctious laughter. The camera feed was archaic, black and white, and grainy to boot, but even you couldn't miss the red stain against Doctor Spencer Reid's cheeks. A bonus was the other gentlemen subtly posturing, trying to figure out exactly which of them was “tall, dark, and handsome.”

The payoff for that poem was so great that over the course of the next few days, you kept serenading him with love poems among your quick hints about the actual crime being committed.

You'd first suspected the man of being dangerous when you'd seen the state of his wife. 19 domestic disturbance calls in two months, 0 arrests, and 1 very cushy job as a police detective. You'd done some simple computer programming for your local precinct, inputting data from cases into an algorithm that helped track everything easier, so you'd been intimate with cases that he'd handled.

A pattern had emerged, a series of murders of “undesirables,” people the city didn't care about when alive and certainly didn't have the resources to allocate to after their deaths. Prostitutes, the homeless, and runaway foster kids. All missing or dead, all cases handled by the same officer. The officer that lived next door to you and was one beer away from beating his wife into submission 5 days a week.

After your third 911 call, you'd been notified of your contract termination with the precinct. After the tenth, you noticed parole cars driving by every hour.

By call number 19, you were sure it was a miracle he hadn't tried to have you arrested.

So you turned back to the FBI to see what they could do about a man who treated his wife, and basically everyone else, like scum of the earth.

“Please don't get sidetracked by my hacking,

I'm a good girl, your team I am backing,

the killer, you see,

Is right now hunting me,

You're the ones who can do better tracking.”

You watched the tension snap back into place in the office as, for the first time, Spencer Reid was silent at your message. They all got back to work quickly, going over the files you'd dropped in their servers.

That night, Spencer Reid stayed in the office late, reading through piles and piles of files and looking for the connection he needed. You watched in pity, feeling almost guilty that you'd placed this burden on him instead of just approaching them honestly. But you'd called the police before, and it hadn't worked, so getting attention anyway you could was the only way to go.

You watched for so long that you began noticing his small habits. Each time you sensed frustration, he would run a hand through his hair and tug it slightly. When he found something, he leaned in closer to the page, as if his proximity to the words would make them clearer. Finally, he stood and began clearing his files. But you weren't quite ready to sign off yet, the shouting already beginning in the apartment next to yours, so you quickly typed out the first thing that came to mind to get him to stay.

“There once was a doctor called Reid,

Who I simply and truly just need,

I would lie on my back,

And then let him attack,

Any inch of my body with his seed.”

He fumbled the files in his haste to remove your words from his screen, from every screen now in the building, face awash with embarrassment as he looked around for some sign that no one witnessed your words.

Luck was not to be had as the tech analyst - Penelope Garcia - came shooting out of her office to join him in the near empty bullpen, and the older team leader - Aaron Hotchner - also looked out over the bannister from his office as they bore witness to your seduction.

You were driving Spencer Reid crazy.

He'd spent the last two weeks tracking down a serial killer who may or may not exist based on the word of a set of limericks delivered to the BAU through illegal means that had begun unabashedly flirting with him.

This latest limerick was his last straw.

“The cameras are how I can see you,

I do find myself enjoying the view,

His hair is so fine,

I wish he was mine,

The agent with more PhDs than two.”

“Another score, pretty boy, it was about time someone noticed your good looks instead of your brain for once.” Morgan patted him on the shoulder, barely containing his glee and laughter.

“She's watching us through security feed, and that's all you have to say?” he grumbled, writing out this limerick again, the words to the others burned into his brain. “She's playing with me.”

“It sure sounds like she'd enjoy doing just that,” Emily laughed from her desk, “but I think she might be right, Spencer. Every case file she's given us has suspicious activity on it. They're all unsolved, but the victims aren't linked.”

“He's crossing race and gender boundaries, but he's hitting undesirables.”

They had a case because of you. It didn't mean he wouldn't enjoy handcuffing you and putting you in a cell once this was all finished.

“WE'VE GOT ANOTHER ONE,” Penelope shouted from her office, to no avail. If it was at one computer, it was on all of them.

“The agents grew closer by day,

As the killer wanted to escape,

He paced across the floor,

As I watched by his door,

Getting closer than the agents could say.”

He paused then for a second, thinking through each of the limericks in turn and the panic began.

“Closer than… Emily, the officer that took in all of the cases, what was his name?”

“Officer Falstaff, why?”

“I think he might be our killer. And I think he knows she's on to him, or if he doesn't, he will soon.” He stood suddenly, grabbing a file and sprinting to Penelope’s office, Emily and Morgan trailing close behind.

“Spencer, wait-”

“No time. If we want them both alive, we have to move now.”

Throwing the door to Penelope’s room open, he didn't even bother with niceties.

“Can you get her a message?” He demanded, panting from the short run.

“A wha-? Spencer, what are you talking about?”

“Can you send the hacker a message? Or leave her one so she can find it when she comes?”

Penelope swivelled around in her chair once again, doing who-knows-what to answer his question.

“There's no telling what she actually sees in our servers, Spencer, we didn't see any breach in classified files, the only thing she's done is read your personal file and drop us hints.”

His hands closed into fists as he nodded along. “So no?”

“No, Spencer, I'm sorry. Why? Are you starting to grow fond of our little helper.”

“She's not our little helper. She's a criminal. And she'll be dead soon if I don't confirm with her that we have the right guy - excuse me.”

The anger was washing over him now, as he left the room to get some air, getting only as far as the corridor before slamming an open palm into the wall and resting his forehead against it for a moment, just thinking.

The stress of the case was almost too much for him as he turned around and rested his back against the wall, sliding down it until he was sat on the floor. He may have despised you at that moment, but he didn't want you to get yourself killed.

Something nagged him, still, some stress or anger that hadn't yet surfaced, or some case fact he was missing. A glint at the corner of his eye had him looking up to the camera currently trained directly on him.

Computers are useless, he thought to himself, when you can send a letter.

The next time you sat down at your desk, you weren't exactly shocked to see an up close and personal shot of Aaron Hotchner - they'd turned your security stream into a one way facetime and you were sat directly opposite the big boss himself in an interrogation room.

“Checkmate, I guess,” you said, waiting for the man to move.

A signal from behind the camera let him know you were online and watching. He picked up a pen and paper and scribbled down something before holding the note out to you once more.

The name and location of the bastard next door. They'd done it, and now you simply had to drop your evidence, shut down your computer, and wait for the sirens to sound.

You felt slightly sad typing out your last message, knowing that you had no more reason to stay in touch with the team now. Still, you were only human and couldn't resist the chance to say something more.

“Aaron Hotchner and his clever team,

Working with you has been like a dream,

When Reid comes it is wet,

And my mind is all set,

Oh, I do wish that he'd make me cream.”

The camera turned seconds after your message was sent, and there he was, reading intently, frow creased in annoyance as he tried to remain calm. He, too, picked up a pen and paper.

“I have questions,” the paper said when he turned it around. Holding it up for a few seconds before returning his pen to paper. You typed out a message before he could finish dictating his, though.

“When you find me there's lots for me to say,

I can't help simply feeling this way,

Your profile I read,

Can't believe you're a Fed,

I yearn for you all night and day.”

Somehow, the lines between his brow deepened as he quickly scribbled out another message. This one wasn't a question, though. It was simply two words.

He'd written your name on that paper. He'd found you.

You weren't sure if the tingle that ran up your spine was fear or anticipation. One one hand, you'd likely committed multiple felonies in the pursuit of justice, and the SWAT team about to pick up the killer was going to knock for you, too. On the other hand, it was pretty much a given that you would be seeing Spencer Reid in person in the next few hours.

“The Doctor had finally cracked it,

The only identity that could fit,

The pretty young thing,

Who'd been flirting with him,

And was thinking of sitting on his…”

You sent a second message along with the first.

“I couldn't make this one rhyme, Doc. Come and get me.”

The sound of the FBI outside your neighbour's door had you stepping away from the computer finally. It was time to get ready to see him. You stepped out of your robe and into the shower as you waited to be collected and hauled into a police vehicle.

xxx

So far, you were a bit disappointed by the look of the BAU offices. It was smaller than it appeared on the CCTV, and you hadn't exactly given the tour. Unless the whole tour was the wall from the elevators, through the bullpen and straight to interrogation room one. You were also slightly embarrassed that you had yet to be greeted by any of your favourite characters yet. The lead swat officer had led you in some desk agents dropping by to have you fill out some simple documents - waiving your rights and all that. You'd seen not even a single member of the BAU since dropping in two hours ago, but you felt his eyes on you.

You faced the mirror, trying your best to stare straight through it and into the man beyond.

Spencer Reid was there. He had to be. He was too curious to be anywhere else. You smiled at him through the mirror and waited.

You were right, of course. Spencer stood on the opposite side of the one-way window and watched you look for him in every inch of the glass. He watched you squirm when you couldn't find anything, watched you pick at your nails as he made you wait.

He watched you cross and uncross your legs, the short skirt you'd slipped into just before you left providing just enough mystery to catch his eye and his breath.

He was annoyed, frustrated, a little bit impressed, anxious, and - to his peril - turned on.

“Spencer,” Hotch said, breaking the man's concentration. “We can't keep her that much longer. Go in and say something, or I'll cut her loose.”

Reluctantly, he pulled his eyes away and stepped out of the waiting room before letting himself into yours.

“Miss Y/N, my name is Doctor Spencer Reid, I'm a profiler working with the Behavioural An-”

“You're joking, right?” You asked, eyes lighting up, spine straightening as you looked up at the man. “I know who you are, Doc.”

“Please call me Doctor Reid,” he asked, setting down a file on the table and looking over the desk at you.

“Oh, I don't even get your first name.” You lifted your leg and ran it along the side of his until he moved his chair back, just out of reach. You pouted as he began reading through documents, asking you to confirm exactly which technical breaches you were responsible for.

“And the breach at 1:27pm on Thursday 5th-”

“Yes, that was me, too. They were all me, Doc, is that all? Are we finished now?”

“I don't know, are we finished? Can I leave?”

“No,” you shouted, just as he stood up to gather his things. “No, don't go. I want to talk to you.”

He sat back down, finally looking at you instead of words on a page.

“Do you enjoy attention, Miss Y/N?” He asked, voice cold but gaze burning like fire into your skin.

“As much as anyone does.”

“Do you enjoy my attention?” The words hung between you for a few minutes as you watched him carefully, searching for the right answer.

“What do you think, Doc?”

“Doctor Spencer Reid,” he repeated reflexively.

“I know your name,” you smiled, and he finally looked away, breaking contact to regroup for a second.

“We have reason to believe you used your backdoor into our system to access my personal file, is that correct?” It may have been asked as a question, but Spencer Reid already knew the answer.

“Yes, I did.”

“Why?”

You laughed at the simple question, sure that your behaviour until this point was evidence enough to answer it.

“Why? Because you're attractive and your smart and-”

“Why haven't you used the content of the files as leverage? I've been digging at you for the last half hour, and you have plenty of ammunition to throw back at me, yet you haven't. Why?”

For the first time in a while, you were speechless.

“Oh. Wow. Should I have said something? Would you have felt more comfortable if I were a horrible person using your background to make you feel vulnerable?”

“Why, Y/N?”

You sighed and looked back up at him.

“I'm interested in you. That's it. Honestly, there is nothing in your file more interesting than how you look running your hands through your hair.”

His jaw clenched and unclenched before he let out a sigh.

“So you're a compulsive liar.” He said it so finitely it was like a kick in the teeth.

“Or maybe you're just insecure. I can help with that.”

He shot you another warning look as a grin spread over your lips. Yes, it was very fun to mess with Spencer Reid.

“FBI Agents aren't allowed to sleep with suspects.”

“You want to sleep with me?”

His eyes went wide as he realized his mistake, mouth opening and closing as he tossed another annoyed look in your direction.

The door to the interrogation room opened, and Reid quickly bolted out of his seat as Aaron Hotchner entered. The two men shared a nod before the younger man left the room entirely.

“Such a shame, I thought we were really getting somewhere.”

To your surprise, Hotchner’s lips curled up in a laugh as he sat down, straightening his suit.

“Miss Y/N, we've reviewed the information you've given us and taken into account your motives, and the FBI has decided not to prosecute you for your actions.”

You sat for a minute, Hotch doing the same, the both of you caught waiting for each other to say something or continue.

“But?” You prodded, knowing there was more left to say.

“But, we'd ask for your cooperation on cases in the future that require technological man-power. In a consultancy role, of course. You wouldn't be given a badge or a gun or any clearance, and you'd need to be with an agent at all times.”

You tapped your fingers against the desk, trying to figure out if this deal was beneficial or not.

“I'll do it if I can pick the Agent.”

Now, the man was fully smiling at you or giving you what you assumed passed for a smile in his books.

“We had recommended Doctor Reid for the role. Of course, if you're more comfortable with another agent, you can-”

“Doctor Reid is perfect, thank you.”

The man nodded and stood, and you stood with him as he led you quietly out of the room.

A flustered Spencer Reid exited the adjoining room, hurrying to catch Hotch before he really signed his life away to you.

“Hotch, what is this?” He demanded, stopping the man in his tracks. They both paused, turning around and moved a few feet awaywfrom.you whispering out their argument.

You couldn't catch most of it, but you did happen to catch the phrases “man-eater,” “I'm not good with people,” and “Spencer, this will be good for you.” Victory in the end went to Hotch, who promptly turned on his heel and kept walking down the hall.

“I work here now,” you said, grinning up at Spencer.

“No, you don't.”

“According to your boss, I do. And you're my babysitter.”

“You're a criminal. You hacked into the FBI database to leave ominous clues to multiple murders.”

“If you call those ominous clues, I'm curious how people usually flirt with you.”

“They don't. Why…why are we having this conversation?”

He stormed off ahead of you, and you quickened your pace to catch up to him, following him down a familiar hallway to what was obviously tech central at the BAU.

“Spencer, seriously? You're walking around looking like that, and no one hits on you?”

He stopped abruptly, and you ran into his back before he turned around to scowl at you again.

“Can we keep this serious, please?”

“I'm very serious about flirting with you, and I'm stumped why more people aren't.”

“Okay, let's go somewhere and talk,” his hand landed on your waist, readying his grip to forcibly move you if need be.

“I thought that's what we were doing.” Instead of allowing him to move you, you leaned into his touch, stepping closer and raising a hand to his chest, as his head dipped to maintain eye contact.

“No, this isn't talking, this is some weird foreplay I've never heard of, and I'd like you to leave my office if you're going to continue,” the woman sat at the desk exclaimed, horror and amusement fighting a battle for her facial expressions. “I like to keep my office a no trauma zone, so please take a walk to the nearest bed or storage closet or car and you can shove your tongues down each other's throats in peace and out of my sight, please and thank you.”

Spencer tried to step away, but a hand on his tie kept him close and kept his eyes on you. You poked your head out around him and smiled at the other woman.

“Sorry to disturb you. I'm Y/N. Based on the tech, I assume we will be working with each other soon.”

“Oh my gosh, you were, like, my number one most hated person last week. Penelope Garcia, tech analyst.”

“I'm sorry about that. If it makes it any better, it was really hard to get past some of your firewalls. And I couldn't even touch the classified files.”

“Apology accepted, on the condition that you lead young Reid out of my office right now before he explodes.”

You grinned and grabbed the man's hand, sending Penelope a quick goodbye as you pulled him out of the room.

He stumbled behind you for a few moments before catching up and pulling you in a different direction, keeping your hands intertwined as he bee-lined for the elevators and pushed the button to go down.

It arrived, and he pulled you in, not releasing your grip until the doors were fully closed and you were alone.

“Getting me all alone, Doc? What do you have in mind?”

“I'm driving you home.”

“My apartment is a crime scene, and I have no family in the city.”

“What about friends?”

“I've been stalked by a homicidal police officer for the last month and barricaded myself into an apartment. Do you think I have friends?”

His gaze was somewhat softer as he looked at you again. You saw the math happening in his head as he tried to figure out what to do with you. You also saw his brain short circuiting when you wrapped yourself around his arm.

“We're friends now, Doc. Isn't that right?”

“What?”

“We're friends,” you repeated again, tone becoming a little defensive in a pout.

“We are not friends, Y/N. We've known each other for less than 6 hours, and we haven't engaged in any friendly conversation.”

“We've known each other for two weeks, and I've been more than friendly enough for the both of us.”

The elevator stopped, and the doors opened. Gesturing for you to go first, Spencer hurried you out of the elevator and into the parking garage.

“Trust me, Spencer, deep down, part of you really wants to be friends with me,” you said poking his chest with a finger. You couldn't resist flattening your hand against his surprisingly hard chest and letting the hand drop slightly.

“And an ever deeper down part of you doesn't want to be friends at all,” you smiled at him.

He caught your wrist before it could reach his belt buckle, your unconscious finish line, spinning you around and dragging you to his car.

The biting cold of metal cutting into your wrists was the first indication that maybe Spencer Reid wasn't as easy to mess with as you'd hoped. He closed the handcuffs around your wrists and handed you into the car as you gaped at him.

“Spencer!”

“Doctor Spencer Reid.”

“I’m not a criminal, Spencer, let me go.”

“I'll let you go when you prove to me you can behave.”

You pouted as he strapped you into the car and closed the door, walking around to the passenger side before letting himself in.

“What's next? Are you going to gag me?” You scoffed as he turned over the engine and began backing out of the parking lot.

“No. I think you'd enjoy that too much.”

The drive to Spencer's apartment was long and quiet as you sat pouting in the passenger seat. Every few seconds, you twisted and moved your arms, fidgeting left and right so he could see how much the restraints bothered you. Luckily, he'd handcuffed your hands in front of your body, so you still sat somewhat comfortably, but you didn't want him to know that.

He pulled up to the building and turned off the engine, pulling out his keys.

“Let's go,” he said, not even sparing you a look as he climbed out.

“Spencer, I'm handcuffed. How do I even get out?”

“You'll figure it out. You're a smart girl, right?”

He closed his door and began walking, and you quickly fumbled your way out.

“Spencer… Spencer, your neighbours are going to ask questions about you bringing a handcuffed girl into your apartment!” You whispered at him as you paced behind him, somehow running to catch up with his mere walk.

“I don't have neighbours like you, Y/N. They won't notice a thing.”

“Right, okay. And when you murder a dozen people over a six month period, they won't hack the federal government.” You rolled your eyes as he unlocked the door, taking your arm and finally handing you into the apartment.

It was dark and cold, and you shivered, feeling his body pushed in right behind yours, closing the door before he felt around for the light switch.

When the lights turned on, you blinked, adjusting to the light again as he walked you further into the apartment, hands on your hips as you slowly stumbled forward.

“Can you take the handcuffs off now?” You asked, looking over your shoulder at him.

“And let you touch my things? No.”

You shook off his hands and walked further into the room.

“You know I can still mess with your stuff with my hands tied up like this,” you said, walking to the nearest bookshelf.

“Whoops, look at that,” you said, pulling a book off the shelf and letting it fall to the floor between you with a thud.

“Y/N!” He exclaimed, voice pitched up in exasperation.

“Oh, this stack of books on the ground looks well organized. Oopsie!” You acted out tripping over the books, sending them flying in different directions.

“One more time, Y/N, mess with my stuff one more time-”

You didn't hear the words as you pulled yet another book off his shelf and let it tumble to the ground.

He was on you in seconds, lifting your wrists and pinning them to the top shelf, pressing his body against yours as he stretched you out.

You gasped at both the sudden contact and the tight grip he now had on your hands.

“Tell me, do you actually want to be in control, or do you just think you should want to be in control?”

“What's the difference?”

“The difference is how much you enjoy it. I think you're only being a brat to get a rise out of me. You're doing this because there's no one else in your life that will give you exactly what you crave."

"And what would that be?"

"Attention," he whispered into your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Great, thanks for the therapy. Are you going to show me how much I can enjoy relinquishing control now?”

“Brat,” he spat at you.

“Fed,” you spat back.

“You have a problem with law enforcement?” He asked, his breath hitting your ear as you tried not to shiver again at his touch.

“My neighbour was a serial killer whose day job was police brutality," you said, as if the answer was obvious, but Spencer still stared, waiting for true confirmation.

“Yes I have a problem with law enforcement. What, are you going to spank me?”

His eyes lit up, and you suddenly wondered if you'd made a mistake.

“You'd like that, wouldn't you?”

“N-No.” You stuttered, but he'd already begun moving you over to his couch.

“It was a joke. Spencer, it was a joke, don't-”

You underestimated his strength as he flipped you around and guided you down over his lap. Keeping your hips raised, he used one hand to hold you down while the other pushed up your tight skirt.

“S-Spencer, I really don't think-”

“Then don't think,” he said, bringing his hand down hard on your ass as you cried out in shock and pain.

“Stop thinking. You think too much, let me do it for you.”

With each hit, your shock grew fuzzy, melting into pleasure as you felt wetness pooling between your thighs.

The doctor you thought would be an easy target was not sadistically returning every teasing word back to you with his hands, letting bruises blossom all over your ass as he delivered painfully arousing strikes.

His hand stopped and he rubbed your ass as you twitched at the gentleness, panties sticking to the folds of your cunt as you absent mindedly pushed up into his touch.

“See, now you're listening,” he said, fingers trailing down to touch you over the sopping undergarments.

With two quick fingers, the crotch of your panties peeled away from your skin and he was plunged deep inside you, fingers pressing in as his thumb found its way to your clit.

“Fuck, Spencer-”

“Doctor Reid. You can use my full title now or you don't get to cum.”

“D-Doctor Reid, please!” His thumb rubbed slowly over your clit bit his fingers didn't move as you shuddered and contracted around them.

“Please what?” He asked, voice light as if he wasn't two knuckles deep in you already.

“Please make me cum, Doctor Reid!”

“Good manners,” he said as he finally began pumping his digits in and out of you, spreading your legs wider as you clawed your hands into his couch cushions to ground yourself in the moment. His spare hands left your wrists, and you felt them again, delivering small, almost cute hits to your ass as you twitched around his fingers, shying away from the painful contact.

“That's it, Y/N, let yourself relax,” he whispered, shifting his weight underneath you as you became aware of the tent in his pants.

Your brain was jello as you tried to bounce back on his fingers, chasing your oncoming orgasm.

“Look at you, trying to cum on my hands. You're just an attention-seeking slut, right?”

His fingers continued ppimg as your tongue hung loosely in your mouth.

“Answer me, or I'll leave you here high and dry, Y/N. Tell me you're an attention seeking slut that's been fingering yourself to the thought of this for weeks.”

“I-I'm an a-atten…tion seeking s-slut,” you stifled a moan and bit back tears as he pressed another finger inside of you. “Spencer I can't I need to cum,” you cried, tears spilling down your cheeks pathetically.

“Say it.”

“I'm an attention seeking s-slut that's been th-thinking about this-”

“Fingering yourself,” he corrected.

“Fingering myself to the thought of this for w-weeks,” you cried, sniffing now as your thighs shook in anticipation.

“What a nasty little slut,” he said as you finally came, your cum running down his fingers as he kept his hands moving.

Your tears were falling freely now as you bit back little sobs and chokes of emotions, the pleasure from the orgasm almost too much to handle.

Underneath you, Spencer shifted, freeing himself from his position and laying you fully down on the sofa as your legs still shook.

“There once was a doctor called Reid,” he said, unzipping his pants as he took up his place behind you.

They were your words, and your body signalled warnings everywhere as his hands pulled your hips up once more, pulling your knees up too to bend under you, laying you face down ass up.

“Who I simply and truly just need.”

He pulled the panties down to the crook of your knees before leaning down over you so he could deliver the next few lines as whispers into your ear.

“I would lie on my back, And then let him attack, Any inch of my body with his seed.”

A weak moan escaped your lips as he sank his cock inside of you, lips still pressed against your ears.

“I don't want you on your back, though. I much prefer you like this.”

His cock slid out of you and returned with a speed and strength that had your eyes rolling back in your head.

He was thick, maybe a little longer than average, and he filled you perfectly using your cum as lubricant.

“Such a good listener, now, Y/N. I like you like this,” he said with a moan, thrusting hard and deep inside of you.

You didn't talk. You could only drool and moan into his couch as he emptied your brain one thrust at a time.

You didn't think about how he wasn't wearing a condom. You didn't think about how he'd spat your words back at you, ready to fill you with his seed. You just sat in a pool of your own pleasure and let Spencer Reid use your body as you'd been begging him to for weeks.

He raised your hips and gave one last thrust, stilling there for a second as he filled your empty body and mind with his cum and his entire being.

If you weren't obsessed with Doctor Spencer Reid before this, you certainly were now.

He pulled out of you quickly, wiping his cock on your skirt before hurrying off to the bathroom to clean up.

Your brain was still absent when he returned, cleaning you off and finally removing the handcuffs. He removed your clothes, replacing them with his spares as he threw the soiled ones into the wash.

When you regained your wits or what was left of them, you were laid out in his bed, wrapped in a blanket and stuffed into a sweater and sweats, fully covered from head to toe. Spencer was picking up his keys and trying his shoelaces.

“Where are you going?’ You asked sleepily, stumbling to the doorway. Your legs were still shaky, and your movement was already limited. You knew that tomorrow, the use of your limbs would be nonexistent.

“Back to the office. Now that you're not around, maybe I'll be able to get some actual work done.”

“Spencer,” you said, forcing him to turn around to look back at you.

Before he could say anything else, you pressed your lips to his, hot and needy, wrapping your arms around his neck as he kissed back, slipping his tongue into your mouth and pressed you into the wall next to the door.

When you both pulled away for breath, you detangled your limbs, smoothing out his shirt and readjusting his tie.

He looked down at you, waiting for you to say something else as you met his gaze, grinning at him.

“I look forward to working with you, Doctor Reid.”

[littlelamy]

PLEASEE dad Rafe where the reader is like a Pilates mom trophy wife, and she and Rafe have kids and UGHHHHHHHH traditional rich family the kind Rafe would have.

⭐️i love making little moodboards for this theme so disregard if you dont like it, but i hope you enjoy! ⭐️

rafe pulls up in the blacked-out suv, the engine a low, contented hum as he steps out, shoulders squared, exuding that effortless confidence that still sends a spark through you. the sun dips lower in the sky, casting golden rays over the sprawling lawn as the kids burst out, laughing and calling back to him, backpacks slung carelessly over their shoulders. they race each other toward the house, shouting over who gets the last snack in the pantry, and rafe just shakes his head, watching with that quiet pride that’s become second nature to him.

you’re settled by the pool, lounging on one of the cushioned chairs with your favorite oversized sunglasses perched on your nose, a fresh iced latte in hand. you’re fresh from pilates, dressed in a crisp white athleisure set that rafe has already told you he loves—a little too much, given the look he’s giving you right now. you pull your sunglasses down, meeting his gaze with a smile that’s just for him.

he saunters over, hands sliding into the pockets of his perfectly tailored pants. the sun catches in his hair, bringing out the few strands of blonde that the summer hadn’t quite left behind. there’s a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth, that warm gleam in his eyes, hinting at that wild edge that he still carries, even now. and it’s there, in that look, that you see how completely wrapped up in you he still is.

“hey, stranger,” you murmur, lifting your drink in a silent toast as he drops into the chair next to you, leaning close enough that you can catch his aftershave, something dark and woodsy. you see his gaze flicker over you, taking in every detail like he’s still half-surprised by the life you both built.

“missed you today,” he says, voice low and sweet. you give a playful shrug, pretending not to notice how his hand casually finds yours, warm fingers threading between yours, the way he’s always done.

you shake your head, leaning back and giving a little sigh, mock-serious. “all i did was pilates and a trip to the club, rafe,” you tease. “how’d you survive without me?”

his laugh is quiet, but you catch that glint in his eye. “barely,” he says, thumb tracing gentle circles along the side of your hand, a gesture so natural you barely even notice it anymore. he pauses, looking out at the kids, who are now a blur in the distance, likely digging around for snacks or on their way to the game room. and it’s in that moment—just the two of you with the day slipping into evening—that you feel the absolute certainty he has in this life, in the family you’ve built.

you turn to him, watching as his gaze softens, and there’s something that pulls at your heart, this deep, endless feeling he has for you, even after all these years. you’re the perfect vision of his world, a pilates-mom trophy wife, the gleaming pool and manicured lawn the backdrop to a life that’s both beautiful and grounded, something he never knew he wanted until he had it. and yet, in his gaze, it’s so clear how much he appreciates every inch of it.

“think i’m going to make something special for dinner,” you say, though you both know it’ll be the chef taking care of most of it. but the idea of you, his wife, planning out dinner like this is exactly the sort of scene he loves—a glimpse of something tender and old-fashioned, just for the two of you.

he grins, giving you that lopsided smile. “save some time for me afterward?”

“always,” you reply, resting your head on his shoulder as the sun dips low. it’s not the first time you’ve had this moment, and it won’t be the last—but that’s exactly what makes it so perfect.

he’s quiet for a moment, eyes still tracing the outline of your face before his hand slides around to the back of your neck, pulling you in close for a slow kiss. his lips press into yours with that intensity that still makes your heart race, like he’s savoring every second, every touch.

when he pulls back, his gaze is a shade darker, playful but serious all at once. he lowers his voice. “the kids aren’t here, you know.”

your heart flutters, and you bite back a smile. “they’re just inside,” you murmur, a teasing note in your voice.

“exactly. not here.” his hand drifts down your arm, sending a shiver through you as he smirks, voice dropping lower. “and, by the way… that little package you ordered just came in.” his fingers trace along your wrist, up your arm, igniting little sparks of excitement. “saw it in the bedroom.”

you feign a casual shrug, but the look in his eyes makes it impossible to keep the smile from your face. “oh? did it now?” you ask, feigning innocence. “must have slipped my mind.”

he laughs softly, his thumb brushing across your cheek as his gaze roams over you, lingering in a way that makes you feel like the only woman in the world. “you knew exactly what you were doing,” he murmurs, voice tinged with admiration and something else—something wild. he leans in, his lips just grazing your ear as he whispers, “think you could model it for me later?”

your cheeks warm, and you feel your pulse quicken, unable to hide your grin. “if you think you can keep the kids distracted…”

his smirk widens, a promise in his gaze. “i’ll figure something out,” he says, his voice filled with that familiar mischief. he presses another kiss to your lips, lingering just long enough to leave you breathless, anticipation simmering between you as the sun sinks lower, casting long shadows over the beautiful life you’ve built together.

taglist: @namelesslosers @princessslutt @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @starkeysprincess @sixrosberg @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @kissrotten @rafecameroninterlude @sstargirln

[emchant3d]

modern au, exes to lovers, transfem stevie harrington

Stevie Harrington is not having a good day.

By all accounts, she should be. Robin woke her right on time by pressing a perfectly made brown sugar shaken espresso into her hand. Nancy and Chrissy got to the venue earlier than expected. The hair and makeup people were on schedule. Their boozy charcuterie brunch during their prep time was perfectly served, the mimosas delicious and the food fresh and light enough to put on her nervous stomach. 

Everything’s gone off without a hitch. She looks gorgeous. She’s got her something old, her something new, her something borrowed, and even her something blue. Her hair’s done in a soft blowout, framing her face but out of the way, ready for the combs of her veil to slip into. Her makeup is elegant, not too showy and not too dramatic, neutral and warm and sweet. And her dress. It’s what she always dreamed of, clingy and silky with a dramatic leg slit and a long train, off the shoulders, perfectly white. She’s staring at herself in the mirror knowing that in forty-five minutes, she’s going to hold the world’s most beautiful wedding bouquet and walk down the most perfectly decorated aisle in the quaintest, sweetest church she could find, and she’ll stand across from her fiancé and take his hands and say “I do” and all of her dreams will come true.

So she should be having a good day.

Because it’s her wedding day, and Stevie Harrington is about to become Stefania Hagan.

Maybe that brunch wasn’t so perfect after all, because she thinks she’s about to puke.

“I can’t do this,” she says, but her voice is so soft it’s barely a whisper and the girls don’t even glance at her. “I can’t do this,” she repeats, and Robin - bless her, her favorite person in the world, her soulmate, her other half, her maid of honor - glances up. 

“What’s that, Evie?” she asks, and the others look over at her, and Stevie stands there beneath their gazes and knows if she just says it again, says I can’t do this, don’t make me marry him, get me out of here, all three of them would drag her to an exit and get her the fuck out.

They don’t even like Tommy. Robin actively hates him, actually, and that should have been enough for Stevie to never look at him twice.

But it wasn’t. It wasn’t enough.

She thinks back to a few days ago, drunk in a bar with a white sash wrapped around her torso, a tiara on her head, and mascara running down her face as she desperately sobbed on Robin’s shoulder during her bachelorette party. That little meltdown wasn’t enough. And she thinks back further, to when Tommy proposed - in public, at a fucking baseball game, on the goddamn jumbotron. Dread had settled in her chest at the sight of the ring (huge, gaudy, she hated it on sight) even as she pasted on a smile and said yes. That hadn’t been enough.

But somehow standing here done up head to toe, about to walk down the aisle in her absolute dream wedding - that’s enough. Because everything about today is right. Everything’s in place. Everything’s gorgeous and going to plan and she should be so, so happy - but it’s the wrong man waiting for her at the end of all of it.

She can’t do this. 

She looks up and meets Robin’s eyes and forces a smile. “I said I need to get my veil,” she lies, and she slips into her shoes (red bottoms, a gift from Tommy’s mother, perfectly white and pointed and it’s her dream day, how can she be throwing this away?) and walks into the other room where her garment bag is hanging, and her veil is there with its delicate detail and it’s scalloped edges and it’s all so fucking perfect she’s going to scream, she wants to rip it to pieces and she wants to tear this dress off and she wants to sob, she doesn’t want to do this, she doesn’t want to get married - not to him. Not to Tommy. 

She could ask for help. Robin would have her out of here in five minutes flat, Nancy would craft an excuse to tell everyone, and Chrissy would cause a distraction. But even that’s too long of a wait. Even that’s too much attention, too much suspicion. She needs to move faster than that. She needs out now.

She quickens her pace as she crosses the room, dress dragging along the carpet, and she snags her phone where it’s sitting on the end table next to an overstuffed love seat, and in three long strides she’s out the door and in the hall and the church has been busy and packed all day but somehow, miraculously, there’s no one here.

No one sees Stevie as she gathers up the fabric of her dress in her hands and starts to walk towards the exit. No one sees as her walk speeds to a jog, and then a run, and then she slams out of a side door and she’s on the sidewalk and she’s sprinting, her heels are going to get scuffed by the pavement but she can’t care, she’s running as fast as she can and dodging people on the sidewalk as they turn and gawk at her and she cannot give them a thought, cannot focus on them even a little bit because she has to get away, escape is the only thought on her mind as she gasps for air, her dress is so heavy and it’s not made for running that’s for goddamn sure, and the last few years with Tommy flash through her mind - every time he’s undermined her or given her a backhanded compliment or policed her, told her she wasn’t feminine enough, told her she wasn’t trying hard enough to pass, told her to just keep it all to herself so no one would know she wasn’t cis, wouldn’t embarrass him by making a scene, all the times that come together to a glaringly obvious conclusion that he doesn’t really love her and she kind of hates him a little actually, and obviously she can’t fucking marry him and–

There. 

A beat-up four-door with an Uber sticker in the window. 

That’ll do, she thinks, and she changes course, shoulder-checking a man and not apologizing for it as she makes a beeline for the car. She pops off an acrylic wrenching the door open and tossing herself into the backseat, and she yells “DRIVE!” at the top of her lungs and somehow, through some miracle, they listen, swerving into traffic with a loud curse and a myriad of honking horns and a quaint, sweet little church growing smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror.

She’s gasping for breath, chest heaving, staring out the back window like she’s waiting for someone to follow her - and maybe she is, maybe Tommy is hot on her trail, or maybe Robin is coming to kill her for not including her in her mad dash to freedom and instead jumping in a stranger’s car going God knows where.

“So uh,” a voice says, and she whips around, staring wide-eyed at the brown eyes fixed on her in the mirror, and no, no fucking way– “where to, ma’am?” 

“Um,” she says, and her voice is shaky, cracking a little, she brushes her hair out of her face and stares and– wait.

There’s a beat. The driver’s eyes widen. Recognition flashes over his face at the same time it registers for Stevie. 

“Stevie?” Eddie Munson, her ex-boyfriend of several years, the man she hasn’t spoken to since that fateful night they went their separate ways, is staring at her in shock, not even looking at the road, and the only thing she can think is how he’s just as averse to road safety now as he’d been way back when.

“Eddie,” she croaks out. 

Too many emotions are overwhelming her at once and it feels like the biggest cliché in the world, but honestly, Stevie feels like she’s entitled to some dramatics. It’s her goddamn wedding day, after all.

Her failed wedding day.

Where she just left her fiancé at the altar.

“Oh god,” she manages. Her lower lip wobbles. Her vision blurs.

“Stevie,” Eddie says again, like a warning, and that’s enough to push her over.

She bursts into tears in his backseat.

“Hey hey hey!” he says like she’s a fucking spooked horse or something, which only makes her cry more, ugly sobs that shake her shoulders and drip tear drops onto her dress. “Stevie, honey–”

“Do NOT call me honey right now!” she manages, and he raises a hand in surrender before flipping on a turn signal and finding a parking lot to pull over in. 

“Okay, okay! No comforting pet names, you got it,” he agrees, and he shuts the car off, turning in his seat to look at her, concern painted all over his face and that’s just really not fair, she thinks, that he still looks so earnest and sweet and fucking worried about her.

“Are you hurt?” he asks, urgent and serious, and she shakes her head quickly.

“No! No, I’m - I’m fine, really,” she insists and he proves that he is a gentleman after all, because he doesn’t call her out on the blatant lie.

“Okay,” he says, level, his hand hovering in the space between them like he wants to touch her. “What do you need?” he asks, and she wipes at her face with her hands, swallowing down yet another sob.

“Get me out of here,” she pleads, and he searches her face for - something, she doesn’t know what, because she’s sure all she’s showing him is how much of a fucking mess she is, but he must find whatever he’s looking for.

He gives her a sharp nod. “Anywhere in particular, sweetheart?” he asks, turning to start the car again. She doesn’t call him out on the pet name this time.

“Anywhere but here,” she says, and he puts the car in reverse, pulling back onto the road.

“You got it,” he says, and some of that old charm must kick in - he winks at her in the rearview. She resolutely ignores the spike of emotion it gives her. 

Then she takes a deep, shuddery breath, and opens the group chat to break the news to her wedding party.

part 2

[heich0e]

suna's parents divorced when he was eight.

he doesn't remember a lot of the finer details as he's gotten older, mostly just that there used to be a lot of yelling, but he does remember the two piles of belongings that stacked up in the empty living room of his childhood home: one consisting of his father's and his own, and the other comprised of his mother's and his little sister's. their entire life, their entire family, packed up into cardboard and then divided down the middle.

the apartment he moved into with his father was always too quiet. it was in aichi, far enough away from where he spent the first decade of his life that he didn't have to be reminded of it every time he left the house, but since his father worked so much it still left him with plenty of time to think. to grieve. though maybe he didn't recognize it as that at the time. he played video games his father bought for him after school. ate convenience store bentos or whatever leftovers were set aside for him in the fridge for dinner. he put himself to bed at night. it wasn't a bad life, though maybe a bit lonely.

he was scouted to play for inarizaki when he was 14.

the lonely apartment turned into a lively dorm. he had new friends (his teammates) to play video games with. his convenience store bentos were replaced with hot meals from the meal hall. the loneliness of the apartment in aichi was a distant memory, but still lingered.

"i'm home."

rintarou drops his training bag in the genkan as he toes off his shoes, calling into the apartment to announce his return.

"welcome home!" you call back from further in the apartment, and the sound makes him smirk a little to himself.

you've been coming over to his place a lot lately, ever since he gave you his spare key. he's not upset about this in the slightest, but it doesn't mean he won't take every possible opportunity to tease you for it. he plans how he's going to make fun of you as he pads into his home towards the sound of your voice. he almost has it all planned out—his delivery on the very tip of his tongue—when he falters to a stop.

"how was your day?" you ask him without looking up from what you're doing.

and suddenly, anything rintarou may have wanted to say—joke or otherwise—is beyond him.

he watches as you set a plate of food down on the already full table just off his little kitchen. the food that covers the surface is still hot enough that steam curls up into the air above it, its preparation perfectly timed to his arrival home. his apartment is warm, and smells good, and there's music playing from your cellphone on the other side of the room that you must have been listening to while you cooked.

his chest feels tight.

you turn to look at him when he doesn't respond to your question.

"rin?" you ask again, a lilt of worry in your tone. "you okay?"

"what's all this?" he manages to ask, nodding towards the table where the meal you prepared is still waiting.

"oh, i've been craving my mom's recipe for the past few days, i just thought i'd make it for dinner," you say, tugging at your fingers nervously. your entire countenance is a bit different now, strained like you're worried you've done something wrong. "hope that's okay?" your words lift at the end like a question.

rintarou's never seen so much food on his table. can't remember the last time he even sat there to eat a meal—let alone a home cooked one. his face feels hot, and his eyes sting, and he just can't bring himself to look at you.

"yeah," he says, and if you notice how his voice is a bit croaky, you're nice enough not to tease him about it. "'course it's okay."

you smile, and you look relieved. "wash your hands then, it's getting cold."

you eat your dinner together and talk about your days. you take a shower while he cleans up the dishes. you fall asleep tangled up together on the couch with a movie playing in the background.

his home isn't quiet anymore. he isn't lonely.

and it's thanks to you.

[iliketangerines]

pov you randomly facetime johnny while he's busy working and you're fucking yourself stupid on a dildo that HE CUSTOM MADE FROM HIS OWN COCK AND BALLS and he's just so caught off guard like

made by you

a/n: @partycatty last request!!!

pairing: johnny cage x afab!reader

warnings: nsfw (MDNI), soft!Johnny, needy (like really needy) reader, masturbating (?), praise kink, phone sex, not proofread

Johnny rubs his eyes with one hand, squinting them at the unfinished script of the video game

the pen in his hand shakes as he circles and scribbles in comments about what he liked and what he didn’t like about what the script writer had put in

he wonders if he had hired an idiot because the dialogue sounded stiff and the staging of the scene seemed to make no sense

perhaps he should just hire a new editor and write his own script and then send it to an editor to have them tweak any small details he might’ve missed

his hand reaches out for the coffee cup next to him, and he lifts it up only to find it empty

Johnny looks up from his script with a disgruntled look, lips curved downward and eyebrows furrowed as he stared at the empty cardboard

throwing it into the wastebasket beneath his desk along with the three other empty coffee cups, he stands up from his seat, hearing the bones in his back creak and his knees pop with pain

he groans and presses both of his hands to his lower back, stretching out after spending so long hunched over his desk trying to edit this ridiculous script

maybe he should just go to bed, wake up with a fresh head and fresh eyes

Johnny glances once more over to the script, the red pen decorating the paper at almost every corner, and he lets out a displeased hum

for as much as the weight on his eyelids felt heavy, he really wanted, needed, to get this done tonight, at least before the next shoot happened

he checks his phone for the time, greeted with the sight of you as his lock screen, a bright smile on your face with the sunset perfectly framing you

you hadn’t been able to come with him this time to shoot the current movie, a new project at work had a deadline that happened to cross over into the workflow of the shoot, and you couldn’t afford to slack off

every day and night, he would text you updates about his day, how he felt, whether the food was good on set tonight, and you tried to do the same, complaining about your colleagues, your boss, the traffic getting to and from work

it never failed to make him smile as he read your texts

lately, however, the actors had pressing questions, the cameramen had questions and positions to be marked, the stuntmen needed more clarification on the moveset

he hadn’t had much time for you, and he tried his best to respond to you, typing as fast as he could with one hand as he went on lunch breaks, eyes glued to his screen whenever the actors needed a short break before they could continue

it was absolute hell for him to not be able to talk to you so freely

Johnny steps out of his trailer, trudging over to the coffee machine, checking his phone for any new messages from you

there are a few from a few hours ago, telling them that the dinner party you had been to had been a bust and that one of your colleagues had passed out from drinking too much

he smiles at the text and goes to text you back, quickly pressing the buttons on the coffee machine to give him the largest coffee possible, when your face shows up with your caller id

that was strange, it was past midnight for you usually you’d be fast asleep at this hour, always claiming you needed your beauty rest to get an early start on the grocery shopping on the weekend

nonetheless, he picks up the call, “hey sweetheart, what are you doing up so late?” and he blows on the steaming coffee in his cup and takes a sip

“‘m miss you, miss you Johnny,” you sound breathless, words all slurred together and slightly too high-pitched to be normal

panic strikes through his heart, had something happened? were you safe? had something happened? Shang Tsung?

the memory of you being at the dinner party flits into his memory, and he realizes that you’re probably just drunk and a little needy for him, just as needy as he was for you

“are you drunk? you should go to bed, honey. drink some water before you do.” Johnny takes another sip of his coffee as he starts striding back to his trailer

he wonders if you’ll be able to get up in the morning, you always complained so heavily about hangovers, he’ll send you a text in the morning to remember to take some medicine

“no, not drunk, want you, Johnny, hah-” you practically whine into your phone, and Johnny stops in front of his trailer, hand frozen, his phone tucked right between his ear and his shoulder

suddenly, with his phone so close to his ear, he can hear the faint shuffle of the bedsheets, the way you breathe heavily into the mic and the familiar wet squelch of your pussy

Johnny practically rips the door open in his hurry to get inside, “oh honey, i know, what do you want? tell me.”

suddenly, the coffee in his hand seems redundant, not when adrenaline rushed through him, the thought of you so desperate for him on the sheets sending all of his blood rushing downwards

he places the coffee on his desk and sits on the edge of his bed, pressing his phone as close to his ear as possible to hear you

“want you, want you to kiss me, mark me all over, want you fucking me right now,” you pant into the phone, a low drawn out moan escaping you

Johnny swears his hand is dangerously close to cracking his phone with how tightly he grips it, and he presses his free hand against the bottom of his chin, still trying to remain calm as thoughts of you naked and covered in a slight sweat filters into his thoughts

“i wish i could, honey,” he lets out a sharp exhale through his nose as he tries to imagine what you look like, the soft caress of your skin against the sheets, your eyes that glossy faraway look, lips turned into a slight pout, “tell me what you’re doing right now.”

“mm, wearing your shirt, your favorite, missed you, i miss you,” Johnny resists a groan at the image of you wearing nothing but his shirt, the purple one that had cost too much money

still, it was worth all the money, especially now that you were wearing it right now, all needy and whiny for him

“what else are you doing, honey? c’mon keep talking to me, you’re doing so well.” he encourages to talk more, to fill out the details of your want for him so that he can fuel his own imagination of you

“riding, riding you, but it’s-i-i can’t,” you sound pained at the end, your voice tinted with tears

“hey hey, what’s wrong, what can’t you do?” Johnny presses his chin further into his free hand, trying to decipher what you meant by you riding him

he wasn’t there, but you wouldn’t take on another partner just for this, you wouldn’t do something like that, at least not without his permission

Johnny closes his eyes, listening to you whimper, voice slightly warbled through the phone line, “can’t make myself cum, can’t without you, please, Johnny.”

you sound so desperate for him, and he exhales through his nose, almost proud of himself for ruining you for anyone else, but he could stroke his pride later

“honey, why don’t you facetime me? show me what you’re doing, i’ll guide you. how does that sound?” he hears your small sound of confirmation on the other end, and he pulls his phone away from his ear and waits for your caller id to show up again

as soon as it pops up, he clicks on accept and is met with the sight of you, the phone resting on the headboard of the bed, slightly tilting as you move away after setting up the camera

you look divine, better than he remembered, better than anything he had ever seen actually

his heart slightly aches at the sight of you, just as desperate as you to see each other again, to feel your touch on his skin, to feel your warmth hold his soul

Johnny sucks in a breath and concentrates back on you, how he can slightly see your chest through the unbuttoned front of the shirt, how your thighs slightly trembled as you ride a toy

your baby hairs stick slightly to your forehead, and you look breathless, lips parted in a moan and your brows furrowed upwards as you sink back down onto the toy

he stares at it, rummaging through his mind which one it could possibly be when it suddenly clicks in his head

you were riding him, him as in the prank gift he had given you on your birthday before presenting you with your actual gift

Johnny thought you had thrown it out, but you had kept it and now you were riding it, riding him and his lips slightly part in surprise

as he stares at you, you continue to ride the dildo and let out a long whine as one hand travels downward to rub harsh circles onto your clit

it snaps him out of his shock and back into the moment as he coos at you, “you look so gorgeous, so pretty on my cock.”

a slight hum escapes from you as you stare at the camera with half-lidded eyes, drinking in his praise, and Johnny has to bite his tongue to keep himself from cumming into his pants at the sight alone

“that’s it honey, slow down your hand, you’re being too rough on yourself,” he says it gently, voice a little breathy as he strains to control himself, and you listen obediently, your fingers on your clit slowing down into small gentle circles

you whine pitifully, wanting more, but you listen anyway, trusting him

the fact that you do so easily in such a vulnerable moment fills him with something more, something proud and smooth, like gold shining underneath the sun

“good, you’re being so good for me, sweetheart. use your other hand to pinch your nipple,” he stares, unblinking at his phone as you follow through, legs shaking as you ride him slowly, whimpering as you twist and pinch your nipple

Johnny can’t look away, not, he drinks in the sight like you were the stars in the sky, the galaxies flying in the universe, a marvel, a miracle, a beauty to behold

because you truly were, something wonderful and marvelous and more than anything you would ever know

“that’s it, just like that, speed up just a little bit, good, so good for me” he watches as you bounce a little faster, your fingers against your clit just a bit faster, your pinching at your chest just a bit rougher

“haah, ahhh aghh, Johnny, please, please,” you can barely speak, mewls of pleasure interrupting your own thoughts

“let go for me,” it’s all he needs to say as you moan loudly, and you sink down fully onto the toy, fingers rubbing against your clit desperately as your thighs tremble and twitch

he watches as you ride through your orgasm, as your breathing slows, as your body slouches over, exhausted and spent

“you did so well, so well for me,” he isn’t sure if wants to push it, to tell you to try and get yourself cleaned up, and he decides against it as you lower yourself to the bed and grip onto a pillow, no doubt the one on his side of the bed

his fingers itch to stroke your hair, to massage out your muscles, to hold you close in his arms and fall asleep next to you

Johnny settles with watching you fall asleep on the bed and then ending the call, sending you a text message asking how you felt and to call him when you woke up

setting his phone off to the side, he drags a hand over his face, the image of you riding the toy, the toy based off of him, buried deep inside of you

he stands up and rummages through his drawer, he needed a change of his clothes before he went to bed

[smoshyourheadin]

idea!!!

the cast/crew meeting spencer’s partner for the first time everyone thinks she isn’t real and all that

Disbeleif

pairing: spencer agnew x f!reader

a/n: anon i love this concept SO MUCH!!! also i tried a 3rd person instead of 2nd person perspective for this fic so there is a bunch of use of y/n,,lmk what u think!! also sorry for the slow posting recently i’m almost done w my exams so hopefully more content otw!! thank you all so much for ur support, it means the world 🫶🫶

requests are open <33

spencer had been working at smosh for a few years now, and he had always been the quiet one in the corner, headphones on, immersed in an edit or a video game. everyone knew he was brilliant, but they never saw much of him outside of work. that changed the day he mentioned his girlfriend, y/n.

“wait, spencer, you have a girlfriend?” shayne, his closest colleague, said with a mix of surprise and skepticism.

“don’t sound so surprised! but yeah, she’s amazing,” he replied, a shy smile on his face. “she’s actually cooking dinner tonight. you guys should come over!”

the disbelief was palpable. everyone in the office exchanged glances, clearly doubting spencer’s story. but out of curiosity and the lure of a home-cooked meal, they accepted the invitation.

that evening, spencer’s apartment was a flurry of activity. y/n, a stunning woman with bright eyes and a warm smile, was bustling around the kitchen. she wore a casual dress and an plaid apron, her hair tied back in a high ponytail.

as the doorbell rang, spencer went to answer it, his nerves fluttering. He opened the door to shayne, courtney, amanda, and a couple of others from work.

“welcome welcome, come in!” he said, stepping aside. his friends walked in, their eyes widening at the sight of y/n.

“hi there! I’m y/n. dinner will be ready soon,” she greeted them, her voice cheerful and inviting. her smile was genuine, putting everyone at ease immediately.

“OH MY GOD,” angela shouted “spencer can bring her home she’s so pretty!”

amanda smacked her shoulder as they walked in, giving y/n an apologetic look. all she could do was smile in flattery.

as they settled into the living room, everyone couldn’t help but admire the cozy space filled with gaming consoles, posters of classic video games, and shelves lined with sci-fi novels and collectibles, which trevor and alex were studying in great detail whilst they were waiting for their food.

“wow, he really does have a girlfriend,” courtney whispered to shayne, who nodded, equally astonished.

when dinner was finally served, y/n’s culinary skills shone. the table was laden with a variety of dishes, each one smelling more delicious than the last. they all sat down, and as they started eating, the conversation flowed easily.

“so, spencer tells me you’re all big fans of gaming,” y/n said, looking around the table with a twinkle in her eye. “what’s everyone’s favorite game?”

and just like that, the ice was broken. they spent the evening discussing their favorite games, from childhood ones to the latest releases. to everyone’s surprise, y/n not only kept up, but shared detailed insights and strategies, revealing her deep knowledge and passion for gaming.

“you’re really into this stuff too?” ian asked, clearly impressed.

y/n laughed. “oh, absolutely. spence and i met at a gaming convention. he saw me playing qbert and he came up to me, and we bonded over our love for retro games.”

as the night went on, it became clear that y/n wasn’t just beautiful and kind, but also just as nerdy and passionate about gaming as spencer. she fit perfectly into his world, and he into hers.

by the end of the evening, any doubts about spencer’s relationship were completely dispelled. as his coworkers left, each one thanked y/n for the amazing dinner and the great company.

“thanks for having us, spencer. and y/n, you’re an angel! we should do this again,” anthony said, clapping spencer on the back.

spencer smiled, his shyness melting away. “yeah, we should. thanks for coming, guys.”

as the door closed behind them, spencer turned to y/n, who was busy cleaning up.

“thank you for tonight,” he said softly. “you were amazing.”

y/n smiled, reaching up to kiss his cheek. “anytime, lovebug. i love surprising people.”

and surprise them, she had. everyone at smosh wouldn’t stop talking about her. the slack messages were filled with praise for her cooking, and they realized that their shy, nerdy pal had found someone truly special.

[riizebabie444]

𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙛𝙞𝙧𝙨𝙩 𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚 (18+ reading) 💋

ʚɞ ─── hello and welcome to my reading which will tell you how your first time will be. this is an 18+ reading so please only read if you are over the age of 18.

ʚɞ ─── this is specifically for those who have not had any sexual encounters yet (aka the virgins <3) but this reading is open to any interpretation, such as your first time with your future spouse. but please keep in mind who this pac is meant for as it may not resonate otherwise.

ʚɞ ─── be sure to check out my other readings and don’t forget to share and give feedback. disclaimer: all readings done are for entertainment only. please do not use my tarot readings as a replacement for legitimate advice.

ʚɞ ─── picking your pile: take a deep breath and allow your soul to centre itself. when you feel your mind balanced and cleared, allow yourself to be drawn to an image. your eyes may gravitate to one, or you may close your eyes and feel which image is calling out.

ʚɞ ─── masterlist. paid readings. exchange rules.

donations. games/events. feedback.

𝙥𝙞𝙡𝙚 𝙤𝙣𝙚 💋

cards drawn: the moon, the stars, king of wands, five of wands

i definitely see this being really sweet and dreamy. i am certain this will take place at night when the moon and the stars will be out. it might happen after a romantic night of stargazing and for a small number of you, it could actually be done out in the open under the night sky. for the persons reading this, i get the feminine energy from you and your partner will be the masculine (but please switch if you feel the need to) and it really feels like this masculine will take good care of you.

the way he is treating you, caring for you, attending to every detail, it will make you feel so relaxed and almost force you into a strong feminine energy. you will feel so soft and gentle and relaxed, ready to take in all of the care and affection. i see some of you may have been going through a difficult time, or have not been used to receiving this kind of attention. so it will be a new feeling for you, almost a shock to the system but you will embrace it well.

i also see for some that you may not go all the way but it will be your first time doing anything sexual. your person will surprise you by not letting you lift a finger. say if he eats you out or fingers you and you want to repay him after you've come to your senses again, he won't allow it (in a good way). he would rather you take a nap or snuggle up and watch a movie because he knows this first for you is so precious. it could also be that he pushed your limits a little bit, or maybe from reading your reactions he thinks you came really hard and he understands how tiring it can be for your first time. so he wants you to rest.

i definitely see oral. your person will go down on you. for those who will go all the way, oral as foreplay but i also see the mistake of going straight in. and it might be difficult getting it in for the first time if you get my drift. it might feel a little frustrating and anxiety-inducing, even painful when it's going inside of you. and i think at this point you will take the lead and be vocal about the things you are feeling so that you can both work together to make it as painless as possible. oh i think for pile one, if your person is a guy, it is possible he will have a big ding-dong and that is why it is more tricky and painful than you expected. but still, he is so respectful and attentive making it the best possible experience for you.

i honestly see pile one that you may even finish early or stop because of discomfort, for those who intended to go all the way. a number of you may have a really good time and finish perfectly. but i see clearly that it won't end up going all the way. you might stop because of the pain and decide to try again another time (it will be soon tho. like anywhere from the next day to the next week. i don't think any later than a week after). more than anything, it will be a learning experience and you will both spend the time between the attempts to figure out how to make it work more positively.

but the thing is, even if you finish early, it won't be a bad thing. you or they might feel a bit insecure about not being able to fulfil expectations but at the same time, this didn't happen without an emotional connection between the two of you so you understand and respect the decision, and cuddle with each other, either continue with foreplay or go straight to aftercare, take a bubble bath and possible even discuss the situation and how to handle it better. and i see you guys being confident again after you have discussed it. and if you don't go all the way, i see them trying harder and more often to make you feel good in other ways, like with oral, to satisfy you without having sex. this feels like a good pile, pile ones. even if there are mishaps, it will still end really well.

𝙥𝙞𝙡𝙚 𝙩𝙬𝙤 💋

cards drawn: king of cups, ace of wands, death, the world

oh definitely the creation of a strong bond here, deepening something that was already there or possibly awakening the deep connection. i see you and your person being so patient with each other. you will get an emotional rise out of this, possibly more than the physical. i'm going to sound so crude saying this but i can't think of a better way to say this but with the ace of wands, it is literally a glowing hand wrapped around a stick...well, whoever has the stick will think the one working on it is doing some sort of magic with their hand. it feels so unreal to them, or it could be you. i'm certain for most that your first time will be hand stuff or will start that way. and could possibly move onto oral but i don't see that for all of you.

okay i'm thinking you guys who chose pile two are the one with the magic hand. it looks like your first time doing anything sexual, but you will make the first move. if this doesn't sound like you, i understand. but i also believe you will be so excited and surprise yourself with how motivated you are to do it. you were thinking about it for a long time and your person couldn't say no. i see for some of you it could be a "kinky lesson" kind of thing, where the person is teaching you how to do it. even showing you with their own hands. if your person is a woman, i see them using their hands to spread their flower open and you will literally gulp omg. it feels very sensual but also playful and kinky. you will both enjoy and feel turned on by the "lesson" scenario. even if you already know what you're doing, the idea that they are teaching you or vice versa is a big turn on especially because it's your first time. it will also ease your worries about not doing it well.

so the above was more focused on your first sexual experience altogether but i'm going to now focus on your first time having sex. it will be a life changing thing and i don't mean the sex will be so good it changes the trajectory of your life (i mean it will...but anyway) but i mean it will happen as you are entering a new chapter. for example, committing to your person. it could be marriage for some but for most i think it could be before marriage. or if you decide this person is your forever person, so you're entering a new phase of your life where everything doesn't just revolve around you anymore and you need to always consider your person. you could be moving in with them. it will feel like a big change. even a new job, new home, new city. you are transforming in some or every way when this happens. oh i got a message that for some of you, if you plan to wait for marriage, you may decide at that time to do it before marriage. you will surprise yourself with this decision but you will be happy with your decision, i'm seeing.

haha the death card could literally mean you feeling like you died and came back to life when climaxing. like it feels so good you literally leave this world. i see you really letting go. perhaps you were feeling so nervous leading up to this, and when it happened you surprised yourself with how loose and into it you were. it could also be letting go of expectations surrounding sex. perhaps you think about sex a lot, or read or watch it often so you have certain thoughts and expectations about sex. but when you finally experience it, you will realise sex doesn't have a frame of reference. you'll think it's such a wild and unique experience both emotionally and physically that you can't even compare it to anything you previously thought.

for the most part, it will be enjoyable. tricky at first for some but in the end, enjoyable. some of you may find it so incredible while others may feel a little underwhelmed, but will still think it was really good. i see also that some of you may have been expecting your person to be better at sex than how they performed. maybe it's because it's your first time so they're holding back, or they are just not as good as you thought rip. but i'm getting the message that the first time is not supposed to be the best time. the best sex comes with experience and comfort so maybe your expectations for your first time were quite high. i do see most of you reaching an orgasm. for some it will be insanely amazing whilst others may be expecting more. i feel like it's a mixed pile here i do apologise for not being clearer.

oh i do get the message also for those of you who are physically underwhelmed, fret not because as i said when i opened this pile's reading, your first time is more about deepening an emotional and sacred bond with your partner rather than having an out of this world physical experience. you will absolutely cherish the time with your partner. aah you will definitely have that afterglow. feeling so whole and wholesome, fulfilled, completed after sharing yourself with a special person. there is the theme of transformation coming up again. your first time will be a spiritual and emotional journey, achieving emotional fulfilment with your partner and the joy you feel physically will only make the emotions stronger.

𝙥𝙞𝙡𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙚𝙚 💋

cards drawn: three of pentacles rv, the hermit, king of pentacles rv, queen of wands

i also saw the hanged man and four of wands whilst shuffling and although they did not come out, i feel it is relevant to say that the majority of you who chose pile three will have your first time on your wedding night. if you are saving yourself for marriage, then this is your confirmation. it will happen in a number of ways: for most of you, on your wedding night and for some it could happen coming up to the wedding (i'm seeing some could spontaneously elope prior to the wedding and have your first time then), or it could be any time after they have proposed as you are certain you will be married and are too excited to wait. but for most it will be the wedding night.

i also see that some will perform non-sex sexual acts before marriage, like foreplay, oral, with hands etc. but when you go all the way, it will be on the wedding night. you may be feeling some disharmony in a way but not with your person. you may have had a stressful wedding day or some family members weren't treating you right on your special day, perhaps some friend drama. whatever it may be, you will be feeling a little disheartened. you wanted this day to be so perfect and special but someone you love and trust ruined it for you. but don't worry, the whole day won't be ruined. and your person will do their best to help you think about the better things. and i believe there will be a support circle around you, those who will defend you and try to make your day as best as it can be. even if it is not something like a wedding day, i think people will notice the way you are mistreated and try to make you smile.

no one will try harder than your person, however. i think you can really just let down your walls and be yourself with your person and they noticed you were having your walls up due to the stress and disharmony caused earlier. so when you guys are alone at last, it will feel like there is an elephant in the room but neither of you are addressing it. they would rather you just relax and forget about everything, truly appreciating your first time and not allowing any drama from the outside world to ruin your night. oh, let me tell you, they will make you forget it completely! this feels like a soul connection, when you do it for the first time you it will be like a dance between the souls more than the bodies haha. i believe it will also make you connect with yourself. all the new feelings, sensations are weird yet enticing. it's like you passing the first level of a game and simultaneously unlocking the next hundred levels at once. you know you should take it in small steps but it will unleash so much excitement to explore your body and sexual experiences with your person to the highest level. you may even rush your partner but they will tell you to slow down as they want you both to cherish it.

and you will definitely want to do it nonstop after your first time. like the morning after, the evening after, several times a day for the next five months straight haha im really just seeing so much passion and excitement and curiosity surrounding sex, and it all stems from that first night. okay let me get to the actual night itself, your person is going to make you feel like you're sitting on a throne. heck, they might even make you sit on their face because they want to be your throne. i do see foreplay happening, taking it slow, teasing. i think you will be quite nervous though. and your person will definitely notice. i'm seeing some of you may even be panicky. possibly even insecure for some of you. and i also see your person being a little bit insecure about how well they can perform and how comfortable they can make you feel. they are just so concerned about you and they end up overthinking and feeling insecure :( so they put their all into the moment.

haha i see if you have pets, there's a good chance they might climb or jump onto the bed while you're doing it and it will be a cute, funny moment that will bring you both back to earth, you'll feel all the stress and anxiety fade away and you can try again. the energy will be much lighter this time. i do see the first time being successful, it will happen relatively smoothly for most of you. i think more than physical pain, you will be experiencing mental anguish. and that does sound quite severe but for some it will be little, others it will be more. perhaps if you are insecure about your looks or body or how certain body parts look, you may feel insecure about them and act stubbornly. say you want to wear a shirt to cover yourself which might upset your person because they will think you don't trust them.

like i said earlier though, your person will not pressure you. communication is important but they don't want to ruin your first time, it's likely it will be their first also or that they don't have a lot of experience. so they focus on doing the deed itself and enjoying it, exploring each others bodies and making the most out of it. the heavy emotions caused by earlier events will be felt by the two of you but ignored for the sake of creating a memorable night together. and all the talking and communication comes later on. i think you may wish you didn't feel so many burdens and insecurities for your first time but you will also not want it any other way because your person was so affectionate and caring. i see it being quite slow overall, very instinctual. a lot of focus on the physical to distract you from the emotional.

𝙥𝙞𝙡𝙚 𝙛𝙤𝙪𝙧 💋

cards drawn: the sun rv, the lovers, temperance rv, three of wands

the sun might literally be setting while you're doing it, or possibly rising but i see the sun going down. some of you may even plan for it to happen that way. this will definitely be done with the love of your life, as i'm seeing. for a number of you it will be on your wedding night but this is not for everyone. i think a lot of you will actually do it before or after. it feels so sweet. like you just know you are doing it with the right person. i see you guys being the more feminine but please take it how it resonates if you indeed feel the opposite.

i'm seeing a a holiday and i literally heard honeymoon. there's a good chance it could happen on your honeymoon. otherwise, it will happen when you and your person are on holiday. celebrating an anniversary perhaps or an engagement, or a birthday or valentine's day. or even just having a weekend getaway to spend time together. that is the scenario i am getting for when it will happen. how it will happen...well it's funny you ask because it seems to just happen so quickly. not the act itself but rather the decision, the passion, the excitement. i see you in particular being so impatient. you want to go to the next level so bad and don't get me wrong, your person feels the same but you are so damn ready for it. i seriously think you may be having extreme sexual frustration. you're so desperate to do it!

you may have attempted to do it already but experienced some sort of setback or delay, perhaps interrupted by life responsibilities. so when you get this chance to do it again, you are not leaving until you have done it haha. oh i think for those of you who are waiting for marriage, perhaps you didn't get the chance to do it on your wedding night or didn't end up going all the way. so you will go all the way when you are honeymooning. hmm so i think you are the type of person who tries to be positive but when you are feeling not positive it is so dramatic. you might be a bit of a drama queen and i'm seeing a scenario where your person is being so playful and attentive of your pouty mood and that's when you will realise "i want them so bad" haha like you will be ready to pounce on them. something about their little dedicated actions will make you want them so much. not just physically, you want them to be your first so bad because they are the best person ever and you can't imagine it with anyone else.

yeah there is so much impatience here. you just can't hold back anymore. it will be a real struggle for your person also they will try so hard to not rush you, but the sex itself will feel like a reward after waiting for so long and giving so much effort to wait this long. oh i'm seeing it could go on for hours. all of that tension, sexual frustration and impatience building up and then snapping and you can't stop. i'm seeing it will be slow at first but i'm also seeing at the end you'll be going fast like rabbits. you and your person will both be surprised at how much you can take, and how well you are taking it. i see you maybe even taking the lead and being on top once you get used to it.

you will both really enjoy the foreplay. for some it could happen quickly because you're so excited to get straight into the sex. but for others, the foreplay could last a while, building up to the real thing and it blows your mind even more. you first time will be so liberating. even during your very first experience, you want to do all the things you fantasised about, explore all of your kinks but the night is so short. it's hard for you to do all of that but the passion and excitement is there and your partner will see it. oh i see opposites attract, so they may be calmer and tamer than you and kind of teach you to slow down whilst still satisfying your appetite.

okay i see you partner envisioning you as a map to explore. not just in terms of exploring your body, but also your mind, your fantasies, your kinks, all the positions they can have you in. your "awakening" is also awakening something inside of them. i think it is important to practise sex in moderation because too much all at once could make you feel sick later on, like eating too many sweets. i'm pretty sure you'll end up ignoring this advice though haha. it's liberating and healing, opening a whole new world to you. this pile feels more refreshing and adventurous compared to the other piles. a very young and bright spirit. there is more focus on the experience with the body rather than emotional connections. it's opening your eyes to a whole new world, blanching your cells in a completely new feeling. i love this for you pile four. there is so much to be excited for.

𝙥𝙞𝙡𝙚 𝙛𝙞𝙫𝙚 💋

cards drawn: five of cups, two of wands, the tower, the devil rv

i'm sorry to open with this pile five but this is the only "negative" pile out of all of these piles, but i do say it lightly. it won't be an absolutely terrible experience so to speak but i do see you feeling some sort of regret after it happens. there will definitely be tears, likely from the initial pain of it happening. but i see the tears also being caused by emotions. ah for some of you, i see you thinking your first time was an opportunity to deepen your relationship with your person, but they will leave you afterwards. you had hopes they would be your forever person but after giving them something so important, they left. for some, it will be that the person was sort of using you, or they realised this experience was as far and committed as they wanted to be with you, so they leave afterwards.

i am sorry to say the above but my advice here is to be very careful and selective with the person you choose. but i think for others, it will be that they will stay with you a little longer, and leave later on due to other reasons. but you will still feel that regret of giving your virginity to them and wish you had saved it in the end. oh i do see a small number of you where it happens as a drunken mistake/one night stand or something of the sort. and for others, there is the possibility of becoming pregnant or getting someone pregnant during your first time which may lead to regrets. oh i know i am saying many different scenarios here so please only take what resonates as this is a general reading after all, there are messages for many different people.

i believe during the act itself, you will be feeling quite courageous, very daring energy. i think you will be nervous beforehand, maybe questioning if you should go through with the act or not. however, i do see you being brave and talking yourself up to it, kind of hyping yourself up to not waste anymore time. it feels quite spontaneous and in the moment, but you will simply just know that you want it to happen. it could also happen when you are abroad or travelling somewhere away from home. and you will have that excitement because your first time is an opportunity to discover something entirely new. you will be pushing yourself out of your comfort zone!

i do see it being a "messy" experience too. like clothes and bedsheets all over the place. even if it was something sweet with rose petals and candles and nice bedsheets, it will all end up a mess in the end. this can be good or bad depending on your preferences, but i do see you being shocked when you realise the extent of the mess which was made. you will be thinking "damn, were we really that unhinged?" it really feels like you're falling. you know those dreams where you're falling and you get those sensations in your tummy? i'm seeing you will have that feeling. it could be when you climax, the feeling of plummeting after reaching a high. you can also sometimes get that feeling when you are nervous or overwhelmed so it could be due to that.

the feeling itself would be quite unexpected. i feel you may have some thoughts or perceptions of how sex might feel but when it happens it is completely different. but in a good way! oh i feel you may be having some deep, dark fantasies in regards to sex, and you will be thinking about them a lot. but your first time will break you away from those fantasies because the act itself is different to what you expect, it kind of changes your thoughts about sex in general. yeah, it is literally life-changing for you. not in an extreme way lol but still, it will change your thoughts and perceptions about sex and possibly about life in general. i also think there will be lots of overwhelming feelings and emotions, but you will work through them easily. okay the last message is so random however i'm hearing "blindfolded", that may be one of your kinks or you will discover it as a kink. it could possibly be a part of your sexual experience. this was a pretty difficult pile to read for with some no-so-great messages, however i do want to tell you to not feel disheartened. you will eventually learn to accept how it happened because the first experience does not set the standard for all of them, and you will learn to have better experiences in the future!

© riizebabie444 — all rights reserved. please do not copy, steal, repost or translate my readings on any site. any act of which will be classed as plagiarism.

[luvhughes43]

blue nail polish | luca fantilli

luvhughes43 masterlist🌷

request: Hi, I have a request for Luca so reader and Luca are dating and the reader is getting her nails done and she comes back just in time for some big hockey game that Luca is playing in and after the game she really she shows him her nails, and they’re blue and yellow with his number painted on them and he’s just like totally awe of her. I just got my nails done, and this idea popped into my head in the chair. 😭😭😭

word count: 0.4k

when you walked into your nail appointment you had no clear idea of what you wanted to get done. however, as soon as you laid eyes on the blue and yellow polish - perfect matches for the michigan colours - you immediately knew what you had to do. plus, with your plans to meet Luca after tonight's game you knew that it would be the perfect surprise. 

hours later, with your nails perfectly painted and the boys snagging another win, you wait for your boyfriend by his car. 

“baby!” luca shouts as soon as he spots you, jogging up to meet you. 

you smile into his quick kiss and let him drag you into a comforting hug. “how was your day?” luca asks, speaking into your hairline as he's reluctant to let you go.

you hum, “good. i got my nails done,” 

Luca pulls away from you. “how much?”

“75” you reply before pulling my hands behind my back so luca has no chance at seeing them.

“I’ll transfer you later,” he replies, pulling me into another quick kiss. “can i see them?”

“you don’t have to transfer me,”

“i want too,” Luca laughs at your reaction and wraps his arms back around you. when you're once again pressed up against him he repeats, “can i see your nails”

you sheepishly pull away from him, “okay but if you don’t like them don’t make fun of me!”

“I would never-”

you flash your nails in front of your face and your boyfriend immediately pauses. “is that…” he starts but pauses, truly at a loss for words. 

“do you like them?” you question, nervous now because of Lucas lack of words. your nails were a dark blue with maize detailing. little 63s adorning your middle fingers to represent your boys hockey number.

“is that my number?” Luca gasps, turning on his phone flashlight and pointing it at your nails. “this is sick,” 

“i was worried you weren’t going to like them,” you giggle as you watch your boyfriend obsess over your acrylics. 

“i love you so much,” Luca blurts out, shoving his phone back into his pocket and pulling you into a searing kiss. “like, that's so… cute? hot? I don't know, i love you,”

Luca starts pressing kisses all over your face just as some of the boys on his team start making their way deeper into the parking lot. “you lovebirds make me sick!” one of them shouted, and instead of replying Luca just presses another kiss to your lips.

[chironshorseass]

what bugs me most about the pjo show is that i know they could’ve done better. i knowwwww they could’ve been as faithful as they wanted to the books. for anyone saying “oh, but it’s an adaptation! it isn’t meant to be the same so stop whining that they took stuff out or that they’re adding things in different order!” well yes, i agree that adaptations aren’t meant to be a carbon copy of the source material for the simple fact that it’s adapting the source material into a different medium (television), yet it’s just that! a form of adapting the things that are unable to be channeled from, say, a book—or on the contrary, adding things that make sense for television but couldn’t be channeled into the books otherwise…all of this in a faithful manner. a good adaptation is one that stays true to the source material by properly adapting its themes, characters, symbolism, context, pacing, and the overall story/plot so as to not only be seen as a sort of love letter to the fans, but also to reach a wider audience.

just look at the hunger games! the movies are so faithful to the books to the point that most of the scenes are taken straight out of the books, dialogue and all. and they’re movies, aka less runtime than a freaking tv show and they still did it better. did the hg movies have to take a few scenes out? yes; they have only so much time to tell the story as it is told in the books. did they resume things, like the games themselves? also yes. but did most of the important scenes and character moments stay in the movies? also also yes. again, THESE ARE MOVIES!!!!! a medium much more limited than a freaking tv series with multiple episodes that have enough run time to add even more scenes from the books than what could be possible in a 2 hour (max) movie!!!!!!!!!!!!!

and yet they STILL changed so much that rly had no business being changed other than that the writers decided they felt like it because…..a lot of it im not even sure. and the worst thing of it all is that freaking rick riordan took part in script writing yet so much of the source material has been watered down???? they make a whole ass episode about a monster fight with the majority of the scenes from said episode not even present in the books instead of sticking to the perfectly good source material???? and by doing so they delete the small details that are very much integral to character development and plot???? huh???? the math isn’t mathing. don’t get me wrong, i do like some changes, but then i think: at what cost do they add these things when there was a perfectly good narrative without it? like, at what cost do we get the whole turning to gold sacrifice scene if they’re gonna take out all the fun details that make the lightning thief the lightning thief? for example the silly water park merch and then annabeth displaying her spider phobia and her mortification at going to the thrill ride of love with percy and then being broadcasted to olympus. this is just one episode, but they’ve been doing it in all of them. and u know, it’s not that i don’t hate-hate most these changes. again, what bugs me is that this was supposed to be a faithful adaptation. again, it’s a tv series, with so much more time to develop everything from the books. rick is behind it, who apparently hated the movies for how unfaithful they were. the cast is great. and yet…the script is so mediocre. the spark is lost. character traits are looked over in place for weird pacing and even weirder changes. if the hunger games could do it, then surely a pjo tv series could as well? apparently not? i really really Don’t Get It.

[acehazbin1]

I need, I crave to see a moment from your imagination where Geta has someone who supports him, cause Caracalla has Geta but who has Geta, right? He carried the empire and his brother's illness alone

“Hush love, hush.”

Paring: Emperor Geta x Concubine!Reader

Warnings: No use of Y/n, mentions of sex, Geta being stressed, unhealthy ways of coping.

Notes: Thank you for the ask! Honestly, I think it is a really interesting thing to think about, who is there for Geta? (Thank you for all the support on the Caracalla fic!?)

His tunic was stained with him but that's how the fights normally went between Geta and Caracalla. Drinks were thrown, vases were broken, and voices were hoarse. No maid or guard stopped them unless Caracalla got physical.

Geta would normally come to his brother's aid after a maid had alerted he calmed down; gently reassuring him that nothing would come between them and he was as much an Emperor as him. It used to happen every so often but it's nearly become weekly at this stage.

He would fuck the stress out of him by choosing a concubine. Ruining one after the other, not caring about their pleasure, he only needed to feel something, anything. His favourite one was never the one to turn him down while stressed, she often was ready for him.

This night in particular he walked passed her, not even a glance away. She spent a minute trying to figure out what was wrong. Did she wear Caracalla colours? Or was her makeup wrong? She noticed he didn't choose any Concubine instead he told a maid to set up a bath.

He asked her to join him in the bath a lot, maybe he wanted to make her beg for him. She was stuck on what to do, so she wrapped herself in a silk nightgown and slowly walked towards the imperial bathroom. Her hand reached the golden door knob as she hesitated, he wasn't the one to play games Caracalla was.

She turned the handle and stepped into the room. The titles matched perfectly with the paintings on the wall, all having little details and stories about Rome’s past and how many emperors and Caesars had become before him. She only saw the back of his head without the crown, his hand out of the bath reached for the golden chalice filled with the utmost richest wine.

“I told you not to disturb me.” Geta called out, his words bouncing off the walls. She was sure he thought she was a mere maid. “I never heard.” His favourite called out, there was a pause that lasted too long for her liking making her brain scream that it was a horrible decision.

His hand reached up to hold the side of the tub, she heard water leak out as he moved to turn to her. His eyes meant hers, he might have been far enough away but she could see his makeup was smudged, running down his face and there was a cut on his neck. He had been crying?

She had never seen him cry before, it was strange, to say the least. The way his back mascara ran down his face made her think of the many concubines he left like that, but to see him wear the face of sorrow was almost Ironic.

She has admitted to the other women that it was becoming more than a job to her, and they warned against that thread of thoughts yet she couldn't help but care for him. She didn't mind when he bruised her hips after a night of one-sided pleasure or the rope burns she would get when he tried them too tight. He would always notice it the next time and pepper kisses when he hurt never mentioning it.

She knew the other concubines were jealous of the treatment she had gotten but they never stayed in bed with him stroking his hair as he slept after their job was done. She would always take an extra step to ensure that he was pleasured.

So her knees nearly went weak when he whispered, “Stay…” it was a request, not a demand. The way he looked at her and clutched onto the tub made her have a desire just to hold him. Before she could even respond, her feet walked towards him. Her hands met with his face, her thumbs wiped away his tears which more flowed down.

He tried to breathe in to stop himself from crying but he was met with her whispers. “It's okay.” He let out a breath and more tears streamed down. She brought his face back looking forward and sat herself down on the side of the tub. He moved towards her leg rests his head down on the fabric as she let him cry into it. “Hush love, hush.” She whispered as she stroked his ginger hair.

“W-why must the gods hate me?” Geta choked into her thigh, his hand gripping onto it now desperately trying to keep it there. “All I do is try to honour them yet they send disease after disease to my brother.”

She listened nodding gently at his words; he ran a whole empire and kept his brother from madness, he often came to bed unable to sleep due to stress. His eyes are often baggy going through trying to drown the look with makeup and the feelings with wine. But nothing ever worked.

“They do not hate you, they give you struggles that you will overcome so the people will remember you.” She whispered, he looked up at her so she leaned down to kiss his forehead. “They will remember your strength, passion, determination and your love for the people to go through these struggles and remain the emperor of Rome.”

Maybe she was telling him what he wanted to hear, what he needed to hear yet something in it had truth. She cared enough for him to remain by his side whispering sweet comforts. “Will you remember me?” He whispered as her hand went towards a cloth to wipe away his makeup.

“Of course, how could I forget?” she replied in a whisper which made him relax in her hand. The room was quiet with just water moving in the background to her washing the makeup off his face.

Over the next month, Geta learned to come to her when he was stressed. He would no longer fuck the stress out of himself unless she agreed it would help instead most days he would lay on her lap letting her stroke his hair. He felt safe with her, a feeling he didn't get often.

[cvntydazai]

cat and mouse

ever since your first day at the agency you’ve made an effort to avoid dazai and his silly little games, even when he so desperately craves your attention.

pairing; dazai osamu x fem!reader

word count; 3.3k

content warning; nsfw (minors do not interact), unedited, cursing, dazai fingers reader, reader is gifted but their gift is not described/specified, the usual dazai shenanigans, mentions of blood/injury, mentions of murder, probably a lot more

authors note; sigh not only is this a day late but i’m not proud of it so sorry guys :( been so busy lately this was not what i had in mind for this fic, i still hope it’s enjoyable!

when you first joined the agency it was a desperate attempt to find a job that could utilize your gift, after many failed “normal” jobs you just had to accept that your situation wasn’t normal and you needed a job that could handle that. you caught wind of a detective agency full of gifted individuals and knew it was the perfect opportunity.

that’s how you got to where you were now, 6 months into your career as a gifted detective. it has been going perfect, being the longest job you’ve ever had.

there was just one issue, a big one that took its place in the form of a tall, bandaged man who could never leave you alone. dazai osamu, the issue called itself, would be the death of you.

it all started on your very first day at the agency, he wasted little time introducing himself and instead put all of his energy towards wooing you with those doe eyes. you also recall him telling you could rely on him anytime, followed by a wink and a knowing smirk. you were warned by yosano to keep your distance from him, advice that you still regret not taking to this day.

he tried to get your attention for weeks, throwing paper balls on your desk and mouthing at you to open them. inside was always a love note, multiple tiny hearts littering the crumpled paper. he never seemed to take it personally when you would throw those papers in your trash can, forgetting about them to continue on with work.

just when you begin to think he’s finally let go of his obsession with you, one fateful morning you end up alone with him in the office.

“ah, beautiful morning isn’t?” he attempted small talk, you only offered a nod and continued filing out your paperwork.

so engrossed in your work you didn’t realize how close he had gotten until you felt his warm breath fanning your shoulder, you naturally flinched. you cocked your head to glance at him, those tired eyes focused on your computer screen.

“what has you working your sweet little head off?” his curiosity would seem genuine to anyone who wasn’t familiar with dazai and his antics.

you cleared your throat, “just recalling the specifics of my previous mission.” he hummed, his slim hand brushing over yours so he could use the scroll wheel on your mouse. you watched as his eyes scanned the document, analyzing your every word.

being so physically close you were forced to take in all the features of him you chose to ignore, for your own good. you knew dazai was an attractive man, and he knew it too. you didn’t dare to look in his eyes anymore so you focused on his hair, unkempt yet still framed his face perfectly and looked fluffy, you wondered if it felt fluffy too.

“it’s hard to focus with you staring me down like a piece of meat, bella.” he whispered, you gasped at such an accusation.

“whatever, in your dreams.” you bit back, feeling flustered.

he turned to look at you, his eyes danced around your entire face, drinking in every detail of you like a book. many silent moments later, his eyes stopped when they landed on your lips, causing even more turmoil in your chest. it was all too much, being under the heavy gaze of someone like him.

“anyways..” you start, trying to find any excuse to break this close proximity. “the others should be here soon, we should start getting stuff done around here.”

he hummed in agreement, backing away at last. now that you felt like you could breathe again you tried your hardest to continue on with whatever paperwork you had. you ignored the tremble in your fingertips, typing away on the keyboard.

once the others started filing into the office the tension eased substantially, you were thankful for that. kunikida was the first to arrive, surprised to see you both already there. you ignored his curious stare, greeting him properly and then returning to your computer. dazai pestered the poor man for a bit before quieting down himself.

you thought that was it, the weird encounter in the office would be the last of his teasing. couldn’t he see you weren’t in the mood for his games, or was this all too amusing for him to care?

fate would put you in a battle against dazai once again just a mere week later. you both sat in front of your boss, a kind man by the name of fukuzawa. in your months here at the agency your respect for him has only grown, his admiration for his employees and the work they do warmed your heart. you truly felt grateful to be under the command of someone as strong-willed and humble as he was.

“there’s a murder scene i’d like the two of you to look into, please go gather evidence.” he says, hands folded in his lap while he speaks to you.

you’re both silent as he goes over the details of the case. a body found in the museum with suspicion of a gifted individual being involved, it felt as normal as these missions usually are. once you’re dismissed you and dazai make your way outside to the cab waiting for you.

he rushes to open the car door for you, motioning you inside with an eager smile. you sigh, complying with whatever he was up to.

you shuffle around a bit until you’re comfortable, dazai takes his seat beside you and the car begins moving. while dazai stared out of the window on his side, you occupy yourself with responding to all the messages people have sent you that you pushed aside to finish work. some may call you a workaholic (dazai), others (kunikida) call you a devoted employee, you much preferred the title of a devoted employee. your desire to be of use was finally fulfilled now that you were at the agency, for that you were eternally thankful.

“my dear y/n, i just realized something!” the loud voice of dazai makes you cringe, clutching your poor phone into a death grip.

he doesn’t let you respond, “this is our first time handling a case together alone, just the two of us!” the excitement in his tone makes you irritated.

“and what about it?” your monotonous response makes the brunette clutch his chest, a look of hurt in his eyes.

“we finally get the alone time we’ve been dying to have since our little moment in the office.” if the phone that was still being strangled in your palm wasn’t already broken, it sure was now.

“you totally misread the situation in the office, i wasn’t even looking at you like that!” the anger in your tone came across as an embarrassed yelp, it made his grin grow wider.

there was no point in arguing with a man who has made up his mind, he totally thought you were checking him out and now he’ll never back down. an exasperated sigh left your lips, deeply regretting not taking yosano’s warning seriously.

thankfully, all you had to endure for the rest of the car ride was dazai’s humming to a tune you were unfortunately accustomed to by now. it was hard to forget said song when it was always filling the office air, either by dazai’s singing or the sound blaring from his headphones that were definitely not noise-canceling.

hell, you even caught yourself humming the tune from time to time, not that you’d ever let someone else find out.

“we’re here.” you thanked the driver, hastily leaving the vehicle before dazai could open the door for you.

the museum in front of you was old, ready to crumble at any given moment, many of the stone bricks were cracked beyond repair and the shrubs that surrounded the entrance were all dead or dying. you never got the details on whether or not the place was even running anymore.

“this museum shut down years ago and no one has bought it since, perfect place to commit murder.” dazai appeared beside you, seemingly answering the question to your thoughts.

you nodded in agreement, stepping inside without a second thought.

inside all you could see was chaos, shattered glass from broken display cases and graffiti littering the walls. it almost pained you, seeing how this once beautiful sanctuary of history was now torn to shreds for no good reason.

you found what you were looking for quick, the bright yellow caution tape gave it away. you’re sure the police had already come to take the body, so it didn’t surprise you when you didn’t see anything there.

fukuzawa strictly said you were only here to gather evidence, so that’s what you’ll do. while you got to work, dazai lazed around the building, kicking random trash around to entertain himself. he would giggle when you scolded him for tampering with possible clues.

you knew you were only here to gather evidence but something about the whole situation felt so strange to you, leaving you no choice but to investigate further. normally, you pride yourself in how well you are at gathering information needed for an investigation, but this time around you were completely stumped.

it had your brain so wracked you even contemplated calling ranpo, however you fought against it since you knew he was already working on a case today and you didn’t want to bother him just because you couldn’t find clues that may not exist.

after a few more minutes of coming back empty handed the realization hit you like a truck, a soft breath leaving your lips at your newfound discovery.

“dazai..” you mumble, still a bit unsure of your conclusion, he only hummed in response.

“i don’t think a murder ever occurred here.” nothing but silence on his part, until you hear the shuffling of his footsteps and his breath hot against your ear.

“well done, flower! to be honest, i didn’t think you would figure it out this quickly.” his hushed voice felt loud with him being so close to you.

you were left confused once again, if dazai knew from the start why didn’t he just say so? or was he the one who orchestrated this whole thing? so many questions reeling through your brain, and dazai was thoroughly enjoying watching you piece together the mystery he created for you.

but alas, he had to cut it short, you two had limited time here after all. fukuzawa would eventually figure out dazai’s antics and there would be hell to pay, that was a problem for later though.

“i made the whole thing up!” he admitted, lips still dangerously close to your ear. “you were always so busy, i needed to get you alone for once.”

you pushed him off you in an instant, anger bubbling inside you. never once did you expect dazai to do something like this, no matter how crazy he was at times. hell, this was beyond crazy.

“you couldn’t have gone about it like a normal fucking person? jesus christ, dazai!” you were now pacing, thinking of all the time you lost entertaining this game of his when it could have been spent at the office or on a real case.

“oh bella please, let me finish.” he begged, stepping close to you again.

you protested for a second time, taking a step back so he couldn’t reach you. it would prove to be the wrong move, your ankle catching on a stray piece of rubble from all the broken displays in this damned building. you’re sent tumbling backwards, a cry leaving your lips as you reached out to grasp dazai’s open arms.

your landing is hard, your ankle throbbing with pain from whatever it was caught on. dazai is at your side in an instant, a look of concern adorning his features as he practically cradled you.

“are you okay?” his voice was serious this time around, so much so that it caught you off guard.

“no, my ankle is bleeding.” you state, clear annoyance in your voice whilst you examine your injury.

you’re caught off guard once again by him effortlessly picking you up from the floor and setting you down on a flat, clean surface. now perched on a white table, you let your other leg dangle off the edge while you tend to your hurt ankle.

dazai claims he’ll be back, that he’s going to search for a medkit around here. you nod, happy to be away from his suffocating presence. you’re not anywhere near free from your thoughts though, the lanky man is still clean in your mind.

you didn’t even know he possessed the strength to lift you like that, he always looked so frail and ready to break at any given. you shake your head from any further thoughts of dazai, that stupid man.

“found one.” he was back again, a small medkit in his rather large hands.

despite your many protests he still insisted on caring for you, acknowledging that this was his fault and the responsibility should fall on his shoulders. you kept your mouth shut while he wrapped your foot in the bandages the first aid kit provided. his soft touches to your swollen skin were light, almost soothing.

you hated this, hated how perfect he was. how were you supposed to ignore such a man when his presence was everywhere. most of all though, you were still thoroughly pissed! he not only wasted your time, but the agency’s time, and that was unforgivable in your eyes.

“why?” you question him, “and don’t give me that bullshit ass excuse from before, or so help me.”

he chuckled at your threatening words, eyes remained trained on your foot. there was a momentary pause before his eyes met yours, his held mischievous undertones.

“i was getting tired of this back and forth, you know.” there he goes again like a broken record, you huffed.

“i don’t know what you’re-“ he cuts you off with a finger to your lips, hushing you in the sweetest way he could muster.

“the other day, when you threw away one of my well thought out love letters i went to retrieve it after you left to the bathroom, can you imagine my surprise to find it wasn’t there anymore?” your eyes widen, like a deer caught in the bright headlights of a hunters truck.

“and then i go to check your locker and i see every single one of them in a nice neat stack.” his finger was taken off your lips, his eyebrow raised as if expecting an answer to his discovery.

“why were you in my locker?” you deflect, feeling embarrassed that he knew about your little secret.

instead of answering he finished wrapping your foot, giving the gauze one final tug before leaving it be. he smiled at you, a smile you couldn’t read. with your legs spread out like they were, it gave him the perfect opportunity to weave in between them and trap your body close to his. he did just that, growing dangerously close to you.

“dazai..” you start, unsure.

he doesn’t say anything, instead focusing on treading his fingers against your waist, eyes never once leaving yours.

“we shouldn’t..” you speak again, your breathing growing more sporadic when he hooks one of his fingers underneath your belt buckle, the way he plays with it is teasing.

“why shouldn’t we, bella? i arranged all of this for us anyways.” his way of showing interest in you, doing something so unsound with little care for the consequences.

but oh god, was it attractive. his touch grew more and more needy by the second and you couldn’t find the desire to push him away, because deep down you wanted this too. you knew you wanted the bandaged detective the second you walked through those doors and saw him sitting there, fiddling with little trinkets he had on his desk looking pretty as ever.

“i think we should put an end to this cat and mouse game, hm?” his voice fills your ears again and this time around you listen, nodding whilst wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him even tighter against you.

he’s first to put his lips on yours in a desperate, longing kiss. he tastes sweet, probably from whatever chapstick he uses. the kiss is deeply rooted in lust yet affection as well, he squeezes your waist in the lightest way possible.

“dazai!” you moan out, surprised when he bites your bottom lip teasingly.

“osamu.” he says through the kiss. “call me osamu.” and then he’s back to attacking you, hips rutting into yours.

you think you’ll pass out with how long he’s been kissing you but he eventually pulls away, leaving you gasping for air. he wastes little time, discarding his pants and helping you with yours, the desperation evident in his eyes as he stands before you in just his boxers and dress shirt. he looks like a crazed man who had been holding back for far too long.

once you’re free from the confines of clothing it allows him to truly feel you, his palm cupping your heat. he runs two fingers across your slit before prodding them at your entrance.

“so beautiful, everything about you is so beautiful.” he whispers, stopping his hand entirely.

“dazai.” you say again, sounding more desperate than before, it was even possible.

“osamu.” he corrects, his voice still soft but held hints of firmness.

you repeat his first name back to him and he finally slips two fingers into your cunt. his long fingers are able to reach parts inside of you that your own fingers can’t, the new length has you bucking your hips into his hand.

he lets out a muffled giggle but says nothing, his eyes watching the way you suck his fingers in with every thrust. he looks entranced by the sight, it leaves you feeling shy. you have no time to dwell on your embarrassment as he picks up his pace, along with adding a third digit to your already full pussy.

the stretch of the third finger and the change in pace has you throwing your head back, nails clawing at the table you were perched up against just to give yourself some sort of stability.

you feel your climax approaching quicker than you anticipated, shaking your head from the overstimulation. just before you were about to reach your high, it was ruined by a muffled ringing in dazai’s discarded pants. he pulls his fingers out of you in a swift motion, ignoring your whines of protest as he reaches to grab the phone from his pants pocket.

“hey boss.” he starts, his voice as quirky as ever.

you could hear fukuzawa’s irritated tone through the phone even if you couldn’t pick up his exact words. dazai simply hummed and nodded in agreement, even letting out an apology for the time wasted on a fake case. within just a few minutes the call was over, and dazai’s smile had grown even larger.

he ended the call with a sigh, a pout on his lips that told you he was definitely in trouble when you two got back to the agency. you wondered what excuse he’d give the boss, and what punishment he would receive for lying.

“i’m truly saddened to have to cut this short.” you knew he meant it, you gave him a smile.

“it’s okay, we’ll continue it tonight after we see what kind of hell fukuzawa is gonna put you through for this.” the promise of this continuing excited him, and for once he couldn’t wait to get back to the office to finish up his job.

he helped you put your pants back on before putting on his own, making sure your injury was still well taken care of. this time you don’t fight him even once, allowing him to assist you to the car that was waiting outside for the two of you.

[softonshanks]

Shanks x reader taking bath together! Something fluff ya know? (No need to be smut)

Hey Anon, thank you for this lovely request. I'm sorry if this took a bit long but I just fell in love with how this story could possibly take place, so I have added a few more details I hope you will enjoy. It's a bit longer that I expected, but I kinda like how it turned out. Thank you again, let me know if you like it in the comments and enjoy <3<3

A Soothing Surprise

Characters: Shanks x female reader Word count: 1922 words

The Red-Haired Pirates were anchored near a small, peaceful island, the kind where nothing much happened. Shanks had been walking a bit slower these days, grimacing now and then while pretending it was nothing. It wasn’t his first time dealing with an aching back, but this time felt different and no amount of rum, jokes, or teasing could ease the nagging pain. He had been feeling it for almost a week now. That dull, persistent ache in his back that seemed to remind him with every movement: you're not 20 anymore. His crew, ever the jokers, hadn't let him forget it either. They teased him relentlessly about "getting old," and while Shanks played along with his usual carefree smile, a part of him couldn't help but think about it. The once endless nights of drinking and partying were now followed by stiff mornings, and though he was still the infamous Red-Haired Shanks, there was no denying that time was catching up with him.

"You're getting old, Captain!" Yasopp had joked earlier that morning, throwing Shanks a knowing grin.

Shanks had laughed it off, but his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. He knew they weren’t wrong. Sure, he was still powerful, still strong, but he wasn’t in his twenties anymore, and sometimes the creaking bones reminded him of that fact. Normally, the banter and the drinking would lift his spirits, but tonight, even with the party in full swing on the deck, Shanks felt a little distant, a little thoughtful.

Shanks had always been the one to go out of his way to do things for his crew, whether it was helping Lucky Roo gather supplies, buying cigarettes for Benn, or giving Yasopp new can of oil to clean his gun. But who was doing something for him?

Y/N decided it was time to change that.

The next morning, as the ship docked at the island, Y/N had her plan ready. She had spent the previous night carefully writing out clues and stashing them in various places she knew Shanks would eventually find throughout the day.

The first clue was tucked neatly inside his favorite mug, the one he used for his morning coffee. Shanks, groggy but in good spirits, lifted the mug to take a sip, only for a small piece of paper to fall into his lap.

“Huh?” he said to himself, blinking down at the note. He opened it up and read:

"A Captain’s day starts with more than just brew. Check under the barrel where you stashed the new."

His brow furrowed, but a slow grin spread across his face. “What’s this all about?”

Intrigued, Shanks followed the clue to the ship's supply closet, where he had hidden some rare bottles of rum the week before. Sure enough, another note was waiting for him.

"You're warm now, Captain, but not yet done. Find the red flag, and you’ll be closer to the fun."

He scratched his head, chuckling to himself. “What’s that girl even up to?”, asked himself, perfectly knowing that it was all her doing. After all, Benn would have never set up a vicious game like this, while Y/N was just like him in some aspects: funny, always ready for a giggle, an eternal child ready to play.

He set off, following the clues she had hidden around the island. Each note was just vague enough to make him think, but not so hard that it was frustrating.

"Your treasure awaits, but first you must find, A place where the wind sings and the sun shines."

This clue led him to a windmill at the top of a hill, another to a quiet beach where the waves lapped gently at the shore, and another to an old oak tree that must have been standing for centuries. It was fun—simple and thoughtful—and he couldn’t help but feel lighter with every step he took. Finally, as the sun began to dip low in the sky, he found the final clue tucked under a smooth stone at the edge of a peaceful garden. It led him to a small, cozy inn nestled on the outskirts of the village. When he opened the door to the room, he found Y/N sitting on the bed, her legs crossed and a playful smile on her lips.

“Well, it’s about time you got here,” she teased, crossing her arms. “I was starting to think you’d gotten lost.”

Shanks blinked, looking around the room and trying to figure out what to do with her, alone, on a bed. “What’s all this, Y/N? What do you want me to do?”.

Y/N stood and motioned toward a small door at the side of the room. “Go take a look in the bathroom, Captain.”

Curious, Shanks pushed the door open and immediately burst out laughing. The bathroom was filled with the scent of lavender, and the tub was filled to the brim with warm water, bubbles, and flower petals. It looked like something straight out of a fancy spa, the kind Shanks would love to visit, but would never admit it.

“You even put up candles,” he pointed out, incapable of stopping his laugh. He turned to Y/N, amusement dancing in his eyes. “This is a bit girly for me, don’t you think?”

Y/N shrugged, unfazed. “Girly or not, it’ll help with your back”. Her Captain raised his eyebrow, not fully convinced. “Just get in the tub, Shanks," she shrugged as he smirked, peeling off his coat and shirt. "Alright, alright. But don’t blame me when you start swooning over my rugged pirate physique."

As he continued to undress, Y/N called out from the other room. "Leave your underwear on! We don’t need any... unexpected surprises." Shanks chuckled, unable to resist. "How do you know it’s a bad surprise?" He winked at her. "I’ve got a reputation to uphold, you know." Y/N laughed, shaking her head.

"This whole elaborate plan just to get my shirt off, huh?" he teased as he sank into the tub, letting the warm water envelop him.

Y/N perched herself on a stool behind him, her fingers gently pressing into his shoulders. "Nope, just trying to take care of the captain. Warm water and lavender should help with the tension. But honestly, if this whole treasure hunt was too complex for you, you could have just said so."

"Ah, it’s been a while since I’ve been challenged by something as intricate as finding a hidden inn," he teased. "But I have to admit, it’s doing the trick”. The warm water immediately started to soothe the ache in his back. He closed his eyes, sinking deeper into the tub, letting the lavender scent relax him even more. “Alright, how are you feeling so far?”, she asked hoping that her plan was working.

“Much better,” Shanks admitted, though whether it was the bath or her thoughtfulness, he wasn’t entirely sure.

“Good,” she said as she began to gently massage his shoulders. “This’ll help release some tension. The warm water and lavender should take care of the rest.”

Shanks let out a low groan of satisfaction. “Why are you doing all of this?”

Y/N chuckled. “You do stuff for us all the time. A wise captain once said a crew is like a family, a one’s burden is everybody’s burden”.

“Sounds like a smart captain, do I know him?,” he jokingly asked, catching his quote. “Don’t think so”, she answered while her hands kept massaging his toned shoulders. “This captain is always happy and smiley, instead you’ve been grumpy for a while.”

“Grumpy?” Shanks asked with mock offense. “I’m never grumpy.”

She snorted. “Sure, Captain. You’ve been grumbling and wincing for days.”

As her hands worked on his shoulders, Shanks felt the tension slowly melt away, and before long, he was feeling better than he had in days. Still, Y/N’s touch had a different effect on him too—one that was harder to ignore.

“Alright, I’m gonna give you some privacy now,” Y/N said after a few minutes. “Just wanted to make sure you were settled in.”

She stood, ready to leave, but Shanks caught her hand. “Wait, can you hand me a towel first?”

Y/N nodded and grabbed a towel from the nearby shelf. As she handed it to him, Shanks gave her a devilish grin and pulled the towel—and her—toward him with one swift tug.

Before Y/N could react, she lost her balance and tumbled forward, landing directly in the tub with Shanks.

Water splashed everywhere as Shanks burst out laughing, his chest heaving with mirth. Y/N, on the other hand, was mortified, her face flushed as she found herself lying against his bare chest.

“Shanks!” she gasped, trying to push herself up, but he only laughed harder.

“Hey, you’re the one who got me in this tub in the first place,” he teased. “Now you get to enjoy it too!”

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh along with him, her embarrassment fading as she realized how ridiculous the situation was. She wriggled slightly, trying to get comfortable. “This is not how I planned it to go.”

Shanks smirked. “Then maybe you should’ve planned better.”

After a beat, Shanks raised an eyebrow. “Well? You’ve already fallen in. Might as well stay.”

Y/N sighed dramatically. “Fine. But I’m keeping my shorts on.”

She reached up to peel off her soaked top, revealing her bra underneath. Shanks let out a low whistle. “Well, if I knew this was how the night was going to end, I would’ve had back pain ages ago.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t help but smile. “You’ve seen me in a bikini on the ship a hundred times.”

“Yeah,” Shanks said, his voice teasing, “but it’s always a pleasant surprise to be remembered of what you are hiding under you shirt”. She rolled her eyes, settling into the tub. "You’re impossible," she repeated, though this time there was a fondness in her voice. They sat together in comfortable silence, playing with the bubbles and petals floating in the water. He couldn’t help but taking some flower petals in his hand and letting it gently fall in her hair, making her giggle, her eyes shyly watching the water. The heat of the bath and the soothing scent of lavender wrapped around them like a warm blanket, and for the first time in a while, Shanks felt completely at ease.

Eventually, the water began to cool, and they reluctantly decided it was time to get out. As Shanks stood up and reached for a towel, he let out a soft grunt.

Y/N’s brow furrowed with concern. "Does it still hurt?" she asked, her voice soft. Shanks shook his head, grinning. "On the contrary, I feel amazing. And now I can’t use my back pain as an excuse to make you do this again."

Y/N laughed, tossing him another towel.

"Guess I’ll just have to come up with another excuse," Shanks smirked, wrapping the towel around his waist.

As they stepped out of the bathroom, the tension that had been weighing Shanks down for days had finally lifted. He felt lighter, freer, and though he might not have been 20 anymore, he realized that moments like these—shared with the people who cared about him—made aging feel a little less daunting. And as Y/N flashed him one last smile before heading to her room, Shanks couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, he was still young enough for a few more surprises in life.