#also what part of this makes her look that way to you. is it the paleness of her skin? how skinny and lanky she is?

[drgnflyteabox]

daddy cool ⋆˙⟡

john price x fem!reader summary: “I’m a producer,” he says, taking a long puff of his cigar, waiting, waiting, “and I scout talent.” ↪or the one in which hairy muscle daddy john price asks you to show him your skills disco style tags/warnings: 70s clubbing, body hair is a central theme, scent kink, daddy kink, deepthroating, rough oral (m), cigars, some alcohol, manipulation if you squint,vaginal fingering + sex, a bit of exhibition kink but not really at all (one line), 'little' not used as a size indicator, dom/sub, oral (f), tiny gape mention

“I think he’s interested in you,” Debbie whisper-screams in your ear. It’s hard to hear her over the boom of the drums, over the four on the floor beat and soaring voices. 

“Really?”

“Girl,” she laughs, incredulous. You look over your shoulder and sure enough he’s fixing you with a stare hot enough to burn through steel.

He’s flanked by two others, but you hardly notice them. You’re staring right into the deep V of his open shirt, at the fur peeking out of it, at the pink of his tongue as it swipes his bottom lip under his mustache. Sinful.

The booth he’s sitting in is draped with orange translucent curtains, creating some illusion of privacy. No overhead lights, either, just a soft cave and dark burgundy leather. Perfect for a bear like him.

“Should I go over there?” you whisper-scream back, curling closer to Debbie, “he’s a bonafide stud.”

She laughs, throwing her long hair over her shoulder, “yeah he is, and he’s looking at you, girl.”

You peek again. He’s smiling this time, like someone who knew you’d look twice. Beyond his shirt, his pants are so goddamn tight you can see almost everything. Christ, who let him out of the house looking like that?

“I’m gonna go over,” you say before you can stop yourself.

A saxophone disco beat booms through the club, thrumming right through you down to your toes, which you move to dance your way to him. Debbie laughs behind you, disappearing into the crowd.

Your hips go side to side, your teeth bite your bottom lip, and you fix him with what you hope is a clear message; you’re hot.

He stays exactly where he is. There’s a smugness about him now, the same smugness you saw when you looked twice.

You can’t really blame him for it. Someone that looks like that is bound to expect attention, desire.

God, he’s just your type. A quiet kind of arrogance, one arm slung over the back of the booth as he lifts a cigar up to his mouth and puffs. Lazily, like a big lion that knows he doesn’t have to hunt to get his food.

“Hello, love,” he says slowly when you get close enough. You’re still bouncing to the music, but you lean forward to hear him better.

“Interested in me, are you?” you’re going for a coy, simpering kind of approach. Something about him makes you want to lay it on thick, want to seduce. To preen a little.

His knuckles are dark in the lighting, hairy and tough like he works with his hands, which you catch as he pats the booth beside him. 

You hadn’t even noticed his companions leaving.

“Saw you dancing,” he lifts a glass from the table, dark liquid, his mustache getting wet, “thought you might be interested, too.”

“You thought right,” you slide in beside him, the leather seat cool even through your tight bootcut pants. You tilt your knees towards him, lifting an elbow to match his on the back of the booth.

Reds, yellows, oranges dance on his skin. The occasional sparkle of the disco ball peeks through, but mostly it filters through the orange booth curtains and spreads into an archipelago of little bright spots. This lighting agrees with him, accentuates the best parts, makes them look darker and more defined. You’d feel like a pervert looking down his shirt if he wasn’t also doing the same to you.

“Name’s John, love,” and when you tell him yours he says, “that’s fitting.”

“So, what do you do?” boring, typical– but it’s all you’ve got. You’re surprised you can get words out at all with the drool pooling in your mouth. This close, you can see how his shirt strains where his shoulders move. A little too small, but it’s probably on purpose.

Should be illegal, honestly.

His eyes crinkle in the corners. He’s the kind of guy whose entire face changes when he smiles, who looks disarmingly more approachable that way.

“I’m a producer,” he says, taking a long puff of his cigar, waiting, waiting, “and I scout talent.”

“Talent?” you cross one leg over the other, trilling internally with satisfaction when you see his eyes fall to your thighs.

You know you aren’t being subtle in the least– and you aren’t trying to be. But you won’t say anything outright, not yet, not while the anticipation feels this tasty.

The booth isn’t private, but it is insulated. The music is loud, but not too loud, just enough that it thrums through you, that you can hear him. Anita Ward croons in your ear, encouraging you. He can ring your bell, that’s for sure.

“That’s right,” he puffs again. The smell makes you lightheaded.

“Moviestars, you mean?” you roll your ankle around, watching him watch you, wondering if he likes the polish colour you picked. 

You like that he’s visibly affected; licking his lips, that meaty hand climbing higher up his thigh.

“Something like that, love,” he smiles again, leans back in the booth and launches a counter attack to your leggy flirtations – he spreads those legs, feet pointed out, hunched just so that his belly starts poking out of those sinfully tight pants.

Motherfucker.

Looking back up at him, his eyes are crinkled at you, head tilted forward. He knows exactly what he’s doing.

“Which movies have you produced?” you lean your head on your hand, looking at him through your lashes, “anything I’ve seen?”

“I hope so,” he hums. His eyes flit down to your feet again, up to your midriff, then back to your eyes– it’s hot, but it’s also not just a flirtation. He’s assessing, “have you seen Swan Lady? The Nun and the Two Vikings?”

You frown, “no, I haven’t heard of either.”

“How about Call of Duty: Servicing the Captain?”

Ah, it clicks. Your eyebrows go up, into your hairline, “you make pornos?”

“Aye, smart girl,” he gruffs.

Pornos, huh. You could laugh– he looks the part. A little sleazy, unabashed. Masculine not to the point of parody but it’s close. The ‘stache is in style, but in combination with everything else is just the cherry on top.

You only have one question, “you don’t star in any?”

“I prefer working behind the scenes,” something about the way he says behind feels filthy.

John tells all. He does scout, finds girls who want to have a good time (like you), and gently (or so he says) nudges them in front of the camera. I can always sniff ‘em out, he says. The ones that’ll do well on film, that have star quality.

“How can you tell?” you ask, lips pulling on your straw. John has ordered you a tequila sunrise.

You can’t help but trace the skin of his neck with your eyes, roving at the bob of his Adam's apple as he explains. Girls who can take the gloves off, so to speak. Says he can tell by the way they move, how free they are with their bodies.

A little dubious, but it’s honestly doing it for you. You wonder what he saw when you danced up to him, if the sway of your body was free, liberated.

Doesn’t take long at all for him to invite you out either way. John puts his hand on your knee and squeezes, gets real close, gruffs that his place is nearby.

“What do you say, sweetheart?” and of course the only answer is yes, please.

Boney M. soars around you as you follow him out, your hand holding his, your fingers stroking the hairs on his knuckles. 

She’s crazy for her daddy!

On the drive over, he keeps that big paw on your thigh, squeezing almost subconsciously. Just the flex of his fingers.

You widen your knees, hoping for that rough palm to slide upwards, glancing at John as he drives one-handed. Not your first rodeo going home with a man from the disco, but it sure is the first time you’ve felt so keyed up about it.

He’s huge, takes up an absurd amount of room in the car, knee knocking into yours. He even drives sexy, so sure and in control.

“You think I could be in one of your movies?” you say, impish, looking to provoke.

John glances at you for just a second too long, too intense. You can tell he’s picturing you in front of the cameras.

“That what you want?”

“Just picturing it,” you simper, shifting your knee to deliberately touch him again. His fingers flex against your thigh again, jaw moving.

The air is warm, breezy, lights passing by like twinkling firebugs. You roll your window down, smiling at the feeling.

“Oh you're picturing it, are you? Is that making you wet, sweetheart?”

Fuck. It certainly is now.

“Only if you can be my co-star.”

“Is that right?” he laughs, low and deep. His hand climbs higher, “‘fraid I’m just the recruiter, but I’ll have to do a quality test.”

“Quality test?”

“Mm,” he hums, “need to make sure you’re ready for the camera, don’t I? You think you’ve got star quality, then prove it.”

Your panties are sticky.

“I can do that,” you breathe.

“Yeah? Can you prove you can show off your star quality for me, sweetheart?” his fingers slide, achingly slow, to the gusset of your pants, “that you can look into that camera and show the world you’re a good girl?”

They press against you, right up against your clit through the fabric. You fight to stay still, to not come across like you’re desperate, but god it’s hard. You ache.

“Mhm,” you breathe, subtly tilting your hips forward as he idly pets your pussy.

“Not an answer,” he says firmly. Butterflies dance in your stomach, the air slowly being siphoned out, leaving you hot and bothered. John is barely affected, it seems, driving still, gliding through the night.

“Sorry,” you swallow, “I can do that, daddy.”

“Much better.”

“Still want to prove it to me, love?” he moves to a glass cabinet, pulling out a little box. It opens with a click, revealing a neat row of thick cigars.

“Yes,” you stand in the middle of his living room, appreciating the atmosphere he’s made; low lighting, oranges, reds everywhere. Brown leather and the heady smell of cigar smoke, of leather polish and an incense-y kind of musk.

He walks back towards you, brand new cigar between his fingers, steps heavy on the carpet. You’re made aware of the height difference when he stands right in front of you, looking down not unkindly.

Your skin prickles at his gaze, the same one from the club; that assessment. Like he’s measuring you, testing you, scanning you.

John leans forward, breath puffing lightly across your face. He smells like his house does, only there’s a bit of whiskey mixed in.

You can’t help but squirm just a little, thighs rubbing together, both to relieve the pulsing ache of your pussy and that it’s impossible to stay composed under that gaze.

“Drop down,” he says finally, “to your knees, sweetheart.”

From your knees, you get a good fucking look at those tight pants– at the bulge in them. The hair on his chest sticks out a little, too, peeking at you from above. Hot. So hot.

“Comfortable?”

“Yes, daddy,” you bite your lip again.

“Keep those hands down, alright?” he leans to the side and picks up a cigar lighter, watching you as he lights up.

John stands over you, new cigar lit, plumes of smoke drifting from his fingers. His expression is neutral, though he hums in a pleased way as he strokes the softness of your cheek.

“Take me out,” he commands.

You lean forward with your mouth, unable to resist giving him a good long sniff before you pull at his zipper with your teeth. He smells good, musky and strong, a little cologne there but mostly it’s natural.

When your teeth gently take his briefs, pulling, he cups the back of your head with a big hand and strokes your hair.

“Are you going to take it all, sweetheart? Right down your throat?”

You let his cock flop out of his underwear, heavy. The bush surrounding it makes your mouth water. It looks so good, long and a little curved, bouncing as if it’s teasing you.

You nod finally, hands squeezed into fists in your lap just the way he asked, “yes, daddy.”

“That’s my girl. Are you going to give daddy’s cock a little kiss first?”

You lean forward, lips pursed, planting a little kiss on the mushroom head of his cock. Though you ache to lick your lips, to taste him, you wait.

“That’s a good little girl,” he murmurs, “open your mouth.”

You do, holding your tongue out.

He grips the base, holding his cock up, tapping your tongue with the head. You almost whine, before he grips your head firmer and holds you still so he can slide the entire length of that monster right to the back of your throat.

Your nose hits his pubic bone, buried in the coarse hairs there, overwhelmed, hands balling into fists.

“That’s right,” he grunts, “hold it right there, sweetheart, show me you’ve got what it takes.”

God, he’s all the way in, a perfect fit. You try to stay still, anchoring yourself to him, to his palm, to the possibility of hearing good girl.

You gag a little, coughing around him, tears burning at your eyes as drool plip plops onto your chest.

Finally, he pulls out, stroking your hair, “good girl, such a good girl. Ready?”

“Yes,” you garble around the heady of his cock, clit swollen and needy, hands pressing hard into your thighs, “please fuck my face, daddy.”

He does, his pistoning, fucking your mouth like it’s a cunt. His hand cradles the back of your head, pushing you, hips moving, grunting when he’s not taking the occasional puff of his cigar.

You throb in your panties, body scorching hot, gagging every so often around the thick meat of John’s cock. Drool falls in viscous strings, tears following, the world dropping away. 

Nothing else but the slide of his cock in and out of your mouth exists, matters.

“That’s it, that’s it,” he pants raggedly.

You have no idea how long he lasts, only that when he’s finished you're an absolute mess. Wet faced and panting.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, wiping the tears from your cheeks with his rough thumbs. You look up at him through your clumped lashes, mouth open, “did so well for me, hm?”

“Thank you, daddy,” your voice is a little gravelly, but not painful.

John pulls you up with a hand at your bicep, walking you down a hallway off his living room and towards an open door. 

It’s his bedroom– and it’s decorated exactly as you’d imagined it.

The bed is huge, kingsized with a radio inlay and a thick, padded headboard that extends all around the mattress in a kind of cradle. His sheets are silk, dark, and dark orange.

“Nice digs,” you laugh, “you sure you aren’t a pornstar?”

He laughs behind you, setting his lit cigar into the ashtray on the bedside table. He slowly strips out of his clothes, getting totally naked. Then he slides in, and leans back.

“Give me a show, sweetheart.”

You hum, swaying again. You aren’t a pro at this kind of stuff, but it’s fun regardless to pull your shirt up and over your head like you’re a dirty dancer.

“Like this, daddy?”

John hums.

You slowly slide your pants down, turning so he can watch your ass move, kicking them away. You hear the slick sounds of him jerking his cock as you do.

“Should I take my panties off?” you ask, thumbs slipping into the elastic.

“Yes, take them off,” he grunts, “turn around.”

You do, then slowly slip your panties off. He licks his bottom lip again, quick.

“Come here.”

You slide onto the bed, on your knees, then crawl forward until you’re beside him, where he pushes you to lay on your side.

His heavy palm finds the naked skin of your hip, squeezing, “still want to show me your star power, sweetheart?”

“Yes, daddy,” you’re back in it, eyes half lidded. Your pussy is making a wet spot on your thighs, “I wanna show you.”

He pushes you to your back, slaps your thighs until you open your legs and hold them out. Then he pauses, hand at the junction of your thigh and hip, thumb inching towards your pussy.

“Look how wet you are, sweetheart,” he murmurs.

You clench, tilting your hips up. Your clit throbs.

“Ah ah, get back down,” he tuts.

Your ass touches the bed again, hips forced down by sheer willpower. His thumb finally reaches you, pulling aside your pussylip to gaze at your wetness.

It gushes out of you, and you’re sure he can see the way your hole clenches.

“Desperate little cunt, isn't she?” he uses his other hand, two two fingers coming to pull the hood of your clit up and just watch as it jumps needily, “awe, poor thing.”

“Please, daddy,” you could cry, “please, touch me.”

“Touch where, love? Touch this needy little clit?”

“Yes, please!”

“Well, since you asked so nicely,” he abandons holding you open to bring his thumb to your exposed clit, rubbing in circles. You shout, a tremor immediately beginning. It’s too much and not enough at once, electric and icy-hot.

Then he slips those fingers inside you, slow and testing at first, but when he realizes just how wet and soft you are he curls them inside you deeply and oh, fuck, your eyes roll back into your head.

“That’s the spot, that’s it,” he grunts, shaking you, taking you apart.

John only fingers you long enough to let your wetness spill out of you, wetting your thighs, soaking his fingers– until you’re ready for his cock.

“You’re ready,” he lays the length of it against your pussy for a moment, letting your swollen lips hug his length, before he shifts back and nudges the head at your hole, “yeah, you’re ready for it.”

He stuffs you fucking full. You’ve never been so stuffed in your life, thankful for his diligent attention earlier or you might be really feeling the weight of him.

“Oh, fuck,” you gasp, back arching, nipples rubbing against his chest hair. It sparks pleasure from your tits right down your cunt, body aflame, hands scratching through the hair at his back.

It’s like fucking a bear, or a werewolf. He’s relentless, too, without mercy. Plows into you hard and long, thrusts measured, never faltering.

John fucks like a pornstar, there’s no doubt about it. He takes up so much space on top of you that without his arms holding him up you worry about being crushed– you crave it, too.

“Good fucking girl,” he snarls, lip curling, mustache going with it, “want to be on camera, do ya? Let me hear you.”

You let loose, mouth open in one long drawn out sound, interposed only by the gasps you let out each time he hits you deep.

You tilt your head back, bearing your throat, taking each heavy thrust and crying out with them, squeezing around him.

“I’m gonna give it all to you, sweetheart, fuck,” he snaps his hips faster now, “and you’re gonna take it all like a star.”

You nod desperately, feeling his pubes each time he thrusts to the hilt, wet with your juices. You’re so fucking close, one breath to your clit and you’d lose your mind.

He straightens, hands going to your hips, tightening, as he snaps one, two, three times and tenses–

His head snaps back, neck bulging with veins as he comes, teeth bared in a growl as he curses, “fuck, good girl, that’s right– good fucking pussy–”

Hot come shoots inside, heating you up further, making you whine with frustration and satisfaction both.

When the taut line of his body relaxes and he pulls out, a flood of come following him, he slides to his stomach and spreads you open with his thumbs.

“Let daddy make it up to you, sweetheart,” he murmurs to your pussy, “he’s not usually so selfish.”

John looks down first. Your pussy is swollen, well-fucked, and you can feel a slight gape.

“Poor little pussy,” he murmurs, then seals his mouth over your clit until you fall apart.

“You sure you aren’t a pornstar?” your cheek is pressed to his chest, basking in the furriness, arm and leg thrown over his body.

He laughs, “I’m sure, sweetheart. But I will say–” he pauses to lean down and kiss the corner of your mouth, mustache still damp, “you’ve definitely got star quality.”

[viridescentelf]

Yandere elf x reader - Valentine’s Day

happy valentine‘s day y‘all 👽

Silas Character and Art belongs to @meo-eiru pls go to her and tell she‘s the queen of yandere

since so many peeps asked for more Silas smut, here‘s him „cleaning“ you. Don‘t know how lore accurate this is so pls forgive me if i missed something! i also didn‘t really proof-read so oops 😶‍🌫️

Warnings: 18+, dubcon, noncon, oral sex, general nsfw

—————

His long tongue lapped up your sweet and sour juices. You squirmed, both from the explosive pleasuring scale and his firm grip on your wrists.

You had been telling him about the concept of Valentine‘s Day (some true and untrue things because you could), as he thought it was only humans named Valentine that could celebrate their love on this manufactured holiday. Understanding that it meant showing love to anyone you feel deeply towards - even mothers - Silas hurried to remedy his misunderstanding.

You had never seen the elf change that quickly before. He had adorned some kind of elven festive garb and placed several beautiful flowers in his own and your hair (you watched him from the window scurry around the garden to find them), weaving the stems neatly (and fast) into your strands.

He then asked what humans traditionally did on Valentine‘s Day. You mentioned flowers, chocolates and date nights - trying to skirt around the topic of sex - by using the word „cuddling“. It was something you didn‘t really mind with him, he was extremely cozy to lean into, his soft muscles giving ample cushioning, even if he didn‘t let go of you unless you needed to pee.

Your eyes had followed Silas running into the kitchen and frantically throwing ingredients together to make pralines and chocolates. The house smelled amazing. He hectically returned to the living room where you were reading, chocolate smeared all over his dopy face, to ask if you preferred strawberry or raspberry. You had only gotten to „rasp-„ before he quickly turned to finish his craft.

You had thought this wasn‘t half bad. It was really entertaining watching him cook, bake and decorate with the speed of a doom‘s day dad preparing for the end of the world.

A few hours had passed. Silas had picked you up from the couch and carried you quickly to the dinner table, where he had lit so many candle that you had to blink rapidly through the blinding light. The chocolates were all individually wrapped and adorned with sweet messages. The food he cooked looked amazing, but it was frankly hard to see all of the details through the flickering little fires. Silas placed you on his lap and fed you everything, beyond your stomach‘s ability and despite you saying that you were full.

Feeling woozy from the excess food, you lay catatonic in his arms as every squeeze within the cuddle session made you even more nauseous.

„My darling! I love you I love you I love you I love you!“

He peppered kisses on you as you tried to focus on not throwing up. His kisses helped, whatever was in his weird saliva simultaneously healed you while you knew he was trying to prepare you for what he wanted next.

He hadn‘t cleaned you yet. You had tried to distract him with various other Valentine‘s Day traditions (some of which you made up, like how the greatest act of love is having to do an interpretive dance outside with twigs in your mouth which you watched with absolute glee), but he never missed this part of the day regardless of how hard you tried to get him off schedule. He was relentless that way.

You were still too full to move. He knew this.

Laying you out on the bed, you watched him remove your trousers and underwear. The ravenous glare in his eye always threw you off, every time. It was so menacing and filled with what felt like eons of pent up desire that it shut you up instantly.

His green eyes shimmered as he saw you leaking already, ready for him because of his aphrodisiac sputum and whatever else he added to your meal and chocolates.

He never really told you what he gave you.

What would it matter? You couldn‘t stop him anyway.

Silas‘s head lowered and you instinctively raised your arms to try to push his head away. He grabbed them so fast and held them down onto the soft mattress, that your arms sank deeper into the cushioning.

„There, there…let mama clean you up…“

His grip didn‘t hurt, but it was like cement blocks lying on top of your hands. There was no way you could get them out.

He kissed you. Your body squirmed slowly in response, because it just felt so marvelous. The tongue wreathed out of his smiling lips and traced you, mapping out its course. Your back arched expectingly, but he took his time, breathing his temperate air onto you - warning of the incoming impact.

Silas’ long tongue punched into you and you let out a deep rooted moan you had never heard yourself make before. It snaked through your walls like the invader it was and you felt his hands shake with his own pleasure.

He lapped everything up, your water flooding out of you uncontrollably without a stop in sight.

His mouth wrapped around you and sucked gently, every pop from the release making your spine curl even further. The stinging tingling clenching fiercely and surrounding your entire lower body, every lick, kiss and suction pushing your further.

You climaxed many times, from the penetration and from his feverish licking, every new flick causing your hips to convulse furiously.

He was saying something, but you couldn‘t hear with dark moans escaping your throat. He quickly returned to his task, letting you grow weaker with every orgasm.

You knew hours passed, because the light from the window was dimming. He had feasted on you for so long that the mattress was soaked.

Finally letting up, happy with his cleaning job, he pulled you up into a seated position while his growth pointed like a dagger at your face, his tall stature looming over you.

He huffed, as his giant hand caressed your cheek. Your exhausted eyes stared up at him.

„M-milking time darling…“

[emptymanuscript]

I admit I'm on the fence about AI in general... well, on the I have never used it and am not sure if I ever should but I've got the deep fear of missing out side.

But in the context of learning, it strikes me as falling in the same landscape as a calculator or Excel. I use a calculator or (actually more commonly) Excel to do any math because I'm not particularly good at math and never really have been.

BUT

When I was growing up, you did NOT get to use a calculator until you knew how to calculate. This was not a thing to make us suffer or just make life more difficult.

I also had stupid tests where I had to solve 100 math problems in 3 minutes, and I'm not about to argue that was good for me, helped me, or should be inflicted on subsequent generations.

I had to learn how to calculate BECAUSE of the above. If YOU don't know how to calculate, then it is impossible to tell if the calculator gave you the correct answer or not.

Back when I used to post to r/excel, I used to get flack for not showing the "EFFICIENT" way to solve problems but instead would show things step by step. But this is the same thing. If you do things in a big complicated group, you either get the right answer or the wrong answer. If you do things step by step you can CHECK your answer step by step and see if they make sense.

Do I need to know how to do 87^2 in my head in 30 seconds or less? No. I really don't. But I do need to know what is going on and why it is happening.

87^2 = 7,569 is great for a calculator to do. The calculator absolutely can do it faster than most people can. But if I just plug in 87^2 and get 689, how do I verify it? How do I check? Can I even realize, hmmm, that doesn't look quite right. Are my functions all right?

Knowing what is going on is the insurance for that. I can probably catch that, oh, I was trying to use a clever trick and forgot some steps.

The answer isn't all that is important.

And yes, it absolutely can make you dumber. Like I got to hear a discussion between two lecturers I really liked. And one just went off on a tangent and the other was clearly wondering why the hell she was there, this isn't science. BUT because I knew the details of how they were both dealing with the basic problem they were talking about - current science not being able to successfully predict certain phenomenon without numbers to fudge the situation that represent things that can't be proven independently of the need to fudge the numbers - I was able to follow the miscommunication while they, themselves, could not. His tangent made perfect sense in the context of his field of interest and made zero sense in hers. And if all you have the answers with no information of how you got to them, there's zero way to connect "I think the Sun might be conscious" and "I think half of the standard model is based on incorrect assumptions." They were in fact talking about the same things and differing solutions but there's no way to align that without talking about the assumptions, which needs to be laid out in order to UNDERSTAND the answer.

And struggling with my FOMO on writing, there's the basic truth that the reason I fear like I'm missing out is in part because I AM an expert. I have a graduate degree in TEACHING creative writing. I know my shit. So if I ask ChatGPT or whatever to spit out a scene for me, I not only can tell if it is good or bad, I can explain WHY it is good or bad and what needs to be done to improve it. I have zero fear of amateurs asking ChatGPT to spit out a novel for them and getting a novel of quality that I will be competing with. I am scared of people with enough knowledge of how writing works and knowledge of how ChatGPT creating the equivalent situation of me doing long division on paper while they're plugging the equations into a calculator.

A calculator, used as a tool, by someone who understands what they're doing, can do calculations faster and with less errors than someone who also understands what they're doing but isn't using a calculator. But it's not the difference of one being able to do it and another not. It's a difference of speed and accuracy.

It's an entirely different set up when it's someone who understands what they're doing versus someone who doesn't. You can give someone who doesn't know what they're doing all the tools in the world and it will still take them longer and produce an inferior product because they can't understand what they're doing.

And that's the basic problem with using ChatGPT for education. Yes, it can give you an answer. But because you don't know how, you simply have to trust that it is the correct answer. With no way to double check, no way to gauge, and no way to adjust the workflow to better suit your needs.

It absolutely is shooting themselves in the foot. Because school is the point where access to help with process and WHY things work the way to do is easiest to get. It does simply get harder to find the farther away from educational opportunities you get. And when you need it to work isn't the best time to be trying to figure out what you're really doing instead of already having that education and skill under your belt.

It's also relying on the fatal assumption that tomorrow is going to look like yesterday. My earliest datable memory is June 1st 1982. The world is so profoundly different in February 13th 2025, that I am very comfortable promising you that the idea that you can depend on the world looking the same for your entire life WILL get you into trouble because that's simply not the way the world works. Certainly not now. The assumption that it is safe to use ChatGPT now because you will always be able to use ChatGPT is a set up for failure. Will there always be tools? Yes. Will you know how to get future tools to work the same way as ChatGPT? Probably not. I grew up using Dos and then Window's machines. These days, the programs are so different, I find it easier to use a Mac instead of learning the new way that Windows does things.

If you rely on a particular tool solving a problem for you in a way you don't understand beyond that tool giving you the answer, you will be relearning the tool every large iteration. And eventually it will be different enough that it will set you back. That you will essentially be starting from nearly scratch. And then what? If you don't know what kind of answer you should get, how are you going to know if you're using that new tool correctly because some engineer decided that it is more efficient to move in a different direction?

Even novels have changed over the course of my life. Every book I've read that was published in the last 15 years breaks fundamental rules I was taught back in the early 90's. The conventions that I would have insisted that ChatGPT follow have changed. But if I didn't know WHY those conventions existed how would I even know? How would I adjust? Why would it even occur to me that I needed to adjust? ChatGPT sure doesn't know.

That's probably fine if it's just something you're doing for fun.

But if it is your job? Getting things wrong can be the difference between keeping that job and going hungry. It is not a good idea to be utterly dependent on your tools. Tools are to make what you're doing easier, not to do the task for you all together.

Yeah, just don't. The grades are not as important as what you will be able to do (or not be able to do) later in life. And sometimes that later can be a LOT sooner than you anticipate. I watched a LOT of people wash out or nearly wash out of college because they didn't know the whys and hows of what they were doing academically. I saw straight A students flunk out because they just learned the cheat or because their schools were crap and only taught one way to do things or taught nothing at all and just let the cards fall. I had a good friend who came in with a 4.2 GPA and nearly flunk out because she wasn't taught basic skills I had gotten in middle school.

Which was intentional.

Because she was black and poor and I wasn't.

Her schooling was designed to fail her because the best way to make sure someone as smart as her STAYED black and poor was to let her fly without ever teaching her the skills to do better when she needed to. And she was damned smart. And she worked damned hard. And she pulled through and got a master's before I did. But she was in the extreme minority and had a lot of help and still slid through by the skin of her teeth. Most people in her position crashed and burned and ended up WORSE off than they started. Which is great for the powers that be because it makes them a demonstration of why you shouldn't even try. It shows that society is stacked against you. Because it is. Because it is designed to fail.

Understand that ChatGPT is the same set up. It will make things easier. For now. It will give you the answers. It will work. Until it hits the level it can't anymore. And that WILL happen. It is inevitable. And then you have no supports and you ARE going to crash and burn.

There is a reason that ChatGPT is cheap and being forced on everyone. It is controlled by the people who are being served by the current societal structure.

Are you being served? Are you sure? Because if there is ANYTHING about you they can benefit by crushing, washing you out, setting you out to sacrifice, they're going to do it. Anything that is free in our society is a tool to make YOU the product. And they're damn good at doing it. So think long and hard about using that tool when they have so much history and investment in making you crap out for their benefit. Don't rely on them to save you.

I just started grad school this fall after a few years away from school and man I did not realize how dire the AI/LLM situation is in universities now. In the past few weeks:

I chatted with a classmate about how it was going to be a tight timeline on a project for a programming class. He responded "Yeah, at least if we run short on time, we can just ask chatGPT to finish it for us"

One of my professors pulled up chatGPT on the screen to show us how it can sometimes do our homework problems for us and showed how she thanks it after asking it questions "in case it takes over some day."

I asked one of my TAs in a math class to explain how a piece of code he had written worked in an assignment. He looked at it for about 15 seconds then went "I don't know, ask chatGPT"

A student in my math group insisted he was right on an answer to a problem. When I asked where he got that info, he sent me a screenshot of Google gemini giving just blatantly wrong info. He still insisted he was right when I pointed this out and refused to click into any of the actual web pages.

A different student in my math class told me he pays $20 per month for the "computational" version of chatGPT, which he uses for all of his classes and PhD research. The computational version is worth it, he says, because it is wrong "less often". He uses chatGPT for all his homework and can't figure out why he's struggling on exams.

There's a lot more, but it's really making me feel crazy. Even if it was right 100% of the time, why are you paying thousands of dollars to go to school and learn if you're just going to plug everything into a computer whenever you're asked to think??

[bytemee]

can u write a oneshot where mean!sorority!karina x loser!g!p!reader and reader goes out of town for a lego convention or some nerd shit and karina's like "ok lol" barely replying to their texts

but then reader sends selfies looking kinda good and suddenly karina's not so mean anymore (but she's acting like she doesn't care) and later she's in bed lowkey staring at reader's pics when reader calls and starts yapping about legos all excited while karina listens way too hard. somehow this leads to phone sex 🫣

CYBER SEX — YU JIMIN.

"wish you were here right now, all of the things i'd do."

synopsis. karina swears she doesn’t miss you. not even a little. if her puppy wants to ditch her for some dumb lego convention, that’s your loss. okay...maybe letting you leave was a mistake… but at least she can have some fun making you miss her.

pairing. mean!sorority!karina x loser!gp!reader

warning(s). 18+ (smut), phone sex (duhhhh), g!p reader, pet names (karina calling u puppy ofc), bad writing, and let me know if there's more!

words. 2k

authors note. mean!sorority!karina is so awesome sauce man. i also forgot my own schedule dates.. i apologize.

part one. part two. part four. headcannons. navigation. main masterlist.

karina wasn't mad. she wasn't.

so what if her puppy had ditched town for some stupid lego convention? it wasn't like she cared. she had better things to do than think about you running around, geeking out over plastic blocks.

her sorority sisters, however, were testing her patience. 

"she didn't even tell you until last minute?" giselle smirked over her drink. 

"sounds like someone got ditched," winter added.

"i didn't get ditched." karina rolled her eyes, scrolling through her messages. your last text had been two hours ago—a simple just got here! it's so cool, you'd love it if you gave it a chance :(  to which she had responded with a dry, doubt it. 

and that was it. that was all you were getting from her. if you wanted to act like a loser, that was your problem.

"didn't get ditched," winter mocked under her breath, earning a laugh from ningning.karina threw them a glare before pushing up from the couch, phone clutched in her hand. "i'm going to bed."

she ignored their knowing smirks as she stormed up the stairs to her room, locking the door behind her. 

her phone buzzed just as she flopped onto her bed, and against her better judgment, she checked it immediately.

puppy: look!! isn't it so cute?? :D

attached were three selfies of you grinning with some ridiculously detailed lego set in the background. your glasses were slightly askew, your hoodie a little too big, and your excitement was practically radiating off the screen. 

karina clicked on one of the pictures, zooming in just a little. not because she missed you. not because she thought you looked cute. just... because. 

another text popped up. 

puppy: there's this one panel tomorrow about rare discontinued sets, you think i should go? 

she bit her lip, hesitating before replying.

karina: do whatever you want. 

she stared at her screen for a moment before sighing and tossing her phone onto her pillow. 

she wasn't jealous. she wasn't annoyed. she wasn't—

her phone buzzed again.

puppy: you're so mean ;(

a smirk twitched at her lips.

before she could respond, her phone started ringing. you.

she exhaled sharply before answering, keeping her voice bored. "what?"

"okay, so—listen." your voice came through, breathless with excitement. "i got to see so many cool sets today. like, there was this one display of the millennium falcon that was massive, and i swear, if i had the money, i'd—"

she hummed, pretending to listen as you rambled on about your day. but she was listening. more than she wanted to admit. she could practically picture you, pacing in your hotel room, waving your hands around as you talked a mile a minute.

"like i said, you'd think it's cool if you were here," you muttered, and she could hear the pout in your voice.

"don’t think so."

you groaned. "you're impossible."

she smirked. "and you're a nerd."

"i am not—"

she could hear the shuffle of you moving around, probably flopping onto your bed. then, a pause. your voice was quieter when you spoke again. "you miss me?"

karina rolled onto her back, staring at the ceiling. she could lie. she could say no. but instead, she muttered, "not really."

you laughed, soft and knowing. "liar."

she closed her eyes, gripping her phone tighter. maybe she was. but she'd never admit it.

not yet, anyway.

karina sighed, rolling onto her side as she let your voice fill the quiet of her room. it was late, and she should have been asleep already, but instead, she was still listening to you ramble about legos of all things—like some lovesick idiot.

not that she was one.

"i swear, some of these sets were insane," you continued, voice slightly muffled like you were getting comfortable. "there was this one star wars display with over ten thousand pieces. can you imagine? ten thousand."

"hm," she hummed, only half-listening now. she was too busy staring at the selfies you'd sent earlier, swiping through them like she hadn't already memorized every detail.

she could hear you shifting again, the sound of fabric rustling against fabric, a small sigh escaping your lips. "kinda wish you were here, though. feels weird without you making fun of me."

karina smirked, rolling onto her back. "i'd make fun of you either way, puppy."

you laughed, soft and breathy. "i know. but still."

a beat of silence stretched between you, comfortable but charged. karina exhaled slowly, her fingers tracing idle circles against her stomach.

"so..." your voice had dropped slightly, quieter, more hesitant. "what are you doing?"

"lying down," she murmured. "thinking."

"about?"

she bit her lip, debating. she could keep playing it cool, keep pretending she wasn't fazed by you being miles away. but she was tired, and her walls were lower than usual, and you sounded so damn cute on the other end of the line.

"...you."

you inhaled sharply. "oh."

a smirk pulled at her lips. she could hear the way you tensed up, the way your breath hitched, and it sent a slow wave of satisfaction through her.

"what, puppy?" she teased, her voice dropping into something lower, something smug. "cat got your tongue?"

you swallowed audibly. "no, i just—"

she hummed, tilting her head back against the pillow. "you're cute when you're flustered, you know that?"

another pause. a shaky exhale.

"karina..."her smirk deepened, fingers idly tracing patterns against her skin. "what's wrong, puppy? you miss me that bad?"

you made a small, frustrated noise on the other end, and karina chuckled, knowing exactly where this was heading.

maybe letting you leave town had been a mistake. but at least now, she could have a little fun reminding you exactly who you belonged to. she bit her lip as she slipped her hand into her shorts, trailing her fingers between her thighs. 

her voice dropped lower, more sultry, more teasing. "use your words, puppy. tell me how much you miss me."

she could hear your breathing pick up, ragged and uneven. "i-i miss you. god, i miss you so much."

a small hum of satisfaction escaped her. you gulped at the sound, your shaky hands fumbling to unbutton your jeans. "i want you," you whined, your voice dropping to a whisper. "i wanna be back there with you."

"yeah?" she asked, a smile pulling at her lips. "and what would you do if you were here?"

she knew the answer, of course, but she wanted to hear you say it. she wanted to hear the way your voice would waver and crack as you finally gave in, finally told her exactly what you wanted.

you whimpered, your hands wrapping around yourself as you imagined her touch. "i'd kiss you," you admitted, your breath hitching. 

karina's smirk deepened, her fingers sliding through her own slick. "where?"

"everywhere," you breathed.

she bit her lip, heat coiling in her stomach. she wanted to tell you to get your ass back here, to come crawling on your knees, to beg her to forgive you for leaving her alone like this. but she knew she was too prideful for that, and besides, she couldn't help but find a bit of amusement in the fact that you were getting yourself off, miles away, just to the sound of her voice.

“you touching yourself, puppy?" she asked, her voice low and teasing.

"mhm," you nodded weakly, even though she couldn't see you. you were breathing hard, your hand moving faster, your chest heaving as you lost yourself in the sound of her voice.

karina could hear the way your breath hitched with each stroke, could hear the way your voice went shaky each time she spoke. she loved it, and not in the usual possessive sense you'd expect from her. no, there was something almost tender in the way she teased you, in the way she kept you wanting.

"god, you're so easy," she murmured.

"please," you whimpered, your voice cracking slightly. "i-i wanna hear you."

karina tilted her head back, her breath catching in her throat. you were always so needy, so desperate for her, and god, she loved it. she loved hearing the way your voice would get hoarse and strained, loved the way you'd beg and plead with her to give you more.

"puppy..." she moaned, "you sound so fucking good." a finger slipped into her heat, curling up and dragging along her walls.

"please," you whimpered again, your hand moving faster. "i need to hear you. need to know if you're touching yourself too."

you could hear her gasp on the other end of the line, and you pictured her, eyes closed, back arched as she pressed down into the touch of her own fingers. you let out a jagged exhale, your whole body trembling with the effort of holding back. she was so gorgeous, and even if you weren't there with her, just hearing her like this was enough to drive you crazy.

"are you?" you asked again, a little more desperately this time.

"fuck, yes," she breathed. "i am."

"fuck." your grip tightened around your phone. "i-i bet you look so pretty right now. bet you feel so good."

"so fucking good, puppy." she was moaning openly now, another finger slipping into her slick heat. karina imagined what it would be like to have you back here, on top of her, inside of her, fucking her so hard that all she could do was cry out your name.

she wanted you so badly, and as her fingers sped up, as the heat built in her stomach, she felt herself getting closer to that edge, closer to falling apart for you. "god, i-i miss you so much," she breathed. her body was on fire with desire, her mind consumed by thoughts of you. 

if she wasn't fingers deep inside herself right now, she would have cringed so hard at herself that she'd turn to stone. but her head was swimming with pleasure, and her tongue was loose with it, and god, she wished you were here so she could take out her pent-up frustration on your body.

"s-shit, puppy," she breathed. "you're mine. all mine."

"yes," you whimpered. "only yours."

her fingers curled against her walls, pressing deep into her slick heat, and fuck, she was close, so close, and—

"k-karina," you moaned, your voice going hoarse. "i-i'm gonna cum. please, please, i—"

"fuck, me too." her voice was a low growl, her body trembling as she felt her orgasm building. she wanted to tell you, wanted to make sure you knew, but all that came out was a series of broken moans. she could hear the way your breaths were coming quicker now, could hear the way they turned into choked gasps.

and god, if it wasn't the hottest thing. 

you were hers, and you were coming undone for her.she was getting close too, and when her hand finally started to ache, and she couldn't bring herself to stop, couldn't bring herself to do anything but press her fingers deeper and deeper until her walls finally clenched around them.

"g-gonna—" you cried out, your body shaking as your release finally took over, spilling out of you in waves of pleasure. karina's body followed soon after, her fingers curling deep inside her slick heat, her muscles clenching around them. she shuddered, gasping, her legs trembling as the waves of pleasure rippled through her.

for a moment, there was nothing but the sound of your ragged breathing, the aftershocks still rolling through your body, your skin flushed with heat. the only thing grounding you was the faint static of the phone pressed against your ear.

karina was the first to break the silence, her voice quieter now, almost lazy. "...when are you coming back home?"

you swallowed, still trying to catch your breath. "why?"

"just wondering," she murmured, voice dripping with something that made your stomach twist.

you exhaled slowly, shifting against the sheets. "tomorrow night."

"good."

she didn't elaborate, but you didn't need her to. the implication was clear—she wanted you back.

you smirked, voice teasing as you asked, "miss me that much?"

karina let out a soft scoff, but it lacked any real bite. "shut up."

you chuckled, but before you could push her further, she spoke again, quieter this time.

"...you'll come straight to me, right?"

the words caught you off guard.

for someone who usually kept her emotions so close to her chest, it was unusual for her to ask for something so blatantly. she must be feeling vulnerable. but it wasn't unwelcome. in fact, it sent a wave of affection through you, made your heartbeat a little faster.

you smiled, the words leaving you without a second thought. "of course, i will."

the line was silent for a beat, and then another, and for a moment, you wondered if she was already asleep.

"okay," she whispered.

taglist - @brocoliisscared @spidrgamer @kimminjiissosjdirbidnsjje

part four.

[magical-reid]

The Bucky Barnes Cake Conspiracy

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x (implied) Avenger!Reader

Word Count: 800

Summary: When Wanda convinces you and Natasha to do the “Hear Me Out” cake trend, you think it’s just harmless fun. That is, until every single one of your picks is a different version of Bucky Barnes, the entire Tower gets involved, and Bucky himself finds out in the most humiliating way possible—via Wanda’s viral video.

It started as a joke.

A harmless, ridiculous joke.

And then it spiraled into something much, much worse.

“I’m just saying,” Wanda said, shoving her phone in your face as the three of you wandered through the grocery store, “we should do it.”

Natasha glanced at the screen. “Oh, the ‘Hear Me Out’ cake trend? That’s dumb.”

“Exactly!” Wanda grinned. “Which makes it perfect for us.”

You furrowed your brows, watching the TikTok she’d pulled up. The trend was simple: buy a plain cake, decorate it with pictures of celebrities or characters you found attractive, and then justify your crush by sticking ‘Hear Me Out’ in the middle.

It was stupid. But also hilarious.

“I’m in,” you said.

Natasha groaned. “Fine. But I’m not helping if this turns into another Tower-wide disaster.”

Wanda hummed, already making a beeline for the bakery aisle. “Oh, it definitely will.”

Back at the Tower, you sat cross-legged on the kitchen counter as Wanda set up her phone. The cake—a plain white-frosted one you’d grabbed from the store—sat in the center of the table, looking all innocent. It had no idea it was about to be used for nonsense.

“Okay,” Wanda said, grinning. “Time to put down our picks.”

Natasha went first. She taped a photo of Keanu Reeves onto a skewer and stuck it into the cake. Classic. No one would question it.

Then Wanda went. Pedro Pascal. Another solid choice.

And then you—

“Y/N,” Natasha deadpanned. “Are you serious?”

You hesitated, mid-skewer placement. “…What?”

Wanda started cackling.

Because instead of picking three different people like a normal person, you had, without realizing it, picked three different versions of Bucky Barnes.

One was a picture of him in his tactical gear, scowling like he was about to murder someone (hot). Another was of him in a hoodie and jeans, looking all soft and domestic (also hot). And the third? The one that really sealed your fate?

It was a close-up of his metal arm.

You winced. “Okay. I see how this looks—”

“This looks like a confession,” Wanda said gleefully, already zooming in on your picks.

“Oh my God,” Natasha muttered, running a hand down her face.

“I panicked!” you hissed. “I wasn’t thinking—I just grabbed the first ones that looked good!”

Wanda was shaking with laughter. “Oh, babe. This isn’t panic. This is obsession.”

You groaned, dropping your head onto the counter. “I hate you both.”

The video went up on Wanda’s account that night.

By the next morning, it had one million views.

And the Tower was in absolute chaos.

Clint greeted you at breakfast with a slow, knowing grin. “So,” he said, spreading cream cheese onto his bagel, “should we start calling you Mrs. Barnes, or—?”

You threw a banana at his head.

Sam nearly fell off the couch laughing when he saw the video. “You put the metal arm?” he wheezed. “Oh, you’re down bad.”

Steve, who had clearly been dragged into this nonsense against his will, just gave you a long, unimpressed look over his coffee. “You could’ve just told him, you know.”

Tony, of course, had the most Tony reaction possible. “This is the most effort I’ve ever seen someone put into a crush. If I had known Bucky was your type, I would’ve set up an HR department just to make this more scandalous.”

You wanted the Earth to swallow you whole.

But the worst part?

Bucky.

Because by some miracle, he hadn’t seen the video yet.

Which meant you were living on borrowed time.

It happened later that night.

You were curled up on the couch, pretending to read a book but mostly trying to avoid eye contact with the entire human population, when Bucky strolled into the common room.

“Hey, doll.”

Your stomach flipped. “Hey.”

He sat next to you, arms stretched out over the back of the couch, his face unreadable. For a brief, fleeting moment, you thought—maybe he doesn’t know.

And then—

“So,” he said, far too casually. “You like my arm that much, huh?”

Your entire body locked up.

Your soul left your body.

Your mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.

“I—what—who—?”

Bucky chuckled. “I saw the video.”

You shut your eyes. “Kill me.”

He hummed, like he was thinking about it. “Nah. ‘Cause then who’s gonna take me on that date you clearly want?”

You choked. “What—”

Bucky turned to face you fully, that infuriating smirk tugging at his lips. “If you wanted me so bad, sweetheart, you could’ve just asked.”

Your entire brain short-circuited. “I—That’s—You—”

Bucky leaned in, voice low. “Next time, maybe write my number on the cake instead.”

You exhaled sharply, heart hammering. “Are you—Are you flirting with me?”

His grin widened. “You tell me.”

You stared at him. Then at the door. Then back at him.

Finally, you sighed, rubbing your temples. “Fine. But if we go on a date, I’m making Wanda pay for it.”

Bucky laughed, eyes warm. “Deal.”

[sturniqlo]

VALENTINE'S DAY- SHY!MATT X SHY!READER

summary: matt and darlings second valentine's day together

cw: SMUT; unprotected p in v, face riding, oral!f!receiving, handjob (kinda), creampie, use of "good girl" (said once), + some FLUFF; cute couple shit😔

an: surprise!!! i missed matt and darling and they missed you too | also this is darlings underneath surprise for matt

masterlist | shy!matt x shy!reader | join my taglist

"okay, put this on." matt held up a bunny sleeping mask he had stolen from darlings room. "what?" she raised an eyebrow and stared at him. the two were currently sat in matt's car parked in front of the cabin they were staying in for the long weekend.

a couple of weeks prior, matt had decided to book a cabin for valentine's day, since it was presidents' day weekend they had an extra day. "put it on, please." he tried to hide his smile. darling hesitated, but eventually gave in. "okay, you better not leave me stranded somewhere." she giggled as she slipped the eyes mask on. "i'd never do that." he squeezed her hand lightly. "wait here, i'll open you the door."

exiting the car, he closed his door and made his way to the passenger side. "gimme your hand, pretty." he held his hand out. "matt, i can't see, silly." she smiled, her hand trying to find his. "oh- right." he blushed, capturing her hand in his. "okay, step out—careful." matt looked down to make sure she wouldn't step on anything that would make her lose her balance.

"c'mon, just hold on t'me." he said and her hand came to grip the red sweater he was wearing. his sweater matched darlings red sweater with white hearts.

before coming to the cabin, they had spend the entire morning and afternoon together. they exchanged their valentines gifts and went to a nice and cozy breakfast place. for lunch, darling made matt's favorite meal and they ate at her house. from her house, they packed up matt's car and went for a quick grocery run and then arrived at the cabin.

"alright, watch your step. there's a small flight of stairs." matt warned her and helped her up the four steps. "let me open the door." he let go of her arm and entered the code for the door. matt hadn't actually seen the inside of the cabin, and he was met with pink and red rose petals along with small candles in the entrance.

"you can take it off now." he stepped behind her and closed the door. darling slowly lifted the eye mask and gasped. "matt—" she smiled, her eyes darting around the heart shaped balloons and rose petals on the floor. "wha— how?" she turned to him with a huge smile on her face. "remember how i went to my dorm to pack?" she nodded. "i actually came here to do this. you like?"

"my love," she pouted. "i love it." her bottom lip quivered. "hey—hey, why're you crying, darling?" he wiped away the stray tears that fell from her eyes. "i'm so happy. this— it's so nice and- ughh! i just love you." she wrapped her arms around his neck. "i love you." his arms came around her waist and he pressed a few kisses on her hair. "you haven't even seen the best part, yet."

"there's more?" she looked at him, her eyes still glossy. "for you always." he pecked her lips. "c'mon." he held her hand and walked her to the dining area. as they approached it, darling could the room glowing. rounding the corner, she saw how he had decorated. "oh matt. it's so pretty." she stared in awe. there was balloons along the windows, a table with rose petals and many pictures of them, and the dining table was set so beautifully.

"thank you." she turned to him, jumping on him and of course he caught her, he always did. "thank you, thank you, thank you." she repeated as she pressed kisses on his face, leaving faint kiss marks behind. "anything for you, i mean it." he scrunched his nose as she left a peach there. matt was able to catch her lips in a passionate kiss as she pecked them. "i love you so much, pretty girl. happy valentine's day." he spoke against her lips. "mm—happy valentine's day, baby. i love you more."

what was supposed to be a quick kiss turned into a heated make out session. matt's hands that held her up were squeezing her ass over her jeans, her hands were tugging thag the hair at the nape of his neck.

"please— let me show you how much i love you, yeah?" he pulled away, his lips red and swollen. "yes— mhm, please." she nodded, her lips coming up to his neck to kiss the skin. matt wasted no time in taking them to the bedroom. the dinner matt had brought earlier crossed his mind, but he didn't care. he could order something new.

as he gently kicked the door open and the bedside lamps were on from when he had first came here. "i was supposed to show you this later, but now is a good time." he gently placed her back on the floor and she saw the rose petals on the bed in the shape of a heart. "you're just perfect aren't you." she smiled, turning back to him. matt chuckled, and grabbed her by the waist. "speak for yourself." his lips dipped down to kiss her neck and he guided her backwards to the bed.

matt pushed her lightly and laid her down on top of the petals. "we're ruining your masterpiece don't you think?" darling gave him a teasing smile. "you really think i care about that when i have you in front of me?" his warm hands slid underneath her sweater. "i guess not." she giggled.

"can i?" matt asked when her sweater was pushed up just underneath her bra. she held back a smile knowing what she was wearing underneath. it was the first time she had actually worn sexy lingerie, as much as she was excited, she was nervous. when matt pulled the sweater up and off her body he groaned when he saw her lacy yet see through bra.

"holy shit, baby. you really are perfect." he threw his face on top of her skin just above her boob. "you like it?" she said quietly. "i fucking love it. you look so pretty." he planted a few kisses on her skin. "does that mean?" he came to a realization and his fingertips went to the hem of her jeans. "matching underwear." she nodded, and blushed. "fuck— can i see?" darling nodded. "go ahead." she gave him permission.

darling didn't have time to blink and matt already had her jeans off. "oh my god. you're killing me here." his fingers raked over her front of her underwear. matt threw her jeans on the floor to meet with her sweater. "so beautiful, so perfect, all mine." he muttered against her warm skin as he kissed up her body. his soft, warm kisses made her whine softly as she wanted more.

matt pulled away, and took his sweater off. "want you so bad, pretty girl. let me have you please. fuck— let me taste you again" he practically whined against her neck, his fingers teasingly nudged her clothed slit. her arousal had damped her underwear. "please, yes— please." she nodded her head, shifting on the bed a bit and she could already feel the rose petals sticking to her.

he slowly kissed down her neck, stopping that the top of her breast and kissed over the mesh material. with his other hand, he brought the material down to expose her tits. his lips wrapped around her hardened nipple and he swirled his tongue around it, while the other one was occupied by his fingers. "oh— matt." she gasped, her hand came on top of his guiding it to squeeze her harder. "you were made for me, my love. so fucking perfect, so perfect." popping off, his hands never left her tits as he continued to trail kisses down her body.

his kisses ended just above her core. she could feel his warm breath so close to her, so close. "let me take my time with you, show you how much i love you, especially today." he kissed and nipped along her inner thighs. matt's arms wrapped around her thighs as his head was caged in. "but—" she whined, trying to roll her hips to get closer to him. "i know, i know." he cooed, sucking so close to the edge of her covered pussy.

"want you to remember this night, wanna show you how special you are." his right arm unwrapped from her thigh and he pulled her panties to the side, seeing her glistening pussy in the warm light. "so wet for me, aren't you." his forefinger nudged her puffy clit. "matt, baby." she watched how he brought the same finger up to his mouth to taste the but if arousal. "so sweet like always." his finger went in for another dip, but this time, he swiped it up from her hole to her clit, collecting much more.

"mm, so good." he licked his finger clean. finally, he dipped down and licked up her slit. "yes— yes matt." her hands few to his hair. his nose nudged her clit and he licked her. it was as if her hips had a mind of its own and started rolling against his face, trying to get as close as possible. matt pulled off her pussy. "no, matt. wha—" she almost cried. "it's okay. want you on my face, sit on my face." her face turned more flushed.

"are you sure? what if i suffocate you." she said and matt crawled up to her, his face above hers. "you won't, but if you do i wouldn't mind going like that." he smirked, pressing a kiss to her lips. "matt—" he cut her off. "please, i promise it'll be like last time." she bit the skin on her lip, thinking and remembering how good it did feel, her hips rolling against his face, his nose nudging against her clit as his tongue dipped in and out of her hole.

"okay, okay." she nodded, matt moved away to let her sit up. matt went to lay on the pillows and noticed a few rose petals on her back as she unclasped her bra. "you got a little something on your back." he giggled, reaching out to pluck them off. she thanked him and discarded her underwear. crawling up to him, she straddled his lap and leaned down to kiss him, she could taste herself on his tongue.

his hands came down to knead her ass. "c'mon, get on my face." matt gave her a light slap on her ass cheek. she gave him on last kiss before moving up to straddle his head. matt almost groaned when her pussy was so close yet so far from his mouth. he wasted no time in wrapping his arms around her and bringing her down to his mouth. "oh! matt- yes— mhm, just like that." her hips rolled against his face, her hands came went to hold on to the headboard.

matt looked up at her and saw her blissed out face, her eyes were closed and her jaw was slacked, little moans and whines slipping out of her. "feel good, baby? because you taste amazing." his tongue lapped at her wetness. "feels so good, matt." she managed to let out.

many, many sucks and licks later, her thighs began to ache. "i- i can't." she whined. matt gave her core a open mouthed kiss before speaking. "it's okay, i got you." he patted her hip and she laid next to him. "you alright, pretty girl?" he rolled to his side, his hand running through her hair. "mhm." she nodded, a flushed expression on her face. "i want you." darling pouted, and matt crawled on top of her. "fuck— i want you too." he muttered against the skin of her collarbone. her fingers trailed down his happy trail and tugged on his jeans.

he nodded, granting her permission. she unbuttoned his jeans and matt kicked them off, leaving him in his boxers. "so hard, baby." she palmed him over. "you're killing me, baby." his head fell in her neck. darling gently pulled his boxers down and his cock sprung out in between them. "fuck." he groaned as she wrapped her hand around him.

"please, matt." she looked up at him through her lashes, her hand moving up and down his length, pumping him for a good while. her thumb circled around his leaky tip and his hips jerked "shit—" he bit down in her neck. "i need you." he kissed her neck and she removed her hand from his dick and spread her legs. "ready f'me?" he looked at her, and he stroked his cock a few times.

he sat up on his knees and grabbed her thighs pulled her towards him. with a shriek and a giggle, darling wrapped her legs around him. "mhm, m'ready." matt held his cock and ran the tip up and down her wetness. "matt." she whined impatiently, rolling her hips trying to get more.

"okay, i'll stop." he giggled as he lined his tip up with her hole. slowly, he pushed himself in, feeling her warm walls suck him in. "oh, baby. you're so tight, so warm." his mood instantly changed. "fuck— you're so big." she whined, pulling him down so she could wrap her arms around him.

once he was all in, he stood still for a few seconds so she could adjust to his size. "you can move." she whispered in her ear. "y'sure?" he kissed her cheek. "mhm." matt began to rock his hips into her. he soon picked up his speed and the roll was filled with their moans and the sound of skin slapping together.

"feel so good around me— yeah, shit— keep squeezing me like that." he groaned, kneading her tit in his hand. "matt, matt— oh my god!" he hit that spot deep in her. "it's so good, you're so good. love you so much." she whined, her nails digging into his back. he hissed— in pleasure. "scratch me up, baby. m'all yours. mark me as yours."

his hand trialed from her tits, down to where they were connected and toyed with her clit. "yes! fuck— yes, matt." her hips rolled against his. "darling, i want you on top of me. i'll do the work, promise." he kissed her lips down to her jaw, lightly nipping. the feeling of his fingers on her clit and his continuing thrusts only let her nod.

the thrusts slowed down and he gently pulled out. matt laid on the bed and grabbed her pulling her on top of him. he wasted no time in putting his cock back into her. darling instantly moaned at the new angle. he felt even deeper inside of her. "feels better?" his hips thrusted up into her, his hand came up to her face to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. "mhm— so deep." she nodded.

"i love you." matt's hands trailed down her back, feeling a few petals on her back, and his hands landed on her ass to caress her skin. "i- mm- i love you." she kissed his neck. "matt— harder, please. need it harder."

"yeah? want it harder, baby?" he asked as he picked up the speed, "o- just like that! fuck!" the sound of their skin slapping echoed in the room. "i'm- i'm so close. don't stop, don't stop." she whined into his neck. "want you to cum all over me, darling. wanna feel you cum around me." he kissed her hair, his cock buried deep in her.

matt could feel the familiar pressure building up, but he wanted her to cum first. "can feel you squeezing me. you're so close, aren't you." all she could do was nod against his neck, her breathing heavier than ever.

all of a sudden matt felt her go tense and he knew she was cumming as her legs began to shake. "there we go, good girl." he praised her, as he felt incredibly close to his orgasm. "fuck— i'm so close. where do y'want it." he held his eyes from rolling back. "in me, want you to come in me." she said tiredly, yet still moaning. "oh... s- shit." his hips stilled as spurts of his cum painted the inside of her walls.

"holy shit— happy valentine's day, pretty girl."

☁️ . . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋ additional authors note ࿐ྂ

happy valentine's day from ME :D i love each and every single one of you guys!! i had so much fun going on a date with matt today ;).... jk :(.... but if ur like me and have no valentine this year... you're my valentine🌷

[slow-drowned-angels]

[image id: A screenshot of a tweet from the New York Post. It reads:

“Carl’s Jr. Super Bowl ad brings back bikini-clad burger models after yearslong clampdown.”

Attached to the tweet are two images of said ad. They both show the same scantily-clad, blonde, white woman posing with a burger and cars. She is wearing a bra that is made up of two star shapes and a jean miniskirt.

End image ID./]

Some notable parts of the Vox article:

It harks back to the idea that was dominant in the Bush era, a moment when our culture was capable of prizing Girls Gone Wild and purity balls in equal measure, when pop stars like Britney Spears were expected to serve their audiences sex on a platter while avowing their virginity at the same time. It’s the ideology that unites Republican raunch and purity culture, that makes them two sides of the same coin: one based on the idea that women’s sexuality should exist in the service of men. The right once again championing this brand of bawdiness while working relentlessly to restrict women’s autonomy and denigrating the women they don’t like isn’t a departure. It’s a return to form.

…

The joke was that it was funny when girls were sexy and it was sexy when girls were degraded — especially when they played along.

…

“The more attractive women around us are, whether in real life or fiction, the less one is able to maintain two important leftist delusions,” Hanania writes. “That the sexes are or can be made interchangeable, and that sexual selection either is or can be made to be an unimportant part of human affairs. If Sydney Sweeney’s boobs walk into a room, even Chris Hayes is going to experience a physiological transformation.”

Hanania’s take, if I’m deciphering it correctly, is that it is fundamental to human nature for men to publicly ogle women’s bodies and value women accordingly, and that when feminists object to the ogling, they are attempting to put some sort of vise around human nature. Sweeney’s star power, combined with her willingness to show off her curves, he argues, is proof that this vise has vanished and men can go back to the way things should be: sexualizing women pretty much whenever they feel like it.

All of this is a willful misreading of contemporary feminism. There’s a clear difference between Sweeney being proudly boob-forward — while still getting taken seriously as an award-winning actor with major star power — and other people getting rich by exploiting the breasts of beautiful underpaid women, as was the case with Girls Gone Wild, The Man Show, and, heck, even today’s Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders

The radical idea of pop feminism in the 2010s was that you should be accorded basic human dignity regardless of what your body looks like and how you choose to display it, even if you are an entertainer in a visual medium. Raunch culture looks at this request and declares it regressive, prudish, delusional. Raunch must be compulsory or it is nothing.

…

This basic fact is why raunch culture and purity culture co-exist so closely. It’s why the online right can think of themselves as being pro-sex and also be in favor of outlawing abortion and making it harder to access contraception. All of it is about men controlling women’s bodies: controlling how they look, how they have sex, and how they have children. The point is always that it’s not the woman who chooses.

…

“If we were to acknowledge that sexuality is personal and unique, it would become unwieldy. Making sexiness into something simple, quantifiable, makes it easier to explain and to market,” Levy writes. “If you remove the human factor from sex and make it about stuff — big fake boobs, bleached blonde hair, long nails, poles, thongs — then you can sell it. Suddenly, sex requires shopping; you need plastic surgery, peroxide, a manicure, a mall.”

…

The claim that sex belongs to Republicans should not be understood simply as a bizarre and self-deluding brag. It’s a threat.

while being depressing, this is also sort of fascinating to me bc there’s something so…inauthentic here. what i mean is that if you saw something like this back in say 2001 (which you probably wouldn’t, at least for carl’s jr. but i digress) it would seem tacky but in a “sex sells” sort of way.

seeing this in 2025, it’s clearly purely a political statement and you can tell partially bc the image itself is so oddly sexless. it’s like there’s more titillation in the prospect of “owning the libs” than in the image of the scantily clad blonde white woman itself.

[kyunzin]

☆𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐃𝐈𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐀𝐘?☆ - 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞, 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐨

✰ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 ✰ 𝐆. 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮, 𝐆. 𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮, 𝐅. 𝐓𝐨𝐣𝐢, 𝐒. 𝐑𝐲𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧, 𝐍. 𝐊𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐨, 𝐊. 𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐨 ✰ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 ✰ them overhearing you say you can take all of them at once (f!reader) ✰ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒/𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 ✰ pussy licking, fingering, hair pulling, praise, face fucking, manhandling, degrading, sloppy make out, spit kink, cum eating, blowjobs ✰ 𝐊𝐘𝐔𝐍’𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 ✰did you guys know word counters are useful😀 why had i already hit the word count ages ago (i roughly count by paragraphs 10 lines= 100 words/ 10 paragraphs =1k words yk so 30 paragraphs =3k words. i hit 3 k in like the 27th paragraph) also if you see any words that look like they’re missing a ‘h’ its because that key is broken for me and i probably forgot to edit it in :D

w.c ✰ 3.4

it's almost too much for you to handle

it's probably not a good idea to make promises you might not be able to keep

it's going to be fine, you’ll find a way to get through it since after all you can take it, cant you?

geto sucks in the whine you let out when gojo's tongue doesn't move, taking the opportunity to slip his tongue inside your mouth, holding you down when you try to roll your hips into gojo's face. "you'll get what you want soon. 'm gonna give him a little taste so he doesn't bitch, keep your tongue flat and don't move it or else you wont get anything for the rest of the night" you can tell the last bit was directed at gojo as he responds with a hum of 'mm-hmm', the vibrations against your pussy cause your legs to twitch. geto guides your hands down towards gojo's hair and you instinctively you grip onto it.

you're near breathless, panting heavily when geto's lips part from yours, trying to chase his hips but he only breaks the kiss to quickly whisper to you "pull his hair he loves it" you follow his command, tugging firmly at his hair as instructed and the result doesn’t disappoint. gojo's moan goes straight to your core and you shudder in pleasure. "told you, he's a little pain slut" gojo lets out a whine at geto's comment and toji laughs clearly amused by the interaction yet you can only sit there aching for some more stimulation. "i thought you said it was rude to keep your guests waiting, yet here i am still waiting"

even though your words come out breathy toji smirks up at your little quip "fine. since you can't seem to wait, fuck yourself on his tongue but when i tell you to stop you do. understand?" he stands from is position on the floor, making his way to sit in a small arm chair off the side of the queen sized bed. "yes, fuck finally" you get to work immediately drag gojo’s tongue over your aching cunt, pulling his face further into your pussy while he keeps himself still for you to use. "where d’ya find this one, she's so demanding" in your periphery you can see him stroking is cock through his pants.

you ignore his words and focus on working gojo’s tongue, throwing your head back relieved that you’re finally able to gain some stimulation after being left waiting for so long. you can tell gojo’s enjoying this from the little vibrations of noises he lets out as well as his firm grip keeping your legs spread wide out next to him. geto's soft chuckle tickles the crook of your neck at the clear desperation of your movements "found her and her friend talking about all the things she would let us do to her in the middle of campus so proudly" you curl into his touch without halting the movement of your hands.

toji raises is eye brows at geto's words but you're too occupied with the feeling of gojo's wet tongue to notice. "and what exactly would she let us do to her?" toji says with a curious smirk eager to hear the answer. "why don't you tell him, i'm sure you had a lot more to say than what you told us, right?" you can hear the teasing tone in is voice, wishing that you wouldn't have to repeat yourself. a couple of seconds pass without your reply and the two of them realise that you didn't hear them, head thrown back on geto's shoulder, lost in the way gojo's tongue glides up and down your folds.

it’s hard to focus on what their saying when you’re so lost in your pleasure. gojo’s saliva oozes out his mouth, creating a hot wet mess between your legs as he practically drools all over you yet your pleasure is lost without any warning. "i asked you a question," you let out a choked sob when gojo is ripped away from you and try to chase his mouth with your hips only to be stopped by geto, opening your eyes to see gojo's spit soaked face smiling up at you mockingly while he inwardly mourns the loss of your taste on his tongue. "how will we know what to do, if you don't tell us?"

you know there's no use in trying to evade the question yet you're too frustrated to even care. "i want you to fuck my throat. want you to mess me up inside and out. i don't wanna be able to talk or walk after you're done with me," you turn to look at toji who's grin stretches from ear to ear. there's a very visible wet spot marking out where the tip if his cock lies yet his makes no moves to remove himself from his confines. you’d leave it at that but you might as well tell them the full extent of what you want "want you to fuck me up real good, whatever you want. do your worst, i can take it"

even though you may have skipped over a few minor major details you're sure that they would be able to get the gist. "atta girl, that wasn't so hard now was it. now we can finally get to the good shit" he rises from his place on the chair and makes his way over to the three of you with his yes locked with yours. toji's words paired with geto's soft "good girl" sends a thrill down your spine. geto’s calloused hands keep you grounded where you are as you start to get fidgety again “keep still, you’ll get what you want soon princess” his words still your little tremors as the promise of more eases your mind.

"toru' move i didn't get a good taste earlier" toji winks at gojo and as if on cue he follows his words without a moments fail, letting his hair loose from your hands you mourn the loss of his warmth between your legs, and you catch a glimpse of his dejected face as he stands up taking toji's previous place on the seat and you spot the raging tent in his joggers. "looks big doesn't it?" you nod your head as you continue to stare and upon noticing your gaping, gojo’s face lights up again. as if to show off gojo makes quick work of pulling out his cock, geto scoffs as his display and focuses his attention on you.

"i'm sure you'll be able to take it and if not, well i guess that's your problem isn't" you can hear his soft laughter from above you. gojo's size should be the least of your problems right now because the feeling of whatever is poking your head is breaking any hopes you had before of them being average. it’s stupid to keep that idealistic thought. your head snaps downward at the edge of the bed as toji settles himself between your legs with a predatory look in his eyes, stopping a few inches from you. “don’t worry, you’ll be able to take it with a little practice” that does little to ease your worries.

the yelp that you let out when toji lifts your calf and bites it has the other three in the room laughing at you. he keeps up his ministrations while placing each leg over his shoulders. "don't act so surprised sweet cheeks, i'm just getting into position" you can hear gojo mumble something about ‘taking his spot from him’ but pay him no mind as toji licks his way along your thigh "squeeze ya legs if you want, that way i’ll be able to tell how good i'm making you feel since you wont be able to speak" confusion must show on your face yet instead of satisfying your curiosity toji just winks at you.

toji’s calloused hands run up the length of your left leg pushing it to the side ever so gently, while he scatters ostentatious kisses along the other. his frequent kisses have your legs twitching in anticipation as he teases you, taking his sweet time, eyeing you closely until he finally presses a feather light kiss to your spit soaked clit. he pulls back and you watch as a thin wet string connects his lips, glistening with your slick, to your pussy until he licks them clean “s’ as sweet as sugar princess,” he leans down and repeats the motion this time with more emphasis “where’ve you been hiding?”

your response is a choked moan and your hands reach into his hair which he takes that as a sign to continue, sucking on you clit as if he’s expecting something to come out. he soon lets up and smiles down at your now puffy clit like a child proud of their drawing, rubbing his thumb in circles over it while your hand uselessly holds onto his thick wrist as his hand abuses your clit. “that feel good sweet cheeks?” you frantically nod your head as you bite your lips while trying to buck your hips into his touch but he suddenly stops with a harsh slap to your outer thigh which has you whining at the loss of stimulation.

“I want words cheeks and look at me when I’m talking to you” you don’t remember closing your eyes but you open them not surprised to see toji looking up at you from between your legs with a slick covered smile. a few seconds pass without your reply so he pinches your clit in warning and you quickly remember what else he wanted “fuck- yes it feels so fucking good please don’t stop” seemingly satisfied with your response he releases his hold on you and presses a kiss to your clit as if it’s an apology. “there we go. keep makin 'em pretty noises for me and I won’t have to check in so often”

a sudden movement behind you almost causes you to jolt in surprise, in one swift movement your hands are pinned above your head and your vision of toji is obscured by geto’s thighs straddling your chest, looking up to see him smiling at you. his hair frames his face as he looks down at you and he swiftly ties his hair into a bun at the back of his head. from this angle you're faced nearly directly under the swelling in his pants and you're slowly catching onto the meaning of toji's words. "don't look so surprised, this is what you said you wanted isn't it. i'm just giving you what you asked for"

geto's words remind you that even though his smile may look sweet and harmless he's just as cunning as the other two, he’s just able to hide it well. you're pulled out of your thoughts when geto starts to pull down his waistband, lowering it just underneath his balls. feeling it was one thing but seeing it right in front of you makes you worry for the state of your throat after he's done with you. at first glance you can tell that it'll be a mouthful, thick and girthy. geto’s hands gently lift you head from it’s position and your brought out of your thoughts.

"open nice and wide for me" you follow his words without question and two things happen at the same time. one, geto thrusts as much of his cock as he can down your throat causing your throat to constrict around him as you try not to choke and struggle to breathe at the same time. simultaneously toji decides at that exact moment to lick a stipe up your pussy to collect all of yours and his mess on his tongue, laying his tongue flat on your pussy only for it all to dribble back out his mouth creating an even wetter mess. “sounds like you’re having fun over there” gojo taunts.

both motions leave you spluttering around geto's cock and your legs threaten to close around toji's head despite the firm hold he has on them and you can hear gojo’s sardonic laugh in the background. tears begin to well in your eyes until geto taps your cheek to get your attention. “princess, breathe through your nose” you cant help but notice his voice comes out near strained and you hope you’re the reason for it. following his instructions you find that you can actually breath better though you still struggle a bit “isn't that much better?” you let out an appreciative hum and his response is immediate.

your just barely able to make out the small tensing of his abdomen through his shirt however you do feel the way his cock pulses down your throat as you try to maintain a steady breathing pattern. “told you you could take it” your lured into a false sense of security when geto slowly starts to pull back out of your throat only by a couple inches before he practically plunges back in, throwing your breathing off balance again however you remember his advice and try to regain composer as he waits for you. “such a good girl, taking me so well” he praises and you can feel tears begin to well in your eyes.

just when your able to control your breathing again toji agrees with him and his response is short hum into your pussy, which vibrations straight to you core. you had forgotten he was there with how consistent he’s been. as if before had only been a warm up he begins to lap hungrily at your pussy, letting his tongue edge slightly into you as if to tease you. instead of holding your legs apart like before he leaves them to clamp firmly around his head as you slowly try rock your hips into his face as much as you can but he holds you down by your hips “stop fucking moving and let me take care of you”

you hips still at his command and he presses a kiss to your pussy, causing your legs to tense from the feather like touch. “‘s like she’s eager to get her holes stuffed ” gojo snorts from the side of the room. you let out a whine of protest that gets swallowed by geto’s cock and he looks down at you with a disapproving face. “don’t lie to us sweet cheeks” toji bites into the flesh of your thigh and you feels the tears fall rolling down the side of your face from the sting of his teeth digging into your leg. you soon realise denying anything won’t get you anywhere as all motion stops around you.

“that won’t do will it,” geto stars to ease his way out of your mouth “if you’re not eager to be filled then I guess we can wait for the others to get here before we continue then” you hear gojo laugh out from the side of the room “seems like it’s gonna be at least another ten minutes before they all get her, sure you can wait that long princess?” they should know the answer to that question already but you know they won’t be satisfied until they hear it from your mouth. “let her speak” knew it. geto pulls out completely and you can feel the strain in your jaw from having it stretched for so long.

your throat feels raw and a bit too empty without geto occupying it but you push the feeling down so that you can respond before they begin to grow impatient. “please don’t make me wait,” you raise yourself onto your elbows, leaving your face mere centimeters away from geto's dripping tip and look over to gojo “I’m sure if they really wanted to be here they would make an effort to get here faster. so if they miss anything it’s their loss” toji strokes your thigh seemingly pleased with your answer “polite with an attitude, I like her. we might have to keep her” gojo lets out an agreeing hum.

“think she deserves a treat for bein such a good girl for us” before you can even begin to think about what the treat might be toji runs two fingers up your pussy, collecting all the wet mess. you can only assume that he sucks it into his mouth when you hear a pop sound after he removes his fingers from his mouth and your legs twitch again at the stimulation. only a second later does geto begin to inch his cock back into your mouth, holding the sides of your head gently “such cute noises she’s makin for us” geto agrees with a hum as he comes to a halt when he feels your throat close around him.

it’s only then do you realise that the soft mewls and whimpers that you’re hearing are coming from your mouth that’s wrapped around geto’s cock. “since I know you’re begging to be fucked, i’ll do ya a favor "your legs fall back onto the bed when toji rises from his position between your legs “toru come over here and open her up” in the corner of your eye you see gojo hop up with glee jumping almost too eagerly onto the bed, using his hand to practically shove toji out of the way. geto seems to be ignoring their interactions in favor of teasing his cock down your throat with shallow thrusts.

you can tell that he’s holding back from choking you with his cock from the concentrated look on his face as well as the fact that he’s not reaching nearly as deep as he was before. “that’s it. nice and easy” his soft spoken words soothe your nerves however it’s a futile attempt, as without warning gojo slides a nimble finger into you with little resistance and you can feel as his second knuckle breaches your entrance. the stretch of his finger has your throat sporadically closing around geto's cock which causes his concentration slips as his hips stutter, forcing his cock down your throat.

“s-shit sorry” he apologises while wiping tears that fall from you eyes as gojo slides in another finger, pushing in all the way to his knuckles. geto slowly eases his cock out of your throat allowing you to take in a few breaths of air loosening his grip on your hair. “don’t apologise to her,” your eyes dart to the side where you watch toji lazily stroking his cock until gojo curls his fingers and your eyes shoot upwards to geto who is letting out soft breaths while he massages his cock. “remember she said she could take it,” there's a sadistic undertone in his voice when he says “I’m sure she’ll be fine”

gojo repeats the motion and you let out a loud wail and your back fails to arch off the bed with geto’s weight on top of you “she’s squeezing me real tight down here, bet she likes it when you’re rough with her, isn't that right” it’s impossible to respond with how deep geto is now lodged down your throat. “you’re not gonna answer me cutie?” you knows he’s taunting you and you’re sure he’s smirking when he presses his thumb on your clit waiting for a response. your issue is resolved when geto’s pulls you off his cock and your head drops back down onto the pillow and your response is practically immediate.

“yesyesyes- fuck, it feels so good don’t stop” your eyes are a bit glossy from the few tears you shed earlier but you're still able to make out the rise in the corners of geto's lips while he looks down at your disheveled face. he adds insult to injury by rubbing the tip of his cock against your lips, letting his cockhead slightly slip but not fully teasing both himself and you in the process only making bigger mess of your face when it passes the corner of your lips and onto your cheeks. "sorry didn't mean to make such a mess, s'shame you can't clean it yourself." you know the apology’s fake but accept it anyway.

you would try to protest but gojo's relentless assault on your cunt prevents your mouth from making any coherent sounds other than what they can only presume to be his name. "want someone else to clean it up for you princess?" you know that it's futile to speak with geto's cock head laying heavy on the tip of you tongue so you lazily nod your head hoping that it's an accepted answer, in the process you also coat geto's cock with more of you saliva. yet before geto can even acknowledge your answer toji rises from his spot with pace and purpose in his steps. "i'll help ya out, move back"

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 - 𝐉𝐔𝐉𝐔𝐓𝐒𝐔 𝐊𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐍

end note ✰ I didn’t want the note to take up too much space but I talk quite a bit so here's an end note ;p. who do you guys want to join next { i might make a poll}? it’s already a challenge to give four people things to do at the same time idk how im going to manage seven.

✰ taglist ✰ @lik0 @yaygurist @dvarlinggg @valleydoli @yeet-ur-feet @silkija @nuggetalli @zillahgocrazy @satoryaa @yaya4thawin @nowhoremones @yeetlixs @happy2delivur @heliumshorns @chocopuchino @luvv4lurd @sorceira @maniaerodesi @chysalxsm @cobraisveryhorny @servalswifey @chrissysblog @futureittomainn @zacatecanaaaa @ichikanu @ameeeeeliie @bluupen @prettybakerswife @blankwashed @klumrine @chadychadyy2k @hantenguclonesimp-minuszoha @dl-yum @jalepp @kibananya @jjksimp3579 @xemmysblog @shawnberry @bleachisfood @barryatsumu @zennyxxy @dyeforkenma @bloomingheartss @sousblogga @alluresenses @zwmbizz @queenkassradite @dawnhero @xthatpottahfanx @loavibeycipoosan

[tonixe]

mine ౨ৎ

A/N: I'm back, yeah I know. I've been out for a few months or years idk. I wanted to write this, cuz I love dad!kento, also this been in my mind rent-free, and just hell yeah. Also happy Valentine's Day, and sorry for the late submission, but this was part of my Valentine's book/smutbook on Wattpadd/a03 so just a cross-post.

WARNING: p in the v, oral sex, cursing, no condom we fuck raw, cunnilingus, not proofread lmao...

PAIRING: nanami kento x reader

WORD COUNTER: 3135

Every morning, it was the same routine just like before, children laughing at the scent of heavily waxed crayons and baby wipes in the air, and the occasional wail from reluctant toddlers and kids. You have gotten so used to the chaos of kids, the rush of parents dropping their kids off before heading off to work,

"Look Miss. L/N—do you like the picture I drew!" you turned your head to see one of the toddlers, standing right beside you showing a picture they drew. You smiled, patting their head, 

"This looks so good, I'll make sure to hang this on the bulletin board," you said, crouching down to take hold of the drawing, the toddler smiled, as they ran back to the other kids exclaiming about how her drawing got to the bulletin board.

Yeah, it was the usual for you, working at the daycare. You readjusted your pastel yellow colored apron, and your hair in a ponytail so it doesn't get in your face, it takes a bunch of energy to take care of these kids filled with energy all day, the sound of footsteps echoed through the sound of yelling kids, you turned to see 

Him.

Yuuji's dad

The moment he walked it, it made your heart beat faster, feeling your cheeks heating up. You were in a quiet panic, you tell yourself it's just another parent, and just another kid check—all a part of your routine, you breathed. Usually, he always on-time, greeting you with a smile—like he was happy to see you. Maybe it's the way he take an extra moment to ask about Yuji's dad, that made you feel some type of way—or the way his deep voice makes your stomach flutter just a little too much.

But today, he was running late. He was a little disheveled, his green, polka-dot tie was loosened, and his blonde hair tousled like his finger was through it a little too many times. He's holding Yuji's tiny backpack in his right as his other freehand is holding onto his hand, the little boy skipping alongside him.

"Mr. Nanami" you called out, a smile on your face,

"Sorry for the rush," he says, his voice a little breathless as he steps up to you, "Mornings are always something different with him.." he gestures to Yuuji who was practically waiting to be free to run around.

You let out a little laugh, crouching down to Yuuji, whose attention was on you, "Did you give your dad some trouble?" you asked, teasing him.

You watched as Yuuji shook his head furiously, laughing a little bit.

"No! I just made him chase me around" he confessed, with a cheeky smile on his lips. You looked at Nanami, who just sighed, rubbing his hands over his face, and making you blush.

"He's not wrong" he admits, "he has speed—think I got to start training if I want to keep up with him"

You bit your lip, trying to suppress another smile, "Oh!—I'll take this" You took hold of Yuuji's backpack, and you felt Nanami's finger brushing against yours—the sensation of skin against skin made you freeze for a moment, it just send a sudden spark thorough you. 

The warmth of his hand is gone, as quick as it came as you had Yuuji's backpack in hand, your gaze flickered to him but he was looking directly at you. It wasn't a casual glance, not an accidental meeting of eyes—what were you even talking about, 

You cleared your throat, focusing back on Yuuji, "Alright, Yuji! You ready for a fun day" You smiled at him, and the pink-haired kid nodded enthusiastically, 

You stood up, as Nanami let out a small sigh, and ruffled Yuuji's hair, "Be good today, okay?" He patted Yuuji,

"I will, papa!" 

You watched as Yuuji started running into the play area, "You're really great with him, you know" You turned your attention to Nanami, his voice was softer but still deep. You fl your cheek heating up,  as you tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear, "He's a great kid" you smiled.

He exhaled, for a small chuckle, "Yeah...he is—but I appreciate you looking out for him" he said, you nodded with a smile, turning a glance at Yuuji already playing with the other kids, 

"It's no problem," you said,  "it's actually my pleasure to have him with me"

He nods, taking a step backward, his attention now on his watch that was on his wrist, "Shoot—I have to go, I'll be a little late, picking Yuuji up"

"Okay!" you nodded, as you watched him leave out of the door, you tried to shake off the warmth that was still lingering from that one moment of fleeting touch, you started walking to the cubby as you put Yuuji's backpack in his cubby, 

𝜗𝜚

For the rest of the morning, you tried to shake off the lingering feeling from that brief touch, it clung onto you like so stubborn thought,—you couldn't let go of it. You were focused on your task—helping the kids with the art projects, cleaning up the paint spills, and singing songs during circle time. Suddenly, you felt Yuuji tugging at your sleeve, making you turn to him. 

"Miss L/N," he asked, tilting his head, you blinked down at him, "Yeah, Yuuji"

He grins after getting your attention, "My papa, thinks you're really nice.

You felt your stomach flipping, your breath hitched as you processed his words, before letting out a small laugh, a nervous one. "Oh? And how do you know that?" you asked, cocking your eyebrows.

"Cause he say so" Yuuji shrugs, completely unaware of the way his words send your heart into overdrive, "—And-and, one time, he said, 'Miss L/N, is really good with you, and I said yeah! And he smiled really big" 

Your breath caught slightly, "Well, I think your papa is really nice too"  you confessed, patting his head, you watched as he beamed, satisfied with your answer before he ran off again to join his friends at the craft table. Meanwhile, you were just crouching down gripping the stack of construction paper, realizing what JUST HAPPEN.

He talks about you...

You knew him to be polite, and kind—and always took an interest in his son's care, but the fact he brought you up in the conversation made your heart pang, even with the passing remark, made something warm bloom up in your chest.

As the day dragged on, parents started trickling into the daycare for pickup. Your eyes darted to the door as you helped give the parents their kid's backpack, you won't lie that you were waiting for him to show up, but it was going too late

And then, he walks in.

This time he wasn't rushed, his tie was still loosened even more, and you were able to see a little bit of his chest. His sleeves were rolled up, exposing his strong forearms that you definitely shouldn't be looking at—but everything about made your ovaries go crazy.

He had a small, tired small on his face as he spots you with Yuuji, sitting on one of the colorful tables coloring.

You stood up, walking towards Nanami, 

"Hey," he says, his warm, deep voice made you even smile more.

"Hi," you reply, and you curse yourself for how breathless you were, then Yuuji runs straight to his father, hugging him tightly, "Papa!"

"Hey, buddy" Nanami chuckles, ruffling his hair, "Did you have a good day today?" he asked,

Yuuji nods excitedly, "Uh-huh! We painted and played outside, and Miss L/N made us animal-shaped snacks"

"Animal-shaped snacks, huh" Nanami looked up at you, and you shrugged, feigning nonchalance, "What can I say, the kids love it," you said, laughing—a deep, rich..genuine sound that made your knees weak. "That's impressive, I could barely cut yuuji's sandwiches into triangles without messing it up"

"Well,—if you ever need tips on some snack artistry, I'm your girl," you said, before you even fully processed your words, you were clearly flirting with him, but your words were already out, you watched him as he smirked.

"I'll keep that in mind"

Some silence came after, but it was all as long as it came. It was replaced by the familiar rush of parents coming in to get their kids. You stepped back, offering a small smile, "Well, you heard from him, Yuuji had a great day. I'll see you both tomorrow" You pointed at them, with a smile.

Nanami hesitates for a moment, "Yeah..tomorrow" but before he turns to leave, he pauses for a moment like he wants to say something else. He glances down at yuuji, who's busy putting on his backpack, then back at you, 

"By the way..I was wondering...do you—" 

"PAPA, CAN WE GET ICE CREAM..PLEASE!!" Yuuji suddenly yells, catching you off-guard, and interrupting whatever is about to be said.  You laughed as Nanami let out an exaggerated sigh, ruffling his hair, "Sure"

You watched as Yuuji tugged his dad's hand, as you stood there, —wait what was he going to say to you? Nanami glances back at you, his lips twitching before sighing dramatically, "Guess we lost this round" he says, looking at Yuuji, "but maybe next time"

Your breath hitches before you can respond, and he just winks at you, leaving you speechless, breathless,—oh my gosh, you were just grinning like a idiot.

𝜗𝜚

The next morning, you were typing the back of your apron, as you tell yourself not to get your hopes up again, maybe last night was just a playful teasing, nothing serious—just friendly chit-chat.

But the way he hesitated before leaving, the way he said, 'maybe next time', the way he winked—it all replays in your head as you prep the daycare, wiping down the table with wipes.  You shook your head, trying to push away your thoughts—you were at work, just another day, nothing special.

With the sound of the door opening, you turned your head to see Nanami walking into the daycare.

He wasn't wearing his usual collar shirt with a tie, instead, he was wearing a light brown sweater, and his hair was slightly messier. Yuuji was bouncing excitedly beside him, but Nanami's eyes were still on you,

"Morning," he says, his voice was smoother than usual.

"Good morning" you reply, forcing yourself to sound normal, even though your heart was still racing, yuuji let go of his dad's hand, and started to run to the toy corner, leaving you too alone. Nanami exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck, "So...about yesterday"

'yesterday?"

Your stomach flips, "What about it?"

He chuckles slightly, shifting on his feet. "I was actually trying to ask you something before someone—" he shoots a playful glare at Noah, who was completely entrance as he played with one of the toy dinosaurs in his hand.

You arch your brows, crossing your arms in mock suspicion, "What were you going to ask" you tilted your head, and he paused, as he thought for a moment, "You're really gonna make me say it, huh?"

You eyes widen for a moment, biting your lip, wait—

"I don't know what you mean"

He laughs softly, shaking his head, "I was going to ask...if you like to get dinner with me"

Dinner with Nanami, you felt your heart-stopping.

"Dinner?" your voice almost cracking, 

"Yeah" he says, clearing his throat,

"Like a date?" you asked, his lips curved into a dangerous smirk—the one that makes your knees feel weak, "Yeah, a date."

"Oh..wow, I—uh, wasn't expecting that" 

"Really" he arches a brow, "I expected that Yuuji isn't good at keeping my secrets" You glanced over at Yuuji, who was playing with the dinosaurs, and you shook your head with a grin. "I don't know...I think he's been pretty discreet" You smiled.

Nanami laughs, then exhales softly, "So..what would you say?"

"Yeah, of course" you smiled, feeling your face heating up. His shoulder relaxes, "Great—how about Friday?"

"Friday is perfect" 

"Good" he glances at yuuji then back at you, "I should go—before he accidentally sets something on fire"

"Good idea" you laugh.

"I'll text you"

"Y-yeah" you nodded, as you waved him 'goodbye'.

...

You were staring at your closet, as your clothes were scattered all over your bed, the door wide open, revealing an overwhelming selection, but everything was not—quite right. Too casual, too formal, too boring, too much.  You groaned in frustration, running a hand through your hair, as you pulled up another dress, holding it against yourself in the mirror,

it was an off-shoulder black dress, it was cute, simple, and flattering. 

You looked back at your phone, checking the time, thirty more minutes,

You felt your stomach doing nervous flips, as you became anxious about the date, you didn't know how Nanami had been having a crush on you for the whole time,— the man who somehow makes dropping his kids off at daycare look effortlessly attractive, making your ovaries practically screaming—is the one that asked you out on a date. 

You slip on the press, smoothing the fabric down, as you step into a pair of heels, looking in the mirror. The dress looked good on you, snagging the right parts of your curves. The sound of your phone notifications, you reached for your phone, he was almost here, and your heart was beating against your chest.

...

You walked out of your apartment, to hear the sound of a car pulling up outside making your heart stutter. You peek out the window, and sure enough, he was there. His car—sleek, understate,d and classy, just like him. He steps out, adjusting his tie, and scanning the street before looking at you,

"You look beautiful" he murmurs, a slow warmth spread through your chest as he compliments you. "Thank you" trying to keep your voice light despite your pulse practically racing now, 

You watched as he opened the door for you, the gesture smooth effortless, like second nature. You slide in, as he rounds the car to get himself inside, allowing you to have a moment to breathe, you look in the sideview mirror, giving yourself another look before he gets in.

You were going to have him for the whole night—and you were so ready.

.

The restaurant was elegant, but not too flashy—refined, intimate, the king of place that perfectly suit Nanami perfectly. The soft lighting casts a golden hue over the room, the quiet hum of jazz playing in your background.

It was clear that Nanami made a reservation for this restaurant, everything about him was precise, intentional, and well thought-out. He pulled out a chair before he took a seat at his own chair,

"Is everything alright?" he asked, like a gentleman

You nodded, smiling

"It's perfect"

The waiter hands you both menus, you don't glance at them though, not when Nanami was watching you like that—calm, observant, his gaze steady and searching.

"I have to admit" he began talking after a moment, setting his menu down, "This surprise you said yes"

You blinked for a moment, tilting your head slightly, "And why's that?"

Nanami exhales, rolling his sleeves up just a little, revealing his stronger foreman that you couldn't stop staring at, his finger tapping idly against the table. "You..." you pause, considering your words, 

"You're warm, bright. You make things lighter just by being there"

The compliment is unexpected, a raw in a way you don't often hear from him.

"And I assumed someone like you..would already have a boyfriend..or something"

Your lips parted, his comment catching you off-guard, by the weight of his words, "Well,  you murmur, "I suppose you're lucky I don't" you teased,

Nanami's lips twitched slightly—not quite into a smirk, but something else.

...

But you wouldn't have expected to be here, your dress pulled up as you were bent over for Nanami, feeling his cock being stuffed into you, as you moaned. You half-lidded eyes, as he roamed your body, his rough hands on your waist.

'pap!, pap!, pap!'

the sound of your wet cunt being plunged by Nanami's cock, echoed through the hotel room—it was too much, gosh.

Your clothes or whatever was left of your dress was on the floor, including his, the smell of sex lingering in the air, 

"Hngh.." you moaned, as his hips kept on rolling into you, feeling his cock hitting your cervix, making your eyes roll back. His hips slamming into your ass, with each powerful thrust. You felt yourself clenching down, tightening around his cock.

"Fuck" Nanami curses, 

He leaned down near your ears, his hand roughly grabbing onto your face, "You want me to fuck you harder, don't you" his voice was a low growl, "Want me to shove my cock into your tight—little pussy" you nodded frantic, you just wanted release. His cock just filled you up, feeling a bulge imprinted on your stomach, as he fucked you.

"Y-yes" you whimpered, your body trembling with need. You felt his grip pulling you near him, as you felt his washing board abs on your back.

You didn't know how many orgasms you were through, but your pussy was spent, battered, and bruised from his veiny cock.

 His rough hands cupped your breast, squeezing it gently, making you gasp. Your body arching towards him, as he rolled your sensitive buds between his fingers, your pupils were dilated,

You heard his low chuckle, as "You like that, do you?" his dirty talking making you more arousal, as you clenched down on him,  "S-shit" he groaned, 

His hips rutting against your ass, 

He leaned down, his mouth clamped down on your nipple, his teeth sinking into your tender flesh, and you mewled out. Your body bucking against his body, you felt your body trembling, you were so close, 

"You'll be such a good mommy for yuuji, huh," he said, his hot breath was against your ear, making you mewl, his cock was still fucking into your poor cunt. "Get you pregnant with my kid, and have you at home instead of the daycare"  he groans into your ear, 

You felt your orgasm building, the intensity growing with each passing moment. You moaned loudly, Nanami kept on thrusting into you. His hard cock hits your cervix again, sending shockwaves through your body.  He leaned into you for a rough kiss, as felt his tongue forcing its way into your mouth, moaning against him.

You withdrew, coming up for air, feeling his finger rubbing onto your clit, harshly rubbing on your nub, you felt light-headed from his touches, as you whimpered against his touch,

"Fuck—you feel s' good" he growled, his hips moving faster as he jackhammered you. His rough hands guided you up and down your cock,

"Ken m'so close—"

 you felt the coil in your stomach bursting, as you came down on his cock, clenching down tightly. Crying out in ecstasy, your body trembling from your orgasm, it was intense, feeling the pulse of pleasure radiating through your body.

You were riding out your high, as Nanami groaned in your ear, his cock pushing deep inside of you, filling you up. You felt his hot, gooey cum spurting into your womb, filling you with his hot seed. 

"Haaa..." your eyes practically rolling back as you felt cunt being stuffed, with his cum

"Your so good f' me..baby" he whispered in your ear, 

 so good...

[ducktoo]

Again

IVE’s Jang Wonyoung x M!Reader

Note: I have resorted to the sacred prompt list by Anon again….this helped me so much frrr. Hope you will post your first ever fic here so I can tagged you!!

This concludes the unofficial (or official ig) IZ*ONE marathon. @hyeyulenjoyer hope this was a fun ride for you. And thank you everyone for enjoying these fics as well! Also appreciate IVE for paying respect to the recent tragedy. All the dumb haters who find ways to hate them again....just touch grass pls.

(this was the perfect picture for this fic lol)

The tickets sit on your desk, undisturbed, their glossy surface catching the dim glow of your bedside lamp. You don’t even need to read the text printed on them anymore. The details are already burned into your brain.

A fan sign.

It was supposed to be special. The kind of thing you looked forward to for weeks, marked on your calendar with a little star. You were supposed to show up, tease her about messing up choreography, make her laugh in the middle of a serious performance, see that look in her eyes that was just for you.

Now, the tickets feel like a joke.

Your phone is face-down beside them, dark screen hiding the messages you haven't opened yet—the well-meaning texts from friends, the casual work notifications. All messages except from her.

Wonyoung.

You close your eyes, but it doesn't help. The memory of your last call with her is still fresh, the words playing over and over like a song stuck on repeat.

"I just don’t have time for this anymore."

"For us, you mean?"

"Mhm."

The way she said it—calm, measured, like it was just another item to tick off on her to-do list—had made something inside you crack. There had been no anger in her voice. No hesitation.

That…hurt more than anything.

You had wanted to say something, anything to make her stop. To remind her of the nights spent whispering over the phone until she fell asleep, of the rare moments when she let herself be vulnerable with you, of the way she would light up the second she saw you waiting for her backstage to take her to eat a whole cow together.

But you couldn't mutter a voice.

You had just sat there, phone pressed to your ear, fingers gripping the fabric of your hoodie so tightly it threatened to tear.

And then, just like that, she was gone.

It was three days ago.

Three days of checking your phone too often. Three days of convincing yourself you were fine. Three days of staring at these damn tickets on the desk and trying to figure out why you hadn’t just thrown them away. You should sell them. Give them to someone who’d actually enjoy them.

But something stops you.

Maybe it’s pride. Maybe it’s stubbornness. Maybe it’s the stupid, lingering part of you that refuses to admit that she’s really gone. Whatever the reason, you find yourself gripping them tighter instead of throwing them away.

You decided that you will go.

Not for her. Not to see her.

Just so you don’t have to sit in this room, drowning in thoughts of what used to be.

That’s what you tell yourself, anyway.

-

The venue is packed.

Fans shuffle forward in line, their chatter buzzing in the air like static. Excited whispers, rustling light sticks, the occasional squeal when a favourite member’s name is mentioned.

Your fingers tighten around the album in your hands. (Ironically you still hold onto her album)

This is normal for them. For the fans around you, this is just another fan sign. A chance to meet their idols, to share fleeting moments, to walk away with a signature and a memory they’ll cherish for years.

You should feel the same. Instead, you’re just… tired. Who could blame you, you’re about to come face-to-face with your ex-girlfriend.

And she has no idea you’re here.

Your grip on the album tightens as the line inches forward. The first few members greet you with polite smiles, their voices light and bubbly. You do your best to respond normally, but your mind is elsewhere, trapped in the inevitable moment that keeps creeping closer and closer.

You don’t need to look up to know she’s at the end of the table. You can feel her presence.

And then, suddenly, there’s no more time left.

Your album slides across the table. Long, slender fingers stop it in place.

There’s a small pause—so brief that no one else seems to notice—but you do. You feel it in the slight delay before she looks up, in the way her fingers tighten just a fraction around the album’s edge.

And then her eyes meet yours.

She looks the same. Flawless, as always. Every strand of hair perfectly in place, makeup soft and ethereal under the bright overhead lights. And those sparkly eyes that you often got lost in.

But…she’s not yours anymore. Not at all.

There was a flicker of something—recognition, surprise, something deeper—crosses her face. But it’s gone in an instant, replaced by a carefully neutral expression.

Her lips part slightly, but no words come out at first. Then…

“Hey.”

It’s awkward. Too awkward. You can feel the tension hanging between you, thick and suffocating.

You swallow, trying to ignore the way your chest tightens. “Hey.”

For a split second, she looks like she wants to say something else. Like she wants to break the script, ignore the rehearsed greetings and practiced smiles.

But then—

She doesn’t.

Instead, she picks up her pen, the mask slipping back into place. Her expression evens out, and in a voice so perfectly professional it almost stings, she says,

“Thanks for coming.”

Just like she would to any other fan. That made your stomach twists.

You should’ve known. Of course, she wouldn't acknowledge it. Not here. Not in front of all these people.

Still, it doesn’t make it hurt any less.

You swallow the lump in your throat. “Yeah. Would’ve been a waste of money if I didn’t.”

Something flickers across her face, but it’s gone before you can catch it. She presses her lips together, nodding slightly. “Right. Can’t have that.”

She signs her name, her handwriting as neat and practiced as always. But there’s a hesitance in the way she moves, a slight delay before she lifts the pen from the page.

When she finally pushes the album back toward you, her fingers linger just a second longer than necessary.

Then, in a voice so quiet that only you can hear…

“Take care, okay?”

She’s looking at you now. Really looking at you.

And for a moment, just one fleeting moment, she’s not the Jang Wonyoung, the IT girl, the global superstar.

She’s just…Wonyoung.

The girl who used to call you late at night just to hear your voice.

The girl who used to lace her fingers through yours under the table when no one was looking.

The girl who told you she didn’t have time for you anymore.

You stare at her.

The words stick to your throat. You genuinely don’t trust yourself to say anything.

So you just…don’t.

You just take the album, stand up, and walk away. And even as you disappear into the crowd, you can still feel her eyes on you.

-

You’ve been doing fine.

Or at least, that’s what you keep telling yourself.

It’s been a few days since the fan sign, and you’ve buried yourself in anything that keeps your mind occupied—work, games, mindless scrolling through your phone. Anything to keep yourself from replaying the look on Wonyoung’s face at the fansign. From remembering the way she hesitated before handing your album back. From thinking about the way her gaze kept flickering toward you as you walk away, as if she was looking for something.

Or someone.

But that’s not your problem anymore. You told yourself that the moment you left the venue.

Which is why, when your phone starts ringing at an ungodly hour, you almost don’t check the caller ID. Almost.

The second you see her name flashing on the screen, your stomach twists.

Jang Wonyoung.

The ringing continues, each second stretching unbearably. You should let it go. Turn off your phone. Pretend you never saw it.

But you don’t. Because deep down, you know you still want to hear her voice. So you answer.

“...Hello?”

There’s silence on the other end for a moment, followed by a soft giggle—breathy and drawn out, the kind that used to slip past her lips whenever she was feeling particularly affectionate.

"Dummmyy!" she hums, stretching your nickname like it’s some sweet, familiar melody.

“Wonyo. Are you drunk?” You sigh, ignoring the way your nickname for her easily rolled out of your tongue.

She giggles again, the sound loose and unguarded. "Mmm… maybe."

"Goddamn it." You rub your temples. "Where are you?"

A rustling noise filters through the receiver, followed by the distant hum of traffic. "Somewhere," she mumbles. "Some bar, I think. The girls took me out."

Figures.

You shift in bed, propping yourself up against the headboard. “It’s late.”

“I know,” she says, not sounding the least bit apologetic. “But I wanted to call you.”

You close your eyes, exhaling through your nose. “Why?”

She doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, there’s a soft exhale, the kind she lets out when she’s gathering her thoughts. Then, quieter…

“Because I miss you.”

Your fingers tighten around the phone.

"Don’t do that," you say quietly.

"Do what?"

"Say things you don’t mean."

Another pause. When she speaks again, her voice is steadier. "But I do mean it. I do miss you."

You swallow, trying to keep your voice steady. "Well, that’s not my problem anymore, is it?"

She goes quiet.

For a moment, all you hear is the faint sound of music in the background, the distant chatter of people. She’s probably in the back of some high-end bar or a private lounge that someone of her status often went. You can picture it too easily—her long hair falling over her shoulders, her lips painted red, the glow of the city lights reflecting in her eyes.

Your heart beat rapidly at the image.

"You came to the fansign," she says suddenly, cutting into your thoughts.

You rub at your temple. "Mhm."

"Why?"

"You already know why."

"Say it anyway."

You sigh. "Because I had the tickets. It would’ve been a waste."

She lets out a humourless laugh. "Right. Can’t have that."

Something about the way she repeats your words from that day makes your stomach twist.

There’s another long pause. Then, almost hesitantly.

"Did you feel anything?"

Your eyes widened. "Feel what?"

"When you saw me again." Her voice is quieter now. "Did you feel anything?"

Your jaw clenches. You want to lie. Want to say no, not at all. That it didn’t matter. That she doesn’t matter. But you can’t.

Because the truth is, you felt everything.

The way your heart clenched when she looked at you. The way your stomach twisted when her fingers hesitated over your name. The way your mind screamed at you to move on, to stop letting her affect you, to stop caring.

But you don’t tell her any of that.

Instead, you settle for, "Who cares anyway."

"Why not?"

"Because we’re done, Jang Wonyoung."

She sucks in a sharp breath, and for a second, you wonder if she’s about to cry.

"You-" She stops, swallows. When she speaks again, her voice is unsteady. "You didn’t even try to fight for me."

Your grip tightens around the phone, knuckles turning white. "You were the one who ended things. On the phone, may I remind you."

"I know," she whispers. "And I thought it was the right choice. But now I just—" She breaks off, voice cracking slightly. "I don’t know anymore."

You shut your eyes.

It would be so easy to give in. To tell her that you don’t know either, that you still think about her, that you still wonder if maybe—just maybe—this wasn’t supposed to end like this.

But what’s the point?

She made her choice.

And you’re tired of being the one left picking up the pieces.

"You’re drunk, Jang Wonyoung," you say, voice carefully even. "Go home and go to sleep."

"Wait—"

"Goodnight."

And then, before she can say another word, you hang up.

The silence that follows is deafening.

And yet, for the first time in days, you finally let yourself breathe.

-

Or at least, it should be.

You did the right thing, you tell yourself—cut it off before it could spiral any further. Before you let yourself believe, even for a second, that anything has changed.

But still, the weight in your chest lingers.

The room feels too quiet now, the kind of silence that presses in from all sides, making it impossible to ignore the thoughts creeping into your head. You lie back down, throwing an arm over your eyes, willing yourself to sleep.

You don’t know how much time passes before you hear it.

A knock.

You freeze.

At first, you think you’re imagining it. Sleep-deprived, emotionally drained, and still reeling from that damn phone call, your brain must be conjuring things that aren’t real. But then, the knocking got more insistent. Erratic, yet insistent.

Your brows furrow. You sit up, straining your ears.

"Who the hell…?"

It’s almost 3 AM. No one in their right mind would be visiting you at this hour. Then again, you just got a call from a drunk girl not in their right mind.

Knock, knock, knock.

It’s louder this time, clumsy and uncoordinated, like whoever’s on the other side can barely keep their balance. A sinking feeling settles in your stomach.

You begrudingly throw off your blankets and push yourself up, padding toward the door. Your hand hovers over the handle for a second before you sigh and pull it open.

And there she is.

Wonyoung.

She’s standing there in the dim, flickering hallway light, wrapped in a thin coat that does nothing to protect her from the cold. Her long hair is slightly tousled, the glossy perfection from the concert gone, strands falling loosely over her shoulders. She sways just the slightest, a delicate wobble on unsteady feet. Her lips are slightly parted, eyes glassy—not just from the alcohol but from something else. Something unreadable.

You blink.

She blinks back, like she’s just now processing that you’re standing in front of her.

Then, with absolutely no warning, she wobbles forward, collapsing against your chest.

You barely manage to catch her. “Jesus—Wonyo.” You gently hold her arms, steadying her. “What the hell are you doing here?”

"Surprise," she breathes, half-laughing, half-sniffling.

You let out a sharp breath. “Surprise? You’re seriously—” You stop yourself, jaw clenching. “How did you even get here?”

"I took a taxi," she announces, like that explains anything. Like that justifies her showing up at your door past midnight after breaking up with you.

You stare at her. “Alone?”

“Mmhmm.”

Your stomach twists. “Wonyoung, do you have any idea how dangerous that is?”

She just hums, leaning more of her weight onto you. Her forehead presses against your shoulder, and you can feel the slight tremble in her body.

You sigh, tightening your grip. “You’re freezing.”

“I was walking.”

“Walking where?”

She doesn’t answer. Instead, she tilts her head back to look at you properly. Her lips part slightly, like she’s about to say something—something serious, something she’s probably been holding in for too long. But then, she hiccups.

You close your eyes, exhaling sharply through your nose. “You’re unbelievable.”

She smiles lazily, like she didn’t just show up at your door dead drunk in the middle of the night after breaking up with you.

"You hung up on me," she murmurs.

You pull back slightly, just enough to see her properly. “Yeah. I did.”

"That was mean," she says, pouting. "I was talking."

"You were drunk."

"Still talking."

You shake your head, adjusting your grip on her. “Come on. You need water. And sleep.”

She hums, letting you guide her inside. “Only if you let me stay.”

You pause.

For a brief second, something in her voice sounds painfully sober.

But then she giggles again, burying her face in your chest, and you decide that you’ll deal with that in the morning.

For now, you just hold her close.

You sigh, pressing your lips into a thin line as you shift your grip on her. She’s barely standing at this point, practically melting into you like she has no bones in her body.

"Alright, come on," you mutter, wrapping an arm around her waist and leading her inside.

She stumbles slightly, her fingers gripping at your shirt as she giggles under her breath. "You smell nice," she mumbles.

You ignore that.

You close the door behind you with your foot, guiding her toward the couch. She flops onto it with zero resistance, her coat slipping off her shoulders. The moment she’s down, she tilts her head back, blinking up at you like she’s expecting something.

She doesn’t hesitate. Stumble inside like she belongs here.

And maybe that’s the problem. She did belong here.

And now? Now you don’t know.

Her eyes lazily drift across the apartment, lingering on the things she still remembers—the half-empty cup of coffee on your desk, the hoodie she used to steal draped over the chair, the faint indent in the couch where she used to curl up next to you.

Then she noticed your desk, the same desk where the fansign ticket sat just days ago. The same one she saw in your hands at the fansign days ago.

"You really came," she murmurs, not looking at you. "I didn’t think you actually would."

You shrug. "Like I said. Would’ve been a waste."

She flinches. Just the tiniest bit. But you catch it.

She exhales slowly, arms wrapping around herself. "It was weird."

"What was?"

"Seeing you there. But not... There, you know?" She fully looks at you now, and there's something raw in her expression. Something you’re not sure you’re ready to face. "You didn’t smile. You didn’t tease me like you usually do. You barely even looked at me."

"What did you expect?" you ask quietly. "You dumped me, Wonyoung. You can’t just expect me to act like nothing happened."

She presses her lips together, fingers gripping the hem of her sleeve. "I know."

You wait. Give her the space to say what she came here to say.

But she doesn’t. Not right away.

She defeatedly sighed, tucking her knees under her chin, looking smaller than she ever has before. She stares at her hands for a long moment before mumbling, "I don’t know why I came here."

You scoff. "Really? Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you drunk-called your ex, then showed up at his apartment in the middle of the night without a plan."

She frowns. "I do have a plan."

You raise an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

She huffs. "Step one: get inside. Step two..." She falters, looking away. "...I didn’t think that far."

You shake your head. "Unbelievable."

Silence stretches between you, heavy and unspoken.

Then, barely above a whisper, "Do you hate me?"

You freeze.

Your first instinct is to say no. Because of course you don’t hate her. You never could.

But that’s not the right answer, is it?

So instead, you tell the truth.

"I don’t know," you admit. "I want to. But I can't."

She looks up at you then, eyes searching. Hopeful and afraid all at once. "I messed up, didn’t I?"

You let out a hollow laugh. "Yea. Big time."

She swallows. Lowers her gaze again. "I thought breaking up would make things easier. For you…for both of us."

"Did it?"

She shakes her head. "No."

You run a hand through your hair, exhaling. "Then why did you do it?"

"I was scared," she says, and her voice is so small, so unlike the confident idol the world knows, that it almost hurts to hear. "I thought I was being selfish, holding onto you when I barely had time to see you. I thought you deserved more than stolen moments and rushed phone calls."

Your jaw clenches. "You didn’t even ask me what I wanted."

"I know," she whispers. "I thought I was making the right choice."

You sit down across from her, legs spread, elbows on your knees. "And now?"

She meets your gaze, vulnerability laid bare. "Now... I just miss you."

Your heart leaped a mile. This was the Wonyoung you always see. Not the glamorous and model-esque Jang Wonyoung everyone always see on TV. Not the well-spoken and powerful public figure everyone knows. Just…a gentle yet bubbly girl who snuggled up next to you on the couch at the end of the day.

But your brain should tell her to leave. To sleep it off, to sober up and think about this when her mind is clearer.

Then she reaches out—just the slightest, her fingers brushing against yours on the couch. And you don’t pull away.

"You’re drunk," you remind her, though your voice lacks conviction.

She smiles faintly. "Thanks…Mr. Obvious."

Silence. Then, tentatively, "Can I sleep here tonight?"

Another hesitation.

But just like before, you already know your answer.

You sigh. Your hand intertwined with hers.

"Go get a blanket. Wonyo."

She doesn’t move right away. Just watches you, like she’s memorizing you all over again.

Then, with a small, almost relieved nod, she gets up and stumbled into your bedroom as she dragged you along—the same bedroom she used to slip into after long schedules, the same one she used to call hers.

And just like that, the distance you tried so hard to create crumbles.

Again.

[atlabeth]

something about her

masterlist

pairing: spencer reid x fem gideon!reader

summary: you’re reminded why you’re really here while spencer does some unwanted self reflection.

a/n: things have been a little too fun and fluffy around these parts so i had to fix it. it’s easy to forget you’re still dealing w a stalker when you’re busy living in denial <3 enjoy the mess! this whole thing is in spencer's pov bc this all got soooo far away from me

title from the song by stephen sanchez

wc: 5.3k

warning(s): things start to ramp up! stalking, anxiety, lowkey panic attacks, angst, hurt/comfort, r almost has a panic attack, alcohol/mentions of alcoholism, the usual. but more bonding!!

Spencer can’t sleep. 

He’s tried every trick in the book. Counting sheep, counting to one hundred, counting to one hundred backwards, going through the alphabet, going through the alphabet backwards, methods with actual scientific research backing them—none of it works. He’s stared at the ceiling for most of the night. 

He feels like a hypocrite most of all, preaching the importance of adequate sleep when he’ll be lucky to get five hours. But it looks like you barely sleep as is. He probably should keep preaching to you. 

There’s a myriad of reasons to explain it. His hyperactive brain has been responsible for many restless nights. He’s still in unfamiliar territory, and he hasn’t gotten used to sleeping on this bed yet. Lest he forget, he’s your first and only line of protection here from your stalker. That’s enough to keep anyone awake, even FBI. 

But then there’s also… you in general. 

Spencer can’t say he tries not to think about you, because this past week it’s felt like the only thing he’s thought about. 

It’s practically impossible, even before you were shoved into this house together. You have a way of tunneling your way into a person’s mind and refusing to leave—especially his. 

Again, it’s easy enough to pass off. You’re the only ones here, and the time you’re not spending alone you’re spending with each other. Your only choice beyond isolation is to talk to Spencer, and it seems you’re slowly moving past preferring it over him. 

But he doesn’t think he can just pass this off.

He can’t get your smile out of his head. Your moments of levity are so few and far between that it makes them shine bright as the sun. Spencer has learned he loves how you look when you’re happy. He just wishes it wasn’t such a rarity.

Gideon’s lecture rings in his ears. He really had two jobs—keep you safe, and don’t fall for you. Hopefully he only fails the one. 

It’s not like he has to worry about it, though. You might not hate him as much anymore, but you still don’t really like him. As much as it bums him out, it’s for the best. It means that in a week or two, when the team has caught the unsub and all this is over, you can both go your separate ways and you’ll never have to see Spencer again. 

That bums him out even more, though. 

He lets out a long sigh. He doesn’t know why he’s surprised. JJ, Elle, now you—Morgan would say he really knew how to pick ‘em. Girls who didn’t like him back. 

Just then his phone rings, jolting him out what could have been a convincing play for sleep if not for his thoughts, and he groans a little. Spencer fumbles around for it without lifting his head from the pillow, only turning slightly so he can flick it open and place it against his ear. 

“Gideon, why are you calling this early?” he mumbles. 

“I hope you’re treating her well.”

The gravelly voice through the speaker is a shock, and Spencer doesn’t really process it. His brain still hasn’t turned on. 

“Gideon?” he asks again. 

“I know you ran away. Trying to protect her like you have any right.” 

His blood goes cold as the words finally register. 

This is their unsub. This— this is your stalker. 

“What do you want?” he asks, unable to keep the sharp edge out of his words. 

“You’ve hurt her the same way he has,” the voice continues. “He’s ruined our lives and you don’t care.”

Spencer’s mind is simultaneously blank and running wild. He knows he should try to profile him or talk to him to get something out of him but— but all he feels is anger. 

“What do you want?” he repeats, louder this time. 

“Think about your priorities, Agent Reid. I’ll be watching.” 

The disconnected tone blares in his ear before he can say anything else, and Spencer stares down at his phone in confused annoyance. 

What kind of bullshit game is this guy trying to play with you? 

First he stalks you for a month—possibly months— then sends pictures of you to your door, then forces you into hiding and now he’s just mocking you like this? 

If Gideon is the goal, this bastard is doing a great job of dragging you along. 

Spencer’s heart jumps into his throat all of a sudden. You. 

He grabs his gun off his bedside table then lunges to the door with all the athleticism of a newborn baby giraffe, nearly tripping in his haste to get out into the hallway. He slams your door open once he gets to your room, and the relief that floods through his body when you shoot up from your previously sleeping position is almost dangerous. 

“Spencer?” you grumble, still completely out of it as you rub your eyes. “What the fuck are you doing?” 

You’re alive. You’re okay. You’re still here. 

He opens his mouth to respond, still kind of out of breath, when his phone rings again. Spencer takes it out and is already pressing it to his ear. 

“What the hell do you want from her?” he barks. The absolute nerve of your stalker to call back—

“Reid, it’s me.”

It’s Gideon’s voice that comes out of the speaker this time, and Spencer feels the wave of red hot rage boiling in his stomach crash against a wall of confusion. 

“I—” He swallows deeply, his eyes flicking over to your befuddled expression momentarily before he feels himself flush bright red and look away. “I’m so sorry, sir. I thought you were someone else.” 

“You got a call?”

His blood runs cold. “You mean you got one too?”

Gideon curses and he hears him move around. Pacing in his bedroom, if Spencer knew anything about him. “Tell me my daughter is safe.”

“She— she is,” he stammers. “I’m with her right now.”

“Spencer, what the fuck is going on?” You’re sitting up now, much more aware than you were fifteen seconds ago. “Why do you have your gun— why are you talking to my dad?”

“Do a perimeter check,” Gideon demands. “If he’s there—”

“I know.” Spencer looks back at you and sighs. “You should talk to her.”

“I know,” Gideon echoes. “Let her stay on the line with me while you figure things out.”

He nods and takes the phone from his ear. “Gideon wants to talk with you.”

You’re standing up now, a dumbfounded expression on your face. “Hold on, you still haven’t answered me! What is going on?”

“I got a call from our guy,” he says. Your eyes widen and he can see your chest still. His heart clenches at the sight. “Gideon did too.”

“What?” you breathe. “Wh— what did he want?”

“To scare you.” Spencer holds up his gun. “Can you hide in the closet while I do a perimeter check?”

You scoff. Your demeanor is still shaken, but the fire is more prominent. He’s started to admire that about you. “Spencer, I am not hiding in the closet.”

“Then lock yourself in the bathroom again!” he exclaims. He doesn’t mean for the outburst, but he can’t help it. “Just— I can’t focus if I’m worried about you, and right now the only thing I can think of is how worried I am about you, so I need to know you’re safe while I do this.”

You stare at him, and Spencer stares right back, if a little frantic. He feels his chest rise and fall from the force, a stark contrast to your still body—similar to the panic he knows is in his eyes to the steely cool of yours. 

“I’m not letting you potentially face an insane stalker by yourself,” you finally say. 

Spencer huffs. “I am an FBI agent. I’ve faced worse things than insane stalkers.”

“We’ve been together this whole time,” you insist. “We— we can do this together too.” 

He looks at you again—he can tell you’re not going to move on this. Spencer eventually sighs and holds the phone back up to his ear. 

“I’m assuming you heard that?” 

“Let her go with you,” Gideon says. “It’s riskier for her to be on her own than outside with you. But stay on the line, and stay alert. Nothing can happen to her—do you understand?” 

“I won’t let anything happen to her,” he says. “I meant what I said.” 

“...Good.” 

Spencer holds the phone out to you again, and your lip curls. 

“I’m not—” 

“Come on,” he interrupts, gesturing with his head into the hallway. 

Your annoyance melts into acknowledgement when you realize he’s not blowing you off again, and you nod as you take the phone. Spencer wraps both hands around his gun as he starts moving, you matching his pace as you follow him. 

“Yeah, Dad,” he hears you say behind him. “I’m here.” 

This is what he meant by you needing to stay behind. He’s worried about you more than anything, yes, but he also can’t help but listen. Spencer has very keen ears, to everyone’s simultaneous disdain and appreciation on the team—it makes him a very good asset in the field, but also a very good asset when it comes time for office gossip. 

“No, nothing’s happened yet. Yes— yes, I’m okay, I promise. Spencer’s done an annoyingly good job of keeping me safe.” 

Once Spencer reaches the door, he peers through the peephole to make sure their unsub isn’t embarrassingly obvious. It’s clear, and he turns to face you and raises a hand, then places his finger on his lips. 

“Uh— I have to go dark for a sec,” you say. “We’re checking the perimeter. Don’t worry, I’ll scream if anyone tries to kill me. Be back soon.” 

You pull the phone away from your ear and nod at Spencer, and he holds his breath before he opens the door. 

The frigid air hits both of you at once, and he hears then sees your sharp exhale of breath. It’s been a while since either of you have been outside, but it’s good to know he hasn’t been missing superb weather. 

“Stay close and stay quiet,” Spencer whispers. “I’m your only line of defense out here.” 

He expects you to shoot back with some remark, but you merely nod in response. Spencer hopes he hides the shock he feels before he turns away and starts walking. 

Dawn isn’t for a few more hours—the only real light source is the moon high in the night sky. It doesn't exactly help his nerves to be doing all this in the dark, but part of him is almost thankful to be doing this. Spencer doesn’t know how to deal with you or any of the emotions you stir inside of him or the sleepless nights you cause because he can’t stop thinking of you—but he knows how to do his job, and he knows how to do it damn well. 

He just wishes it didn’t have to come with the unfortunate side effect of you being in immense danger. 

But Spencer does his best to push those thoughts to the back of his mind—right now, he has to have one focus. 

And he does. The two of you stick close to the side of the house, his eyes darting all over as he tries to dig out any details, any possible sign that the unsub was here. The ground is still a thin layer of mud from the storm last night, so it should be easy to find footprints. Spencer’s Converse aren’t doing a great job at keeping him upright—slipping in front of you is too embarrassing for him to even think about. 

All of a sudden, he stops, his arm shooting out in front of you. You don’t realize it for a second and you run into him, your hand wrapping around his arm on instinct to steady yourself. If he wasn’t so shocked at what he was looking at, he would have been bright red over it. 

“What the h—” 

“Footprints,” he whispers.  “Th— they’re almost gone, but—” 

“He was here?” you interrupt. Fear spikes in your voice and your grip tightens on his arm. 

“Last night, maybe.” Spencer swallows the doubt in his throat. It doesn’t matter what he thinks, how he feels—he’s not going to make you feel worse. “The rain probably washed most of them away.” 

“Spencer—”

“I am surprised these are still here, though,” he continues. “The rainfall was really heavy. I wouldn’t expect them to stay in mud like this—” 

“Spencer, look where we are!” you exclaim, gesturing hard with your other hand. He realizes that you’ve let go of his arm by now, but he pushes it out of his head and looks. 

“The window to your room,” he says. The blinds are closed and the lock is in place—he’s made sure every night—but there are small enough gaps between the shutters. 

“He was watching us last night!” Your breathing is starting to come heavier and faster now. “We talked about all that shit and he was just here watching and we didn’t even fucking know!” 

You’re on the edge of hyperventilating. Spencer has got to get you down or else you’re going to have a full blown panic attack out here. 

“Hey, hey— look at me.” He says your name and that, if anything else, gets you to listen and meet his eyes. They’re filled with an unbridled fear he hasn’t seen in you until now. “Don’t think about him. Don’t think about any of this. He’s not here.” 

“He was watching us—” 

“And we’ll figure out what to do next. But you have to stay calm. You can’t let him win.” 

You’re still harried, your chest rising and falling rapidly as your eyes dart all around. Spencer says your name softly, tucks his gun into its holster, then takes your hands in his, hoping that it gives you something to focus that isn’t the rest of this. 

“Just look at me,” he says softly. 

You suck in another shaky breath, but you’re not as frantic as before. You at least look him in the eye, and you don’t wrench your hands out of his grasp. Progress, if nothing else. 

“Breathe with me.” 

You nod—still panicked, but better. Spencer breathes in deep and you do the same, following as he counts up and down with his fingers. It takes a few rounds, but eventually, he’s gotten you off the edge. 

Spencer says your name again, just as soft as before. You’re still breathing slowly in and out. 

“How do you feel?” 

“Better,” you murmur. “I—” 

You’re interrupted by the phone you both forgot was in your hand, Gideon’s voice muddled as it comes from the receiver. You rip your hands out of Spencer’s as you come back into yourself, shaking your head and blinking a few times while you take a few steps away from him. 

“I’m here, Dad,” you say. “We— we’re okay. No, nothing happened.” 

Spencer blinks too. He looks down at his hands, then glances at you, then shakes his head. He walks back over to the footprint and crouches down, trying to keep his mind clear. He commits every detail he can to memory, doing his best to ignore the conversation with your dad in the background. 

Well, he tunes in a little. He can’t help it—he wants to make sure you’re okay. 

“We found a footprint outside my room,” you’re saying. “Spencer thinks it’s your guy. I have no idea. Yes, we are. You don’t have to be so pushy.” You sigh and he feels your gaze on him. “Spencer, we have to finish this up. Dad wants us back inside.” 

He clears his throat as he nods a few times. “Let me get a picture of this first.” 

You hand him the phone and Spencer snaps some photos from a few different angles, hoping forensics will be able to get anything out of it. He hears Gideon’s voice again and he holds it to his ear once more. 

“Gideon?” 

“Reid, get her back inside,” he says. “We can’t take any unnecessary risks.” 

“We haven’t finished securing the perimeter,” he says. 

“Then finish it and get back inside!” he exclaims. “You have proof that he was there—” 

“We don’t know it’s him,” Spencer interrupts. 

“We know there was somebody there!” Gideon shoots back. “I’m not risking her, and from what I’ve heard, you don’t want to either.” 

Spencer feels his cheeks warm as he looks back at you, and he pulls his gun back out of its holster. “Come on. We have to finish this up.” 

“That’s what I said,” you mutter, but you follow him without further protest. 

The rest of the check goes by quickly without any other distractions or surprises, and soon enough you’re back inside. While Spencer chats with Gideon, updating him in a calmer manner on everything with the phone call and the footprint, you’re ruffling through the cabinets. 

Eventually, he sees you pull out a bottle of clear liquid from the corner of his eye. He frowns and realizes that it’s vodka. 

“It’s 4:29 in the morning,” Spencer says, cutting off Gideon almost absentmindedly as you pop the bottle open. 

“And we found out that this place isn’t nearly as safe as anyone thought,” you respond sharply. “I think that warrants some drinking.” 

“That means that you should have a clear mind,” he says. “Alcohol impairs your brain’s communication pathways, as well as your judgment and coordination.” 

“I’ve gotten drunk before, genius,” you mutter as you search for a glass. You end up choosing a the mug you used for coffee the other morning then start pouring. “Enough to know it’s what I need right now.” 

“It can also cause mood swings,” Spencer says. “I think that’s the last thing you need right now.”

You roll your eyes, not even bothering to look back at him as you finish pouring a concerning amount of liquor into the mug. 

“What is going on over there?” Gideon asks. Spencer remembers he’s holding the phone and he puts it back to his ear. 

“I think your daughter is an alcoholic,” he comments. 

“I’m not an alcoholic,” you say sharply. “I just can’t focus on all this right now.” 

“It’s best if she gets some sleep,” Gideon says. “All of this is likely terrifying to her, no matter how hard she tries to hide it.” 

Spencer’s mind flashes back to your near panic attack—your wide eyes full of fear and harried breathing that only made you hyperventilate more when you realized you couldn’t control it. It’s too easy to think of you as some untouchable being from the way you interact with him, bothered by nothing and no one. 

The mask cracks on rare occasion. It makes you seem frighteningly real. 

“You’re right,” Spencer nods. You sip your drink without flinching. He doesn’t think he can even call it a drink if it’s just straight liquor. “We could all use some sleep.” 

“Just make sure she’s safe,” he says. “Make sure the whole place is secure. We’re not—” 

“Taking risks,” he finishes. “Believe me, I know.” 

Gideon is silent for a second, and Spencer takes the time to look at you. The bags under your eyes are even more prominent, and there’s a haunted glint in your eyes as you stare at the wall. You shiver ever so slightly, the outside chill still lingering on your skin. You’ve got pajama pants on but just a plain tee. You didn’t have time to put a sweatshirt on before he pulled you outside in the mania of it all. 

You really are beautiful—but you’re so damn tired. 

Spencer realizes that all he wants to do is give you some respite. 

“I’ll call you back later, then,” Gideon says. “To check in.” 

“Okay.” Spencer’s throat bobs as he averts his eyes from you. “Get some rest too, Gideon.” 

The other end hangs up without a response. Spencer stares down at the phone for a few seconds then sighs before he tucks it back into his pocket. 

“What’d he want?” you ask. 

“I can’t believe you’re drinking vodka out of a coffee mug at four in the morning.”

You frown. “You don’t get to judge me.” 

“It’s not good for you.” 

“None of this is good for me,” you enunciate. “What did my dad want?”

“I’m serious,” Spencer continues. “Drinking on an empty stomach can lead to low blood sugar— drinking at this hour is going to completely disrupt your circadian rhythm.” 

“You know what else has disrupted my circadian rhythm?” you ask mockingly. “Being here. Having a stalker. Finding out that said stalker was also here, watching us. I think that’s a little worse for me than the alcohol.” 

Spencer stares at you, and as you’re prone to do, you stare back. Eventually, he shakes his head and looks away, deciding to quit while he’s ahead. 

“He wants you to get some sleep,” he says. “Wants us both to.” 

You scoff and shake your head, downing much more vodka than you should in one go. Again, you don’t flinch—for a schoolteacher, you handle your liquor very well. “Like I’d get to sleep after this.” 

“It’s important,” Spencer insists. “You’ve gotten— what? Three hours of sleep?” 

“Well, all this excitement has woken me up,” you say. 

“Well, I’m tired,” Spencer says. “So I guess I’ll see you in a few hours.” 

He starts to walk to his room, figuring that you need time to cool off, when—

“Wait.” 

Your voice is oddly strangled, and Spencer stops in his tracks. 

“I—” you stop and sigh, your tongue darting out to wet your lips. “I don’t want to be alone right now.” 

“Our rooms are close to each other,” he says. “I’ll be able to hear if you yell.” 

You rub your eyes as you let out another haggard sigh. “I can’t stand to be in that room, Spencer. Not knowing that— that he was right there.” 

Spencer can’t look away from you. Your eyes glint with tears you’re trying to hold back, but you’re laid bare in a way he knows you hate. 

You’re being pushed to your limits against your will, and it kills him that he can’t do anything to help you. Honestly, sometimes he feels useless being stuck here while the rest of the team is out there actively working to help you. All he can do is stand around here and annoy you. 

Except you want him there. For the first time since all of this has started, you want him there. 

It’s the only thing he can do for you right now. How can he refuse? 

“Okay,” he says softly, and he nods. “Okay. We can share my room tonight.” 

The tension in your shoulders fades ever so slightly, and you—thankfully—set the mug down. “Keep your gun close.” 

“I’m not sure you want me shooting when I’m sleep deprived,” Spencer says. 

Your lips twitch just so, and Spencer’s heart skips a beat. He can’t help it. 

He should have known he was in too deep the moment he stepped into this house with you. 

-

“Very cozy,” you say. 

“It’s the same as your room,” Spencer responds. 

You shrug. “It’s messy. Makes it feel like home.” 

He feels his face flush. “I haven’t really been focused on keeping things clean.” 

“Relax.” You sit down on the bed. “I’m not judging you.” 

“Good.” Spencer glances at you as he moves his bag off of your side of the bed. “Because that would be very rude after the generosity I’ve shown you.” 

You laugh and Spencer finds himself smiling at the sound of it. He’s glad he’s turned away, and he’s glad he manages to push it away by the time he’s turned back around. 

You’re wearing a sweatshirt and sweatpants now, and it’s strange to see you look so… soft. Every part of you is so sharp, some of it jagged—sometimes you harden around him, sometimes you mellow. He’s a bit tired of the back and forth. 

Maybe that’s what makes him speak up. 

“I’m tired of us always being at odds.” 

Your eyebrows rise and you look at him. “Really?” 

Spencer nods, his will bolstered. “Really. We have a nice talk one night, and I feel like we’ve had a breakthrough, and then you go back to hating me the next morning. I’m— I’m sick of it.” 

He expects you to shoot back with some mocking comment like you always do, making fun of him for wanting more than what little you give him. But instead, you lay back against the pillows and shrug. 

“Okay.” 

He blinks. “Really?” 

“Really,” you nod. “I’m too tired to want to fight right now.” 

“You’re the one that always tries to fight me.” 

“Aren’t you fighting me right now?” 

Spencer shakes his head. “You’re unbelievable.” 

You chuckle. “Still fighting.” 

He stares at you. As usual, you stare back, but this time you can’t fully bite back your smile. For some reason, that gets Spencer to break. He smiles too, and he settles down on the bed next to you. There’s a pillow buffer between you, but it’s still a lot closer than he’s used to. 

Well, he did hold your hands earlier, but that’s because he was bringing you down from a panic attack. That doesn’t mean anything. 

“What a day,” he mutters. 

“And it hasn’t even started yet,” you muse. “I don’t know how you do this kind of shit every day.” 

“I’m not really the target of any of this,” he says. “I usually stay behind the scenes. I’m good with geographical profiles, not chasing down unsubs.” 

You look over at him. “You haven’t really talked about anything you do for the BAU.” 

Spencer shrugs. “I thought it would be a sore subject.” 

You pause. “You’re… probably right.” 

“I figured.” He chuckles, then glances over at you. “But you already know enough about me. You said you would talk about your job. Teaching, and your kids, and all that.” 

Your eyebrows rise. “You actually care?”

Spencer gives you a look. “I thought we were past that part in our friendship.”

���We’re not friends.”

He shrugs. “Whatever you say.”

You roll your eyes, but you go on anyway. “I’m a highschool teacher in Fairfax. You know Mount Vernon High?” 

Spencer nods. “I know the name of every high school in Virginia.” 

“Of course you do,” you huff. “But that’s besides the point. I did my student teacher hours there, and they offered me a full time position. I took it, so I guess I’ve been there since senior year.” You purse your lips. “It’s a little depressing when you look at it like that.” 

“Then don’t look at it like that,” he say. “You said you loved your job.” 

“I do!” You smile again, a bit lighter this time. “My teachers were a huge part of my life, especially in high school.” The lightness fades some, but he notices how you try to hide it. “If I could help even one kid the same way my teachers helped me, then I would have done something with my life.” 

“That’s very noble of you,” Spencer says. “I don’t think I ever would have guessed you were a teacher.” 

“Oh, please,” you say. “You’re a profiler. You’d figure it out.” 

“You wouldn’t know I work with the FBI at first glance.” 

“Well, I’m not a profiler. Besides,” you tip a shoulder, “I have the ulterior motive of wanting to introduce kids to the wonders of physics.” 

Spencer’s eyes light up. “You’re a physics teacher?” 

“I teach a load of science classes, but I carry the banner for AP physics.” You huff a laugh. “You’re probably the only one that doesn’t sound lame to.” 

“I love physics!” he exclaims. “I’ve got a PhD in engineering, remember?” 

You smile— no, you actually grin at him, and he can’t believe he finally broke through the barrier with science. 

“Trust me, I’d love to talk physics with you, boy genius, but—” you’re interrupted with a yawn, and Spencer resists the urge to do the same— “but I think I’m actually about to fall asleep.”  

Spencer shakes his head with a small laugh. He realizes that he’s relaxed while you’ve been talking, limbs looser and fully laying back against the pillows. 

“This was actually part of my master plan to get you to rest,” he says. “Talking science always works with the team.” 

He sees you smile out of his peripherals as you lay fully down, can feel every shift of your body against the mattress while you try to find a good position. 

“It wasn’t you,” you say. “It was the vodka.” 

 “Of course,” he agrees. 

Silence falls over the room as the two of you settle in. You take off your sweatshirt, a slight shiver running through you once you’re back in your tank top. Spencer removes his glasses, and he blinks a few times to adjust to the blurriness.

The bed is big enough for you to both have your own space,, and you’re both careful to keep your backs to each other. The silence is comfortable despite the previous animosity. Maybe all it really did take was for him to start talking science. 

Eventually, though—

“Thank you, Spencer.” Your voice is little more than a whisper, but it cuts through the silence like a knife. “I— I know you don’t like me. So it means a lot that you still do all this for me.” 

He’s quiet for a moment, taking your words in. The mingled sounds of your breathing are really the only things filling the room, and he can feel your weight against the mattress. It’s all oddly intimate. 

“You’re wrong.” He’s almost surprised at the sound of his own voice. “I do like you.” 

Your shock shows through the silence. Spencer takes his chance. 

“You’re going through something no one should ever have to experience, and you’re doing it with someone you think stole your life from you.” Spencer shifts ever so slightly. His hands feel inexplicably clammy. “It was unfair of me to take Gideon’s side so often.” 

“Still.” Your words are muffled as you speak half into the mattress. “We have more important things to worry about. It was unfair of me to spend so much time giving you shit. You— you didn’t even know I existed until a month ago.” 

“But now I do.” He pauses. “And I’m glad I do. So you can start looking forward instead of always looking back.” 

Again, silence. It lasts so long Spencer wonders if you’ve fallen asleep. Your breathing is thankfully steady (a side of him is always focused on your breathing just to make sure) and you don’t shift much, so he wouldn’t be surprised. You were exhausted—

“Spencer?” 

His eyes open. He didn’t even realize they had closed. You sound half-asleep, your voice nothing more than a whisper. He wishes more than anything he knew what was going through your mind right now. 

“Yeah?” 

“I’m glad you’re here.” 

His heart stutters so blatantly he’s sure you can hear it. Spencer honestly doesn’t know what to say—his mouth is so dry he doesn’t know if he can say anything. 

Spencer thought you hated him. You thought Spencer hated you. 

It’s ironic. 

“Me too,” he eventually manages. 

But there’s no response. You must’ve already fallen asleep again, just conscious enough to say a few words. The rude awakening mixed with the fear and alcohol couldn’t have done you much good. 

Spencer swallows the doubt in his throat and closes his eyes again, trying not to focus on you. It’s practically impossible. 

He’s glad, at least, that you’re able to sleep. You deserve to rest more than anyone. 

Eventually, the sound of your breathing lulls Spencer to sleep. 

You were the one thing he didn’t have on his list.

[pboogerswbb]

SO IT GOES - chapter 9

Paige Bueckers x oc Warnings: language, alcohol, barely proofread Wordcount: 3.7K A/C: HEY BABIESS here's chapter 9 but SOME DISCLAIMERS - this fic does not follow the official irl Dallas Wings game schedule before someone comes at me. ALSO this is so short i am aware but next one will make up for it i promise <33 ily guys please send reactions again bc i miss those and they're my favourite ever <333 OK ILY

-

Before London

“Zari! Zari, come sit over here,” Trey’s voice yells as I enter the plane, walking behind Paige ready to head back to Dallas.

“Shit,” I mumble to myself, making the blonde in front of me chuckle.

“I gotchu,” she whispers, clearing her throat before her voice rises above the crowd’s. “I need some help with the gameday vlog! Sorry Trey!”

The man’s face falls, watching closely as Paige allows me to pass her to slide into the window seat. 

“Thank you,” I say under my breath passing the blonde, the smell of her deodorant comforting me as it enters my nose. Paige smirks, sitting next to me and pressing her leg shamelessly against mine. I want to press back. But I need to remember our rules. Friends.

Walking into the bus for the airport many eyes had been fixated on me. Since my panic attack yesterday I had been feeling off, not quite right. Wearing the tight, uncomfortable clothes I had packed seemed like a nightmare, so Paige had lent me her hoodie for the flight home. For the first time my coworkers had seen me out of work clothes, which made me feel a little uneasy. Paige could tell, always smiling at me reassuringly when I began to feel unsure.

“You look good in that hoodie,” the blonde next to me grins as I buckle my seatbelt, eyes watching my each move. I give her a warning look. She only chuckles, raising her hands defensively. “Yooo, in like a friend way.”

“Okay,” I laugh softly, buckling the seatbelt. From the corner of my eye I notice the blonde’s eyes locked on me, a slight smile on me.

“Soo, do I get to drive you again?”

I laugh softly, feeling a familiar ease with the girl return. Since our talk yesterday after I freaked out both our moods had miraculously lifted. 

“You want to drive me?” I ask amused. 

Paige nods with that familiar grin I’d missed so much. I’m so enveloped in her presence I don’t even notice the plane beginning to take off.

“Bro I love driving you,” she admits. 

“Really?” I ask. Almost embarrassingly needy.

Paige leans back in her grey Nike tech, resting her head on the seat. “Yeah Iz,” she hums. “Best part of my day.”

I look at her for a moment, meeting her eyes, feeling butterflies grow in my stomach. No, just friends Zari. I quickly look away, gazing out the window noticing we’re about to take off. Before I can even ask, the blonde is gripping my hand hard, sending jolts of sparks up my arm, thumb rubbing my skin soothingly. 

-

“Shirley temple, thanks,” I say to the brunette bartender, her dark eyes quickly finding me in the middle of the other players lining up along the bar. A wide smile spreads on the girl’s face as she takes my order, beginning to make it in front of me.

“You sure that’s all you want?”

The bartender is flirting, I can tell. She’s got that spark in her eye, that sweet grin on her face, that tells me she wants me. It tempts me for a moment, the idea of taking her to my hotel room and working her all night.

“What are you drinking?” Izzie’s voice interrupts my thoughts, the girl completely forgotten the second she enters my mind. Her hand grabs my forearm and instinctively I wrap it around her lower back pulling her to the bar.

“A shirley, whatchu want?” I ask, unable to take my eyes off her. The bartender huffs, continuing to make my drink eyeing the both of us but I don’t even notice. Izara looks so unbelievably stunning, in a brown halter neck top and a leopard print skirt, makeup flawlessly done but hair left naturally wavy - rare for the girl. There was an ease in her demeanor the past few days since we’d become friends again. And truthfully, I felt the exact same. Our game against Liberty had been a clear loss but at least I got a few shots in. I wasn’t overthinking the ones I missed anymore.

“A dirty martini. But I can pay for it myself Paige.”

“Shut up,” I laugh, ordering the drink for her and letting the bartender work, looking around the club. Some of the Liberty players had asked us out, and after a game that wasn’t a huge flop, I had been quick to agree, inviting Izara and the rest of the media team out with all of us.

With an easy coolness I pay for the drinks, tipping really well as I always did which seemed to cheer up the pretty bartender a little. 

“Thank you,” Izzie’s sweet voice whispers, sipping on her martini and stirring it. I wanna tell her she looks beautiful, especially in the dim lighting of the club, the purple hue painting her skin. But I’m not sure if it’s too much, so I stay quiet.

“Paigeee!” Stewie’s voice rises over the crowd as she passes Arike, Lala, Lou and others, greeting them with a wide smile.

“My Husky,” the woman smiles, hugging me with one arm. “I think you owe me a drink since we won.”

I laugh, rolling my eyes. “Bro with the way you were flopping the second I touched you I think you owe me one.”

We laugh together, when I realise Izzie is just standing there, staring at us two.

“Oh yeah, this is Zari,” I hum, my hand wrapping around the dark haired girl’s waist without much thought.

“My brother’s such a fan of you,” the girl grins, shaking hands with the woman. Stewie smiles and nods.

“He’s got good taste. Nice to meet you,” she chuckles, quickly ordering a beer before returning to the conversation. “Why didn’t you tell me you got a British girl Paige?”

Izara and I burst into laughter, my hand quickly falling from her waist. A touch was okay, but I shouldn’t linger. A look was okay, but gazing wasn’t. There was a fine line between friendship and more that I was learning to tread carefully. But the urge to slip was there, bubbling beneath the surface constantly. But anything was better than not having Izzie in my life. My best friend in Dallas.

“Bro, no we’re not together,” I laugh, watching as Izara covers her mouth while giggling. There’s a hint of the faintest blush on her cheeks, but it’s gone as fast as it appeared. “She’s our social media girl.”

“Oh shit, my bad,” Stewie laughs. Zari waves her off with ease, shrugging. 

“Here you are!”

Trey interrupts the conversation, grabbing Izzie’s arm with a tight grip and pulling her closer. My hand falls off the girl, and I can’t help the flex of my jaw as I watch the way the man is intruding Izara’s personal space. I don’t even know why he had to come. I think he should’ve just stayed at the hotel. Why did he think anyone wanted him here? I sure didn’t.

“Oh hey,” Izzie chuckles as Trey throws his arm around her shoulder. It angers me. What angers me even more is that the dark haired girl doesn’t seem to mind. She remains still, sipping her martini, popping an olive into her mouth speaking to Stewie with ease. About what I couldn’t tell you. They almost look like a couple. I wanna kill him.

“So where’s Marta?” I ask Stewie, trying to refocus my attention.

“She’s at home with the kids, you wanna go sit down somewhere? It’s so loud here and I wanna catch up.”

I glance at Iz whose back is fully turned on me now, engaged in conversation with the brunette, brown eyed man. I think he’s 2 inches shorter than I am. That makes me happy.

“Yeah lemme get another drink first.”

-

After four martinis I can feel the way I’m losing control over my gaze. My eyes were stuck on Paige, sitting between Stewie and JJ, sipping on her drink and throwing her head back as she laughs. She looks stunning, in a slicked back bun, black denim shorts ripped on her thighs and an oversized t-shirt, silver chains dangling on her chest, diamond studs glimmering in the purple light of the club. My sight couldn’t move from the way Paige’s veiny hands are wrapped around the glass, her complexion tan from the Dallas sun of early summer.

“I could live here for sure… Like start a family here and shit,” Trey is speaking my ear off as always. If that man was good at something it was talking without needing a single reply. So I let him blabber. Not that I’m paying much attention to what he’s saying, mind far too wrapped on the blond sitting in the far corner.

“You want kids?”

This snaps me out of my tipsy thoughts, my head turning to the man. “Huh?”

“You ever want kids?”

Really not a conversation I want to have right now. Or ever with Trey. Why is he even talking to me about this? 

“Uh, yeah, I do,” I murmur and down my martini, letting it burn my throat satisfyingly. I don’t wanna think about it, about the life I gave up when I left Jasper. How even if I had a horrible husband at least I’d probably be pregnant, I’d be a mom soon. It was the one thing I had always wanted, to be a mom. Now I felt lost, worried I might never find that person for me - to have children with. I couldn’t bear to imagine it.

“Yeah?” Trey grins, revealing a row of white teeth. “How many?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” I chuckle awkwardly, putting my glass down. “Three, I guess.”

The man gasps, his hand grabbing my arm in excitement. “Me too! I want all boys. I could see you be a boy mom.”

I disagree so hard I can’t even fathom what’s coming out of his mouth. I always wanted a girl, more than anything. Trey clearly did not know me at all.

“Girl she’s so hot…”

I hear the two bartenders whispering to each other behind the bar. I snap my head towards them and notice both of the girls glancing towards, who else but Paige, and blushing.

“I know I’m straight but like… For her?” The red haired girl giggles. I roll my eyes, feeling annoyance rise to my chest, making it heave.

“Go ask for her number, she wants you for sure.”

“You think?”

“She was looking at your ass earlier.”

I feel hot in the face, angry, for whatever reason. I try to clear my throat to get their attention, to order another drink and partly to stop the conversation. But they don’t hear me.

“Fuck, okay, I’mma do it. Wish me luck.”

I watch as the red haired girl walks to the table, holding a tray of drinks I guess the group of girls ordered, obviously swaying her hips from left to right in an amplified way. Surely she was delusional, it would be stupid of Paige to be getting with random bartenders as famous as she had become.

It’s as if they move in slow motion, the girl leaning down with a bright smile placing the tray of drinks on the table. Paige’s blue eyes flash as she looks the bartender up and down and flashes that smug, flirty grin I knew much too well. The girl exchanges words with Paige, though I can’t hear over the thumping beat playing loudly. But from the looks on Stewie’s and JJ’s face I can tell it’s something flirty. The blonde digs her phone out of her pocket and allows the red haired girl to type what I assume to be her number in it.

“What can I get you?” The second bartender asks, as I lean against the bar, eyes sharp and watchful. I don’t hear her. I feel my face turn red, a strange frustration swelling up inside me. I wanted the girl to get away from Paige, my Paige.

“Zari? You tryna order?”

“Uh what?” Suddenly I snap out of my head as Trey taps me on the arm. The bartender is staring at me with expecting eyes. 

“Would you like something to drink?” She asks, her voice overly sweet. I decided I didn’t like her either, because why had she egged the red girl on?

“Uh, just a vodka soda, please,” I mumble, digging for my wallet.

“I got it,” Paige’s familiar, low voice murmurs from behind me, sliding her card smoothly to the bartender. I feel her front press into my back as she reaches over, the heat of her body making my mind spin.

“Thought you already got your drink,” I huff, and it comes off much more rude than I intended.

I feel the blonde chuckle soundlessly, her warm breath teasing my ear. “Need a straw,” she says, grabbing one from the holder set up on the bar. I feel irrationally upset, even more so now that she had paid for my drink. The moment it’s handed to me I scoff a quiet thanks, pushing off the bar and walking away with urgent steps. Paige is persistent as always, following close behind me like a puppy.

“Yo you good Iz?” She asks. The alcohol was hitting me, making my brain stupid and inconsiderate, words spilling from my lips before I could think them through.

“I don’t want to talk to you.”

Paige scoffs loud, still following at my heels as I hurry around the club aimlessly, trying to shake her off. I should know that was impossible with the blonde.

“What’s your problem?” Paige asks. I roll my eyes, but don’t answer. Frankly I don’t know what the answer is. I search my brain, looking for any valid reason or excuse for me to be mad. Because I couldn’t deal with the answer being that I have feelings for her. I just couldn’t.

“Nothing, just leave me be.”

Paige grabs my arm, stopping me and holding me still with ease and flipping me over to face her. My green eyes circle the walls of the club as we stand on the edge of the dancefloor, lights flashing purple, pink, blue, avoiding her gaze, her ocean eyes.

“Iz, what the hell is going on?”

I scoff again, shaking my head. “You’re being stupid. Flirting with random bartenders. You’re famous like actually famous. You need to be smarter Paige.” Good excuse. I almost believed it myself.

Paige furrows her brows, taken aback. “Bro, huh? Whatchu talkin about?”

“The girl you idiot!” I’m speaking with my hands now, flailing them everywhere, forcing the blonde to let go of me. “If she goes to the press it’s gonna be everywhere!”

“Who cares? I did nothin’ wrong! I’m single,” she argues back. She’s right. I was gonna lose this fight.

“Shouldn’t you focus on getting your game right first? Maybe that’s why you haven’t been doing as well, you’re unfocused.” It’s a low blow. I don’t even mean it. I knew how in her head Paige was about her games recently. I regret it the second it leaves my mouth. I should never drink again.

Paige goes silent, and raises her brows, kissing her lips with a bitter smile. “Wow Iz, fucking wow.” And she turns around and leaves me standing there alone.

-

“Hey, everyone’s start is hard. Don’t get in your head about it. You’ll find it.”

Stewie’s been staring at me staring at the floor and moping for the past ten minutes, sipping on my drink and biting my nails. Her words are so sweet that I don’t have the heart to tell her that my game is the absolute last thing on my mind. I’m still trying to comprehend the conversation between me and Izzie, the attitude she was giving me and wherever it was coming from, because I had no idea. I cross my legs, huffing and nodding as if to acknowledge Stewie’s words, though my head was filled with images of Izara’s stern face, the way she rolled her sharp eyes and crossed her arms over her chest, the way her voice sounded once she got angry. Everything about it had turned me on, insanely much. I’m really in it huh?

“Unless you’re Miles, now that girl’s been hooping,” JJ chuckles. Stewie nods with a smile, agreeing.

“Yeah she’s had a good start this season.”

JJ gets up, looking over at us two. “Anyone want another drink?”

I shake my head, still working on the fruity concoction I had ordered last. Once we’re alone, Stewie turns to me, studying my face.

“You good?”

I shrug, leaning back on my seat.

“Ohh, it’s a girl huh?” 

I grin and nod. “Always is.”

Stewie nods and looks around, watching the way my eyes glared over Izzie who was sitting next to Trey, looking at everything but me.

“It’s the British girl huh?”

“She’s…” I murmur, taking a sip of my drink. “She keeps me on my toes I’mma say that much.”

“Uh oh,” the woman laughs, clearly expecting me to keep talking. It works, the drinks making it easier for me to open up.

“Nahh, I’m playing. We’re just friends. But now she acting crazy over how I’mma ruin my public image or some shit by getting a girl’s number,” I groan. “Like she was forreal upset.”

Stewie listens with a small grin, nodding and glancing between me and the girl I was staring, my chest aching to touch her the drunker I got.

“I see that basketball IQ doesn’t translate to real life huh?” She asks. I don’t understand what she means. Reading my confused expression Stewie continues. 

“I don’t think she wants to be just friends. I think she’s jealous Paige,” Stewie nearly laughs at my ignorance. I’m about to get defensive, knowing this was a ridiculous thing to say. Why would Izzie, who wanted us to be friends, who kept rejecting me time after time, be jealous over me? But there’s no other reason, no other motive for her actions that makes sense. Izara is jealous over me.

-

I enter the women’s bathroom, trying to mull it over in my head. Had I had it wrong this entire time? Maybe Izzie had feelings for me, the same kind of feelings I had for her. She was just better at hiding it. The girl was always cool, calm and composed. Of course she was good at hiding it. It only makes sense. I walk to the sinks, watching my reflection in the mirror when Izzie opens a stall door, heels tapping on the marble of the floor as she walks to the sinks.

Her green eyes lock with mine in the mirror, her face still hard and stubborn. She’s not gonna talk to me, her gaze swiftly moving to the sink where she’s washing her hands diligently. Fine. If she won’t I will.

“Hey,” I say. Without looking at me she responds.

“Hello.”

I approach the girl, stepping closer to her. I needed to talk to her, I hated the coldness between us, even if it hadn’t lasted for longer than the past hour. Every minute we spent not together felt wasted to me.

“You thinking about heading back to the hotel soon?” I ask in hopes it would be enough to show effort for reconciliation. Instead she furrows her dark brows, turning to me.

“What you’re not gonna go home with that girl then?” She crosses her arms, green eyes even more vibrant in contrast to the black lining her waterlines. Not reminding me as much of the deep dark green of the forests back in Connecticut, but more so like the bright green of the first blades of grass pushing through the dead ground in the spring.

She continues before I can answer, face scrunched up in annoyance. “You know what, all those girls you bring home too, it’s so inconsiderate. It is so loud, it drives me insane! You should think of your neighbours once in a while, you know!”

Stewie was right. She’s jealous. Actually jealous of me with other girls. An involuntary grin begins to grow on my face, as I gaze down at the girl, loving the way she was a couple inches shorter even with heels. Thankfully the bathrooms are empty besides us two, because I’m too euphoric to even check.

“Honestly, it’s just being a bad neighbour and-” Izzie stops talking, noticing my expression, scoffing. “Why are you smiling?”

“You want me to stop?” I ask, my voice teasing.

“I- wh- pardon?”

My grin falls, expression turning serious, my voice turning low and genuine. “If you don’t want me with anyone else just say the word.”

Izzie’s eyes flutter shut for a moment as she takes my words in, cheeks beginning to redden as she comprehends them and what I mean.

“N-no it’s not that,” Iz murmurs, barely able to hold eye contact with me. “It’s just. So loud sometimes.”

I nod, stepping closer to her, our fronts nearly touching, electricity between us tingling, sending chills all over me.

“I’ll stop.”

“No Paige, you don’t need to. I don’t care about who you sleep with.”

“You don’t?” I ask, my gaze stuck on her face as her lips part to let out a shaky breath. She feels it just as much as I do.

Izara shakes her head slowly, never breaking eye contact. 

“Are you sure?” I ask, tongue swiping over my lower lip.

We stare at each other for a while and I can tell the dark haired girl is thinking it over, considering every detail before admitting to something that might end in a mistake. Just as she opens her mouth to speak, the door to the bathroom opens, a group of women walking in. I quickly avert my gaze, Izzie doing the same as I take a step back and clear my throat, feeling the burn between my legs return in a painful, desperate way.

Izzie takes a deep breath, turning her back to me as she dries her hand wordlessly. I watch her, her shiny black hair and the way it swings in the air, her long neck and jaw, the sharp slope of her nose.

As the girl takes steps towards the exit, walking past me I grab her arm carefully, but sternly, pulling her close.

“I mean it Izzie. Just say the word and it’s done. They’re gone. Just a word, ma."

Iz breathes heavy, looking at my face with heavy lidded eyes before nodding. I let go of her, my fingertips burning where they had touched her skin. The girl exits the bathroom, leaving me on fire, a tingling in my lower abdomen making me dizzy.

-

taglist:@wbbgetsmewetter@thaatdigitaldiary@pb524830@bueckersfive@lupinqs@sierrale8ne@d3arapril@lovegalor333@avvwritesstufff@rosemariiaa@bueckers22@taylynbueckers44@unadulteratedcyclepaper@rizzlerbuckets@wosolipa@bridgetloveswomen@paiges-1vur@slut4uconnwbb@xxloveralways14@bueckersbitch@janaelalfysblunt@omg-imtumbling@angryflowerwitch@ohbueckers @ohmybueckers

[candycandy00]

General NSFW Headcanons for One Piece Men

These are just some general sex/intimacy based Headcanons for some of my favorite OP men. I left out Law and Kid until I see more of them post time skip.

Keep in mind these are just my personal opinions! These are all assuming a Fem Reader. Dividers by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more!

Luffy: 

I’ve noticed while rewatching/ catching up that this guy is a hugger. He’s not shy at all about giving out affection to people he cares about, and I think that would carry over to more intimate moments. He’d definitely be the type to snuggle up to you during sex, wanting to be as physically close as possible. He might even wrap his arms around you multiple times, not in a restraining way but in a “I just want to completely wrap myself around you” way. 

Some people seem to think Luffy would be completely clueless about sex, but I disagree. I think it’s very likely that Ace explained a few things to him. They were at perfect ages (17 and 14) before Ace set out for a big brother to tell his younger brother about stuff like that. Even if Ace had no actual experience himself, he had to have heard a lot of talk from the bandits. So I think Luffy is aware of the basics at least, and his instincts would cover for whatever knowledge he lacks. He’s surprisingly perceptive at times.

Zoro:

Zoro is the one who would be clueless. Not about the mechanics of sex, but about what you want. This man would miss every signal you send his way, so you’d have to literally state outright that you want to have sex with him. During the act, you’d have to be very clear about what you want him to do, at least the first few times. You’re better off just taking his hands or head and putting them where you want because this guy can’t follow directions to save his life. 

Once the two of you have had sex a few times and he’s learned what you like, he would be a great lover. Zoro puts his all into everything he does, and that includes pleasing his darling. One of his best points is his stamina. He could go for multiple rounds without breaking a sweat, so prepare for long nights.

Sanji:

He’s all about his darling’s pleasure. He’d get much more satisfaction from watching you cum than from cumming himself. He would have a massive praise kink, both giving and receiving. He’d also be clingy and want to be intimate in some way with you nearly all the time (though he’d be happy with just cuddling, giving massages, etc. if you’re too tired for sex sometimes). He’d definitely prioritize your needs and wants over his own, mostly because making you happy is what he needs and wants. 

I think he’s definitely a virgin, and he’s the type who will fall madly in love with the first woman who sleeps with him. Once he’s in love and in a committed relationship, he’s not going to be chasing other women. He’ll still notice a beautiful lady, but he won’t comment on them or visibly react, because he doesn’t want to upset his darling or make her feel insecure.

Usopp: 

This guy right here? He’s the one to keep your eye on. Because once he actually gets some experience, he’ll be one of the best lovers in the series. The first time he’s gonna be nervous and awkward, probably boasting that he’s had a thousand lovers whom he satisfied completely (while nearly fainting from nerves). But once he gets over those initial nerves, he’s gonna lock in on learning all the best techniques. When Usopp gets serious about something, he studies and practices until he’s great at it. 

I also have a headcanon that he’s got a huge dick (I mean, look at that nose) and just doesn’t know how to use it yet. Emphasis on yet. Give him some time and he’ll rock your world.

Franky:

The best thing about Franky as a lover is that he’s completely nonjudgmental. Have a wild kink you wanna try? He’s shrugging and saying sure, let’s go for it. Insecure about a part of your body? He’s showing you some crazy modification he’s made to his own just to prove all bodies are unique and wonderful. You’re never gonna feel shamed over anything with Franky, and that’s so freeing. The next best thing is that this guy will come equipped with all sorts of toys and gadgets to spice up the sex. If he doesn’t have what you want, he can just construct it on the fly. 

It’s hard for me to decide whether I think he’s had a lot of experience or not. I’m guessing he’s had some given his age, background, and being a self professed pervert. He seems like he would be a sex positive person, or maybe just see it as no big deal. Just another way to express affection. I think he’s pretty chill about sex, basically.

Brook:

Okay, so Brook is pretty limited by the fact that he’s a skeleton and has no dick or tongue to work with. But he does have those long pianist’s fingers, and he’d certainly be happy to use them to please his darling. As we all know, he also has a panty fetish, so the easiest way to get him riled up would be to model the cute new sets you bought. He’s still a gentleman though, so he treats his darling with care and respect, always asking for permission before touching you and making you feel valued. 

He probably had a decent amount of experience when he was alive, but he’s very new to being intimate as a skeleton. There would be some trial and error and he might get a little depressed about his limitations, but I think he’d get over it fairly quickly and just be happy to have someone special in his, uh, life.

Ace: 

In my opinion, Ace would be very warm and loving in bed. Very passionate. Like his brother, he’d be very affectionate with his darling. This is a man who places a ton of value on bonds, on loving and being loved. He’s definitely going to show how much he loves you, in the most intimate way possible. Think lots of eye contact, physical closeness, slow and very deep fucking. I don’t think he’d be the super romantic type to leave a trail of rose petals to the bed or whatever, but once the two of you are in bed he’s giving you his undivided attention and just enjoying the feeling of being inside you. Also kinda think he’d have a bit of a breeding kink. 

I think it’s highly likely he’s had some experience. He’s a handsome, likable guy who traveled around a lot by himself. Judging by how he blushed around Makino, it’s a safe bet he likes ladies. Specifically, pretty ladies who show him kindness. I don’t think he’d be shy or awkward but I can’t really see him acting like some arrogant sex god either.

Shanks:

Get ready for some sloppy drunken sex. I’m talking making out as you both make your way to the bed, tripping on stuff along the way and giggling like teenagers. You might not remember everything that happened, but you know it was fun! I somehow can’t picture Shanks settling down in a committed relationship but he would agree to being exclusive with you. So you guys wouldn’t be a couple but anytime he’s drunk and horny you’re the one he goes to. And if you’re in his crew, you’re probably half drunk yourself. But you guys have an agreement, so consent was already given. Shanks would give you a great time and be charming and funny, but he’s gone by the time you wake up. 

He’s definitely had an active sex life. He’s too charming not to. Too well traveled and handsome. And while some of his past lovers miss him, none of them regret their time with him and look back on it fondly.

Buggy:

Similar to Usopp, Buggy would be full of false bravado at first. But when it comes time to do the deed, he’s strangely shy. Buggy isn’t used to being loved and cherished. He hasn’t had that since he was a kid, so he’s going to need a lot of reassuring. You’d have to stroke his ego a bit to get him in the right headspace to have sex. But once you do, he’ll be a surprisingly sweet and giving lover. He’ll want to be a dom, but will usually end up being a bit subby to you. He’d probably become very emotionally attached to you if you give him a blowjob. Giving him any sort of kindness or genuine love will make him fall head over heels.

I’m torn between thinking Buggy is still a virgin and thinking he had some experience in his younger, wilder days. He doesn’t strike me as the type to have a lot of one night stands, but he could have had a relationship at some point that we just don’t know about.

Crocodile:

A lot of people want to see him as a brat tamer, and I see the appeal, but in my opinion he’d prefer a mature relationship. I think he’d want someone classy that would match his vibe. So he’s going to keep his darling dressed up in the finest clothes and jewelry. I have a headcanon that he’s a sucker for fancy lingerie. He loves buying it for you, seeing you wear it, and especially taking it off you, slowly, piece by piece. I also think he’d be into some light bondage. Nothing too elaborate, just tying your wrists together with his belt occasionally. 

For Crocodile, the most intimate act would be showering together. Because of his weakness to water, he’s incredibly vulnerable while showering, so he’s only going to invite you to join him if he trusts you completely. Doesn’t get more intimate than that.

Rob Lucci:

He’s going to be a very stoic lover, not very verbal at all in the heat of the moment, but his body will tell you all you need to know. He would be very primal, hands on your throat, taking you from behind, growling in your ear. But at the same time, he’s making sure you’re totally satisfied. Don’t expect an actual relationship with this man. He’ll rearrange your guts and then disappear before you can roll over. But he keeps coming back to you. He might even develop a soft spot for you, so long as you respect his privacy and don’t ask for a commitment. 

The bird stays in the room, but give it some crackers as a distraction and it won’t stare the whole time. 

[lananiscorner]

Reblogging this version and stealing the tags as well:

#i realized this when I was following#gen padalecki#she was talking about the garden#and livestock#and book clubs#and doing so many things with the boys#and i realized that if she had to work#like i have to work#and didn't have the money to hire people to do shit#she couldn't do all of that either#and then i unfollowed her#because it wasn't relevant to me#and was just making me feel bad about myself#even though i knew we were not on the same boat#she's in a yacht#and i'm in a rowboat#and you can't compare the two

This is so important, especially when it comes to body image.

If you ever find yourself looking at someone and thinking "damn, I wish I was as slim and toned as that insta model" or "damn, I wish I was built like that Navy Seal dude"... remember that this is literally PART OF THEIR JOB. You can't be an insta model without being slim and you can't be a spec ops soldier without being in excellent, buff shape. And as a result, people like that spend A LOT of hours in the gym. Like, a lot A LOT. And no, not off hours, after already working for 8+ hours a day like you with your desk job. If you are trying to emulate people like that while not being in that job, you are essentially trying to do two jobs at once. And that ain't a sustainable way to live (you can make it work, but good grief, at what cost...)

And any time you look at someone rich enough to afford somebody else to do their cooking and cleaning and child care? Dial your own expectations way the hell down, because those are freaking time sinks. There's a reason rich people hire other people to do that shit for them (because it's work--and unless you are rich it's work you HAVE TO do for free, because cooking is kind of important for eating and cleaning is kind of important for being healthy and if you don't take care of your kids they have a high risk of ending up dead).

I would also add to this that sometimes it really is too late/impossible to strive for something that you would like to be your top priority. I have asthma and I'm nearing 40. Even if I started working out right now, with the same diet and exercise regimen as a soldier, I would not be able to get that level of fitness, because 1) my lungs aren't build for that and 2) aging is a thing and my body's prime days are over.

And that sucks. Realizing that there are legit, unchangeable roadblocks to things you would like to make your priority SUCKS. And it's okay to be angry and frustrated about that for a while, and to grieve the opportunities you wish you had but never will. It's perfectly fine and normal and healthy. So long as you remember that grief is not a place to be forever. Life goes on. There's more beauty to find in the world and so much more to live for rather than wallowing in sadness forever.

So, if you find yourself with something that you want to make your priority, but cannot, for circumstances outside of your control, ask yourself "okay, but how much do I have to dial back the intensity to make it work and still have it be a top goal?"

One of my goals for this year is to go swimming again. I used to do that competitively. I would love to get back to that same level of intensity again, but 1) I am getting old, 2) I have a full-time job, and 3) it's not something I can just do at home anytime I want--I have to take a bus to the city swimming pool to get there and they ain't open 24/7. So no, I will not be swimming again with the same regularity and intensity as before, but I will try to find a time window that will work with my job and the commute and the opening hours and I will take as much swimming as I can get, because good grief, I miss the water.

One thing that has made me a much more well-adjusted person is a clip I once saw of Hank Green saying that anyone can be in amazing shape as long as being in amazing shape is one of their top three priorities.

(This is obviously a generalization that isn't true for everyone. But it is true for most people and I'm proceeding from there.)

This "top three priorities" framing has genuinely reduced my tendency toward jealousy and self-comparison a lot. Now when I feel envious of someone’s spotless, aesthetic home, I think to myself, “Having a spotless, aesthetic home is probably one of their top three priorities. It’s definitely not one of mine, so I shouldn’t expect my home to look like that.”

Or when I see an influencer with a body that takes a ton of work to maintain: “Maintaining that body is obviously one of her top three priorities, because it’s her livelihood. My livelihood is my brain, so I’m never going to prioritize my body like that.”

It also helps me to identify areas that I actually DO want to prioritize more. I realized in recent years that my envy for my friends who prioritized writing more than I did was NOT going away, so I started to prioritize writing more. (Not top three, but higher priority than it has been in the past.)

[00valentina-writes00]

dom Vi's NSFW alphabet

♡♥︎NSFW alphabet - Dom!Vi♥︎♡

A = Aftercare

Vi is rough in bed, but after? She’s got a soft streak a mile wide. She’ll pull you against her chest, murmuring low praise while tracing lazy circles on your back. Expect forehead kisses, a firm arm draped over you, and her voice rasping, “You good, babe?” before she pulls the blankets over both of you. If you’re sore, she’ll massage your muscles, and if she was particularly rough, she’ll make damn sure you feel taken care of.

B = Body Part

On herself? Her arms—she knows you love how strong they are, how they pin you down. On you? Your thighs. She loves how they tremble when she’s between them, how they squeeze around her head when she’s eating you out. Bonus points if you ride her and she can grip them hard enough to leave bruises.

C = Cum

Vi is messy. She loves watching you come undone, and she gets off on how wrecked you look. If she’s using her fingers, she’ll make sure they’re buried deep inside when you cum, stretching you open so she can feel every pulse. If she’s wearing her strap, she’ll grind it in as deep as possible, watching as you arch and whimper. If she’s feeling possessive? She’ll make you lick her fingers clean after.

D = Dirty Secret

She loves the idea of making you cum when you shouldn’t—hand between your thighs under the dinner table, whispering in your ear while you struggle to keep composure. The thought of you squirming, trying to hide it, makes her wild. She hasn’t done it yet, but she’s tempted.

E = Experience

Vi might not have started out knowing everything, but she learns fast. She’s confident, cocky, and knows exactly how to work you over. By now, she knows your body like the back of her hand—where to touch, when to slow down, when to push harder. She doesn’t fuck around.

F = Favorite Position

She loves bending you over something—her bed, a desk, even a wall—gripping your hips as she pounds into you. But she also loves when you’re on your back, legs hooked over her shoulders so she can get deep and watch every expression cross your face.

G = Goofy

Vi enjoys teasing you, but when she’s in dom mode, she’s focused. She might crack a cocky grin when she’s making you beg though

H = Hair

She keeps herself neatly trimmed but doesn’t stress about being perfectly shaved. She’s a fighter, not a beauty queen. Besides, she knows you’re not complaining when your face is between her thighs.

I = Intimacy

Vi thrives on intensity. She’ll fuck you rough, make you beg, but then slow down just enough to kiss you like she means it. She’s all about that push and pull—giving you exactly what you need, then withholding just enough to make you ache for her.

J = Jack Off

She does, but not often. If she’s got you, why would she need her own hand? That said, if she’s been away for too long, she’ll get off thinking about the way you sound when she’s inside you.

K = Kink

Power play – She loves being in control, making you submit under her.

Choking – Not to the point of hurting you, but her hand wrapped around your throat? Oh yeah.

Marking – Bites, bruises, anything that lingers after she’s done with you.

Overstimulation – She likes seeing you completely wrecked, body twitching, begging for a break.

L = Location

She prefers a bed—gives her more control—but if the mood strikes? Against the wall, in an alley, anywhere she can pin you down and take what she wants.

M = Motivation

Your attitude. If you act bratty, talk back, challenge her? You’re getting pinned down. Hard. She also loves hearing you beg—nothing gets her off faster than knowing you need her.

N = No

Vi’s a dom, but she won’t actually hurt you. No serious pain, no CNC, and definitely nothing that makes you uncomfortable. She wants you wrecked, not broken.

O = Oral

She loves giving. Watching you fall apart under her mouth, gripping her hair? That’s her favorite kind of reward. She’s skilled, patient, and will not stop until you’re gasping. Receiving? She enjoys it, but she’d rather focus on you.

P = Pace

Rough and deep. She’ll start slow, teasing you, but once she’s in the zone? She’s relentless. She lasts a long time, too—she’s got stamina for days.

Q = Quickie

She doesn’t mind them, especially if she’s frustrated and needs an outlet. You bent over a counter, her hand over your mouth so no one hears? Yeah, she’s into that.

R = Risk

Vi’s open to trying new things, but only if she knows you’re comfortable. She enjoys pushing limits, but she always checks in with you first.

S = Stamina

Vi can go all night if you let her. She’s a fighter—her endurance is no joke. Expect multiple rounds, especially if you’re feeling up for it.

T = Toys

Oh, she’s got a collection. She has different straps for different moods—some thick, some long, some with a curve that hits just right. She also enjoys teasing you with a vibrator, watching you squirm before she even touches you.

U = Unfair

Vi lives to tease. She’ll edge you, pull back right when you’re about to cum, make you beg. She loves the power of keeping you on the edge, just desperate enough to make you plead for her.

V = Volume

She’s vocal, but not obnoxiously loud. She groans, grits her teeth, maybe lets out a low curse when she’s close. But she wants to hear you—she thrives on your moans, your gasps, the sound of your body against hers.

W = Wild Card

Vi has a thing for eye contact. If you try to look away when she’s fucking you, she’ll grab your chin, make you watch her. Nothing gets her off faster than seeing your fucked-out expression while she’s deep inside you.

X = X-Ray

Vi has smaller breasts but toned, firm pecs. Her nipples are sensitive, but she doesn’t make a big deal about it. Down below? She’s got a well-defined, muscular core, a neatly trimmed patch of hair (yes it’s pink gang. Fight me.), and a smaller clit that twitches when she’s turned on.

Y = Yearning

Vi has a high sex drive. She won’t push if you’re not in the mood, but she’s always ready to go. One look from you, one teasing comment, and she’s pinning you to the nearest surface.

Z = Zzzz

Vi doesn’t fall asleep right away. She likes holding you, letting the adrenaline settle before she crashes. Once she’s out, though? She sleeps hard, arm thrown over you like a human-sized security blanket.

[ariahmichelle]

Fake It Till You Feel It- Part 3

Rafe Cameron x Reader Series

Series Masterlist Here

Summary: You see your ex with a new girl wrapped around him after he told you “wasn’t ready for a relationship” after you had slowly started to fall for him. The betrayal stings. Rafe Cameron is dealing with his own issue—Amelia, a girl who refuses to take the hint that he’s not interested. One night you impulsively pretend to be Rafe’s girlfriend to get her to back off. To your surprise, it works. You also notice Alex looking pissed. This starts to become an unspoken routine between you when either Alex or Amelia are around. Simple right? However, longer this goes on, the more the lines blur between what’s real and what’s not.

Part 3- The Rescue Mission

••••••••••••••••••••• ••••••••••••••••••••••

It had been a slow, uneventful day—exactly what you’d wanted. You had spent the morning running errands, picking up a few things from town before finally making it home. Now, curled up on the couch, half-watching a show while scrolling on your phone, you were perfectly content to do nothing for the rest of the afternoon.

Then your phone buzzed.

Rafe: You busy?

You frowned, already suspicious.

You: I might be. Why?

Rafe: Because I need saving.

You snorted, shaking your head.

You: Let me guess… Amelia?

Rafe: What do you think?

You sighed, debating for a moment. Maybe it would be good for him to deal with her himself for once. But you also knew how persistent Amelia could be.

You: Sounds like a you problem, Cameron.

Rafe: Come on. Be a team player.

You: …How bad is it?

Rafe: Bad enough to text you :(

Before you could dwell on it too much, your mom walked into the room, grabbing her purse. “I’m heading out for a bit. Need a ride anywhere?”

“Actually, yeah,” you said, already slipping on your shoes.

——

When you arrived at the country club, you expected to find Rafe surrounded by Topper, Kelce, and maybe a few other guys, with Amelia clinging to him like always.

But instead, he was standing outside, alone.

You narrowed your eyes as you approached. “If you made me come all this way for nothing, you’re dead.”

Rafe exhaled, shaking his head. “Trust me, I wouldn’t have called you unless I had no other option.”

“That bad?”

He ran a hand down his face. “Worse.”

You crossed your arms, waiting.

“I was having lunch with my family,” he started, “and Amelia just invited herself over, telling my dad, Rose, Sarah, and Wheezie that she and I have been getting to know each other.” He grimaced. “She’s acting like we’ve been seeing each other, and I told them we weren’t, but—”

“But Ward told you not to be rude and let her stay,” you finished, already knowing how this went.

Rafe pointed at you. “Exactly.”

You groaned. “So now what?”

“I told them I was going to the bathroom,” he said. “And now I need you to help me get rid of her. And make sure my family knows I’m not with her.”

You hesitated. “Rafe, I’m not pretending to be your girlfriend in front of your dad.”

“Come on,” he said, and for the first time, you noticed how desperate he looked. “My dad likes you, okay? If you say we’re together, he’ll believe it, and Amelia will finally back off.”

You still weren’t convinced. “And what happens when he finds out it’s a lie?”

Rafe just shrugged. “That’s a future problem.”

You exhaled, glancing toward the entrance. “I swear to God, Cameron…”

Rafe smirked, sensing your hesitation cracking. “So you’ll do it?”

You groaned. “I hate you.”

His smirk widened. “No, you don’t.”

Rolling your eyes, you held out your hand. “Let’s get this over with.”

Without hesitation, Rafe took your hand, threading his fingers through yours like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And just like that, you walked into the lion’s den.

——

The Cameron family sat at a round table on the patio, the perfect picture of wealth and power. Ward sat at the head, Rose beside him, while Sarah and Wheezie chatted quietly. And, of course, Amelia stood close to Rafe’s empty chair, her hand way too close to where his arm would’ve been.

The moment you walked in, Sarah’s eyes widened.

“Are you kidding me?” she blurted.

Amelia turned—and her expression darkened instantly.

Ward raised an eyebrow. “Rafe?”

Rafe barely hesitated. “I wasn’t being rude earlier,” he said, looking directly at his father. “I was just trying to make it clear—I’m not with Amelia. Because I’m with someone else.”

He gave your hand a squeeze, and you took that as your cue. “Hey, Mr. Cameron,” you said with an easy smile, leaning slightly into Rafe’s side. “Hope you don’t mind me crashing family lunch.”

Ward looked between you and Rafe, brow furrowed. “You two are together?”

“Yep,” Rafe said smoothly. “Have been for a little while now.”

Sarah still looked shocked, and Wheezie looked downright delighted, but the best reaction came from Amelia, whose face was rapidly turning red.

“You have to be joking,” she snapped.

“Why?” Rafe tilted his head, feigning confusion. “Jealous?”

Amelia scoffed. “Please. I just didn’t realize you’d lowered your standards so much.”

Your smile tightened. “You know, for someone who’s so sure I’m not a threat, you seem really upset about this.”

Her mouth opened. Then closed. Then, without another word, she turned on her heel and stormed off.

Wheezie barely contained her laughter.

Rose just sipped her wine, watching you both closely. “Well,” she said, “this is… interesting.”

Ward nodded slowly, clearly still processing. “Hmm.”

Before they could say anything else, Rafe let out a dramatic sigh. “Well, this has been fun, but we’ve got plans.”

“We do?” you muttered.

Rafe ignored you. “See you guys later.”

And with that, he pulled you away from the table, out of the club, and toward his truck.

As soon as you were outside, you smacked his arm. “You are so dead for that.”

Rafe just grinned, opening the truck door for you. “Relax. It worked, didn’t it?”

“You owe me.”

He just smirked. “That’s why I’m making it up to you right now.”

You eyed him suspiciously as you climbed into the truck. “How?”

“You’ll see.”

Fifteen minutes later, you found yourself sitting in the bed of his truck, legs crossed beneath you, a cup of ice cream in hand, on a hill overlooking the beach. Almost a little secret hideout you’ve never been to before.

“You know,” you said, glancing at him, “this is a pretty good spot. Romantic, even.”

Rafe scoffed. “If I was trying to be romantic, you’d know.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Oh? And what does romantic Rafe Cameron look like?”

He smirked, leaning in slightly. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile didn’t fade.

You took a slow bite of your ice cream, then glanced at Rafe. “So… this isn’t where you bring all your girls?”

Rafe scoffed. “Please. You think I waste gas on just anyone?”

You hummed. “Mm. Seems like a solid move, though, so I must be very special.”

Rafe just smirks not giving you the satisfaction of an answer.

After a few moments of silence, he leaned back, voice softer. “You know… I never thought Alex was good enough for you.”

You looked at him, surprised. “What?”

“I’m just saying,” he shrugged, “you always deserved better than that asshole.”

You shook your head. “Well… thanks, I guess.”

Rafe smirked. “Don’t get used to it.”

You laughed, licking your spoon. “No promises.”

—————————————

Let me know what you think? Could be some drama in the coming parts???

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