#and even though I came out long before working there and talk about stuff in the lgbtq+ community a lot

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Commission info!

I'm just going to give you a few pointers, I love your work. I entirely believe whatever you write I will love but can we please include these loosely. Go mad, change it about but something along these lines...

They have always looked out for each other from day one, she always checked in on him and made sure that he was okay and he did the same for her, they always had each other's back ever since the quarry. I don’t want it to be Daryl not being able to tell her that she loves him and the same for her for him if that makes sense. They both know that they love each other dearly and are fully aware of this but neither one of them likes the intimate stuff, the sex, the making out etc. They’ve shared sleeping arrangements before, cuddled, held hands a couple of times but they have never approached the subject as they were both scared about the thought of it or didn't feel the need to. But since arriving at Alexandria there’s been people flirting with one or the other, or making comments, or odd looks etc and it has been getting under their grill and realised that it really bothered them that they never actually made anything official either marriage or whatever but they can’t communicate about it because they’re both as awkward and as broken as each other and have this self belief that everything they touch just ends up in destruction. They end up on angsty terms and shut off from each other then something happens to either the OC or Daryl to the point of either almost losing them, something sparks between them and they decide that actually they do need to make it ‘official’ and shout it to the world. 

I hope that helps but either way let your creativeness flow my dear, do whatever you would like with it.

I know I’m going to love it <3

Fluffy-Dixon Commission

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Typical TWD violence & gore; allusions to smut

You loved Daryl. Daryl loved you. A sentiment that was never spoken but communicated nonetheless. You didn’t need words with him. It was almost as if you never did. The ability to read one another without speaking came naturally from even as far back as the quarry. Those days didn’t really seem like that long ago anymore, time bending and bleeding together as you struggled to just survive. 

The quarry, the Greene farm, the prison—a natural progression of something unnamed. It didn’t need a title. The two of you just fit. Stolen glances, smiles, and even holding hands while on watch. It just felt right. Given that the touches and gestures were reciprocated every single time without the slightest protest told you that it felt the same to Daryl. 

Eventually, you started sleeping in the same cell. There was nothing beyond holding one another, coaxing the stress from your bodies with simple touches that no amount of sex could ever achieve. No one questioned it, though no one really questioned any form of happiness anymore. It was too fleeting. 

“Today sucked.” You would whisper, nuzzling your cheek against the hollow of his throat. 

“S’over now.” He’d reply, fingertips dancing down your spine. 

It was an unplanned, nameless perfection. 

Carol had jokingly referred to you as an old married couple once, and while you didn’t get angry, it did raise several questions. You began to ponder things that had, until that moment, felt ordinary. You had never compared your relationship with Daryl to that of Glenn and Maggie or Rick and Lori. 

Such an innocent statement had been the birthplace of so many doubts. Should it be something that was made official? Should you talk to him about it? And then the prison fell, your combined grief straining whatever it was the two of you had. Though once you had been reunited with your family, things seemed to return to normal. 

Except the lingering thought that you should be doing more. 

“Don’t know how I feel ‘bout this place.” Daryl was perched on the chair just adjacent to the door of the house you, he, and Carol had been assigned, his legs outstretched for his crossed ankles to rest atop the railing. Whittling away at bolts, he didn’t bother to look up when a long time resident called out a hello. 

“It’s not so bad.” You smiled at your notebook and the run list you were creating. The archer grunted. He didn’t trust it. “It’s hard to get used to, I know, but Rick says—”

“Hey, Y/N.” 

Your gaze slid over to the steps, the one you had come to know as Spencer smiling at you from the walkway. “Oh, uh—hey.” The man had been watching you from the moment your group had arrived, his hungry gaze following you with a piercing intensity that made you a little more than uncomfortable. 

“So, the party is tonight.” He lifted a foot to the first step and you saw Daryl’s knife hand still from the corner of your eye. “I was hoping you would accompany me.” Your eyes blinked wide, dancing between the two men. 

“I—well I wasn’t planning on going.” You laid the pen and paper aside, placing your hands on your thighs. 

“Oh, come on, pretty lady. It’ll be fun.” 

Your eyes flitted over to watch Daryl’s hand tighten around the hilt of his knife. Was he just being protective? Was it something more? The questions you tried so valiantly to ignore rose again to the forefront of your mind. 

“M’a go talk to Rick.” The archer spouted suddenly, dropping his legs and standing. He was down the steps and on the walkway before you could manage to say a word. 

Spencer watched him leave, a visible tension draining from his form. Once Daryl was out of sight, Deanna’s son turned back to you with a smile that made your stomach turn. “So, about that party?”

You glanced over his shoulder to Rick’s front door. What would it hurt? Daryl wasn’t attending and making friends couldn’t be such a bad thing. If Spencer wanted more, you would simply set him straight. 

“Yeah, I guess so, but as friends, okay?”

The look he gave you filled you with instant regret. 

“Friends. Sure.” 

Oh boy. 

The gathering itself was a success, introducing you to some of the community’s residents while you gained a bit more knowledge about the history of Alexandria. It was Spencer’s relentless advances that had ultimately driven you to abandon the party early. You had acquiesced to one dance, yet that had been enough to send the wrong signals. 

“Daryl? Are you home?” You called, awkwardly removing the high heels from your aching feet. Of course they would give you the most uncomfortable shoes known to man. You’d definitely be sticking with your boots from that point forward, fancy dress or not. “Daryl?” Tired and more than socially drained, you wanted nothing more than to curl up in bed with your archer and let your stress melt away into the mattress while secure in the safety of his arms. 

It wasn’t meant to be. 

Daryl wasn’t there. It was unlikely he had left the walls. Unlikely but not impossible. So, you shuffled off to change out of the outfit you’d be given and into your familiar attire. By the time he strolled into the house, you had fallen asleep on the couch. 

“Hey.” You croaked, wiping the sleep from your eyes. Daryl glanced your way and offered a jerk of his chin in greeting. “Where’d you go?”

“S’it matter?” He huffed. It almost sounded bitter. 

“I guess not.” You warily watched him move around, the air growing thick with tension. “Just worried, that’s all.” He laughed ruefully, a sure sign that he was ill at ease. “Daryl, are you okay?”

“Dropped by the party earlier.” He cleared his throat. “Didn’t see no reason to stick around.”

Uh oh. 

“Oh.” Why did you feel guilty? Nothing had happened. “You hungry?” You asked, realizing the ridiculousness of the question when there were other obvious pressing matters that needed to be discussed. 

Daryl stopped stripping off his gear to spare you a sidelong glance. “Nah.” That wasn’t what he wanted to say, that much was clear, but he refrained. You felt your heart shift and twist uncomfortably. 

“Daryl, I think we should—”

“M’goin’ to bed.” And then he was gone, loud steps echoing from the basement stairs until they were muted thuds that were followed up by the loud slam of his door. You weren’t welcome in the room that night. 

Wiping angrily at the sudden tears on your cheeks, you cast your gaze to the stairs leading up to the bedrooms, suddenly exhausted. In fact, the thought of trudging up to the extra bed was a feat you weren’t sure you could accomplish. Lowering onto the couch, you sniffled and closed your damp eyes. 

Sleep wouldn’t find you that night. 

“We should—” The words were cut off by a mighty yawn, drawing Daryl’s unwelcome attention. His expression alone spoke volumes. 

“S’the matter with you?”

As if he had to ask. He knew you better than anyone, like the back of his hand. You hadn’t rested, fitfully tossing and turning on the couch the previous night, missing the warmth of his arms and the sounds of his breathing. 

Knowing you couldn’t start a discussion that might lead to foolish mistakes, you heaved a sigh. “I’m fine.” Keeping your eyes downcast, you pushed open the passenger door and climbed out, heading toward the main entrance of the mall. A succession of slamming car doors followed. 

“Y’ain’t fine.” Daryl fell into step with you, pulling his crossbow from his back. His eyes, squinting against the sun, remained glued forward. 

Neither are you, you wanted to say. Still, you pressed onward. “Let’s just get this done and go home.” You chose instead, picking up the pace to leave him behind. Arguing with him wasn’t new by any means, but this—tension, it was new. It was different. It felt much like the stress that passed between the two of you after the prison. The questions, the doubts. 

“Y/N!”

You shook your head when you heard him call. You couldn’t deal with that confrontation at that moment. There were supplies to find, there were walkers to avoid and—

You didn’t even realize how close the teeth had come to your shoulder until you felt the sting of Daryl’s bolt slide across the back of your neck to pierce the young woman’s skull. Hand slapping over the cut the projectile had left behind, you spun to watch the body topple sideways, your eyes wide. 

“The hell were you doin’?!” 

Your brain had yet to catch up, your lips moving with mere silence the only result. When Daryl reached you, his weapon clattered to the ground, leaving the others to watch your backs.

“I—”

“Ya just stood there! Why didn’t—goddamnit, Y/N!” 

Your hand jerked away from your neck as you were yanked against his chest, face squished until you managed to maneuver your head just enough to breathe. 

“I’m sorry—I—”

Daryl sniffed above you, roughly letting you go and stepping away. He had turned away from everyone, arm moving to appear as if he might have been wiping at his eyes. “S’get this done.” He snapped, jerking his arm in a vague motion to beckon you. “You’re stayin’ with me, y’hear?” 

You nodded, though he couldn’t see, and picked up his bow for him. After he had taken it, he stomped toward the entrance, barking at you to keep up. 

How could you have been so careless? You’d allowed your thoughts and worries to cloud your judgment, blind you to danger. If Daryl hadn’t been there, you’d have been dead. Now things were worse between the two of you. He stalked ahead, his shoulders tense and frame trembling. Did you dare try and smooth things over?

“Got somethin’ here.” He suddenly spouted, rocking back and forth with the toe of his boot pressing into a creaking floorboard. He glanced at you, eyes narrowed in a silent request to watch his back. You jerked your chin in a nod. Crossbow placed next to him on the floor, he crouched and used his knife to pry up the board and reveal a bag beneath it. “Bingo.”

“What’s in it?” You inquired, looking to him for a reply and then back to the door. 

“Meds. Some granola bars and Spam.” He shoved the sack into his satchel. 

“Trip was worth it then.” You were smiling when you turned to him, your mouth turning down when you were assaulted by the expression he donned. He was stricken. 

“Worth it.” He looked down as he stood, licking his bottom lip before chewing it in earnest. “Nah, Y/N. It weren’t worth it.” Squinting, he shook his head and brushed by you. “We’re done here.”

Sighing heavily, you rubbed the towel over your damp hair. The day’s grime had been washed away, swirling down the drain to keep your tears company. Daryl hadn’t spoken a word to you the rest of the run, not on the drive back, and he had disappeared the moment the car had been parked. 

Pulling your sleep shorts up to rest on your hips, you reached for your camisole when there was a soft knock on your door. You were once again in the upstairs room, giving Daryl his space while suffocating in your own. 

“Yeah?” You pulled the garment over your head and stepped out of the bathroom, narrowing your eyes at the entryway. 

“S’uh—” Daryl cleared his throat, the sound muted by the wooden barrier between you. “S’me.”

Your heart fluttered before it sank. Another argument wasn’t something you were confident you could handle, but you couldn’t just turn him away. Padding across the cold floor on your bare feet, you turned the knob and opened the door enough to lean against it. “Hey.”

“Hey.” He was already rubbing the back of his neck and shifting from foot to booted foot. He was anxious. “Can we, uh—can we talk?” He requested without so much as a glance at you.

Not tonight. I’m too tired. “Of course.” You ignored every possible excuse to avoid the conversation. He merely grunted and squeezed by you with care not to touch. 

And that hurt. 

“What’s up?” You asked with feigned nonchalance, sitting down on your bed. Daryl paid extra attention to the furniture and the things you had taken with you from the basement room. 

“‘Bout today—”

And there it was. “I said I was sorry, Daryl. I was distracted.” You felt your eyes burn, wishing you could say so much more. Tell him you missed him, that you loved him. “It won’t happen again.”

“Yeah, I know.” His tone was solemn and it dawned on you that he didn’t seem angry at all. He turned toward you, taking a moment to chew on the side of his thumb. You hated when he did that. You hated anything that caused him discomfort, especially the things he did to himself. “S’my fault, ain’t it?”

You blinked, saucer-sized eyes following his hand as he lowered it. “Your fault?” 

“Just—” You tracked him as he began to pace. “Just saw ya with that prick at the party an’ I—” He stopped, fists clenching before he shook them out and continued wearing a trench into the floor. “I thought—weren’t we—nah. I shouldn’a come up here.” 

The confusion muddling your brain had yet to wear off before you were on your feet and stepping into his path to effectively block the door. “Slow down, Daryl.” His mouth opened but snapped shut with a click of his teeth. “Say what you mean.” You pleaded in the calmest tone you could manage while numerous sentiments twisted in the pit of your stomach, tendriling out to wrap around your heart like a vice. 

“Dunno what I mean.” The defeat on his face, the utter bemusement in his eyes tore you to pieces. It also refueled every burning question that had befuddled your mind into nearly getting yourself killed. 

“Daryl.” For some reason beyond your comprehension, you hesitated with your open palms just in front of his chest. C’mon, idiot. This is Daryl and he— Your train of thought nearly derailed, maintaining just enough contact with the foundation to urge you onward. “Daryl, if I said that I loved you, what would you say?” Your hands finally made contact.

He reeled back a fraction of an inch, his wide eyes mimicking yours from only moments ago. “I, uh—”

“I’ve always thought that you loved me.” You dared, your hands sliding over to settle on his ribs. “I know we’ve never really—decided that we were—”

“Sure, we did.” He cleared his throat, hand traveling toward his mouth as he inhaled. You caught his wrist before he could begin to gnaw on already abused skin. “Mean, I thought we—”

You smiled and released your grasp, content to allow his hand to rest on your waist instead. “I love you.” And you held your breath. Blue orbs danced and sparkled, scrutinizing you and your declaration. 

“Y’sure?”

You didn’t hesitate. “Very.” 

Your first kiss was everything you had expected and all you could have hoped for: sloppy, inexperienced, yet so passionate and honest. Daryl’s teeth clicked into yours, uncomfortable but still inspiring a giggle that had him smiling against your mouth. A real smile. A unicorn in a world that had lost its magic. 

And it stole your breath, precious oxygen that you weren’t sure you found again until you settled on the bed beside him, sweat-soaked, sated, and more in love than you ever thought was possible. 

He never said the words but you had all the answer you needed. 

You were his. 

He was yours. 

And even if he turned beet red each and every time, you’d shout it from the rooftops. 

[icewindandboringhorror]

It's always interesting to hear about people's weird/unexpected "alternate life paths". Like, something that you could have done with your life, a job you almost took, a school you almost went to, etc - that was still actually realistic enough that it could have happened, but NOW it seems to not suit your current personality.

Like for example, I currently hate advertising (how manipulative it is, brands trying to be 'relatable', social media amplifying it to an obnoxious extreme, etc.) so much that even seeing a little ad before a youtube video is grating to even witness, but there was a point in time where I was genuinely seriously considering going into marketing/making commercials as a career lol. Or like, I have a relative who was very inclined to be a pastor when they were younger, even though today they're a super strong atheist, etc. etc.

[seagull-scribbles]

I don’t want wholesome non binary characters, give them a bomb

Me and my friend are having a debate

[deus-ex-mona]

starting the year ✨wrong✨

[carenrose]

I put a story in the tags but wanted to add this afterwards. It's kind of a summary/breakdown.

19: "Dated" (mostly made out with) a coworker for a couple of weeks, realized I felt nothing special about it. (Story in tags).

20: Realized I definitely did not feel the same way as most people did about the idea of sex. Realized people *weren't* exaggerating when they talked about it.

20-22: At some point in here I learned about asexuality and realized I was ace.

22, maybe 23: A coworker (different job) and I told each other we were ace. She expressed frustration at the difficulty finding someone to date that wasn't put off by it, then asked me if I felt the same way. I suddenly realized I hadn't tried to be in or even actively sought out a relationship since I had a crush on a kid when I was 15. I realized all my thoughts about being ace and being in a relationship were only ever hypothetical relationships and I couldn't actually picture my real life actual self wanting romance. I responded with a half-thought "oh, I guess I just don't really care" but it was on my mind for months.

24: Got myself my first ace ring!

I don't know exactly when I started really learning about aromanticism. It was probably when I was about 25-27? (I think that's what I said in the tags too).

I went through the many stages, like

"I can't be aro, I've had crushes on people"

"I don't know if the things I called 'crushes' were even romantic attraction"

"what IS romantic attraction anyway?"

"I don't think I'm actually aro, I can easily picture myself in a romantic relationship"

"I cannot picture my actual self in a romantic relationship, the 'me' I picture is a fictional construct"

"I think I might have a crush on my friend, that's unexpected"

"oh never mind they did one minor thing that changed my view of them slightly and I've lost interest"

"ok I'm definitely grey-aro, that's what fits best, I'm definitely not 'full' aromantic"

"did I ever actually have a crush (romantic attraction) to anyone or did I just want interesting/pretty people to notice me?"

And eventually "I don't know if what I experience occasionally is romantic attraction or not, I think 'grey-aro' is probably the closest descriptor, but I really identify most with the general 'aromantic' and 'aroace' labels, so that's what I'm going with."

*note: i know not all aro people are ace and vice versa, but the experiences tend to be similar so ive lumped em together (and im aroace)

pls throw your awkward ace experiences in the tags i love them

[luveline]

𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐈 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 | 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

Spencer calls you drunk and in need of rescue. You confess a few secrets to him while he won’t remember them (or so you think). 3k, fem

cw drunk!spencer, mentioned past drug use, confident/bombshell!reader, flirting, spencer getting some well deserved comfort, a handful of his drunken compliments, insecurity, intense mutual pining

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

You’re blissfully sleeping in the arms of a REM cycle when your phone rings. It pulls you by the chest, a punch of shock and expectancy at once. It’ll be someone calling you into work, Hotch himself if you’re lucky. 

You search blindly for your phone. If you’re even luckier, it’ll be a wrong number. Your fingers curl around the little body of your phone and you bring it to your ear without checking the number, frazzled. “Hello?” you ask hoarsely. 

Total quiet. 

“Hello?” You pull the screen away. The caller reads: SPENCER. You pull it back rather than hang up. “Hey, Spencer. Are you there?” 

“Hello.” He laughs. “Hello, are you there?” 

“I’m here, Spencer, where are you?” 

“That’s an interesting question, actually, and I’m sure there’s a great answer, but…” 

“But what?” You sit up quickly, your throat aching with sleep. Your room is black as coal pitch. “Spencer, what time is it, my love?” 

“You shouldn’t call me stuff like that.” 

“Stop being weird and tell me where you are.” 

He laughs like a hyena. You can see it in your mind, his smile and all his pearly perfect teeth. You love it when he smiles like that and he rarely ever does. “I’m somewhere and I need your help getting home!” he says with another funny laugh. 

“Are you alright? You sound…” He sounds inebriated. 

Spencer struggled with his drug problem for so long before you found out. You just hadn’t been around enough, and when you were he’d gotten good at hiding it. You can still remember how furious you’d been with everyone, including him, because you could’ve helped, would’ve done anything to support him through it. If he’s hurting now and hasn’t told you, you love him, but you’ll be insanely angry. 

“Spencer?” you ask quietly. 

“I went for drinks with a girl but she didn’t like me and I may have drowned my sorrows too much,” he admits. “Um. Did you know gin is very strong?” 

“Aw, baby. You’re cheating on me?” 

“I’m afraid so,” he says, and hiccups. 

“Where are you?” 

After some hassle wherein you persuade Spencer to give the phone to someone else in the bar for a slightly less drunk interrogation, you dress and gather your bearings for the drive. You zip a hoodie up over your pyjamas, stuff your feet into some old converse, and set out into the dark to find him. 

He calls you again as you’re parking. “Hello,” he says as soon as you answered. “I need you to come and get me.” 

Spencer called you twice to save him. Even if he doesn’t remember, he’s called you to come and get him when he knows he needs help, and that realisation is hard to ignore. “Spencer, I’m two minutes away, I’m parking. You’re still where you were?” 

“Where was I?” 

“At the bar, sweetheart. Are you still there?” It’s scarily dark out and you didn’t grab any sort of defensive measure before you came, which you regret now, climbing out of your car to walk the dimly lit road. The bar glows like a beacon to be followed. 

“Still where?” 

“Did you hit your head?” 

“Not to my knowledge. Though I’m not sure I have much right now. I feel like I’m forgetting everything I’ve ever read, and I’ve read a lot. You know I can read about eighty average length novels in one hour on an e-reader? The buttons make it faster.” 

“You haven’t told me that before.” You shiver against the nighttime winds, footsteps heavy on the grey sidewalk. 

“I’m trying to be more conversational. Emily says it’s not working.” 

“You’re conversational. Isn’t the only condition of being conversational to prompt a conversation? We’re always talking.” 

“…What?” 

You laugh like crazy. “Spencer, you don’t need to change the way you talk.” 

“I annoy people.” 

“You don’t annoy me.” 

You approach the door of the bar, a ramshackle sheet of plywood over what looks to be a glass door. The bar building seems in similar dessaray, with modern features wrecked by scratches and smashed panes. It’s a real dive. Spencer couldn’t have meant to come here. 

You war with both hands to open the door and find yourself faced with a long and empty corridor leading to another door. Worried you’re going to get kidnapped, you bring the phone back to your ear, Spencer’s chatting an immediate greeting. “…telling me I’m doing something wrong without telling me what it is, it’s impossible.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, can you come to the door?” 

“I don’t think I have control of my legs,” he says without inflection. 

“It’s definitely the building with the smashed door?” 

“Yesssss. Are you here?” he asks excitedly. 

“I better not get murdered, Spencer Reid.” 

“Am I in trouble?” 

“How are you even keeping the phone to your ear right now?” 

“I’m on speaker phone. Milly showed me how to do it. Say hi, Milly.” 

“Hi Milly,” a new voice says. 

You rub your eyes with one hand and square your shoulders, prepared to defend yourself if the creepy door leads to a creepier room. 

Spencer is immediately visible from the get go. You open the door on to a rather cosy looking bar, which you’re thinking might be the whole point; wretched exterior, secret attraction. Warm orange light ebbs into the space from sconces and a faux fireplace, while a wrestling match playing from the small TV behind the bar casts brighter light down onto Spencer’s shoulders. He looks out of place, dressed in a white oxford shirt and a suit jacket, his tie loosened and hanging from either side of his neck, compared to the lingering patrons who sit dotted around the room in booths and on barstools. One such patron sits in a plaid shirt and a trucker hat, her hair to her back, thick and dark. 

You hang up the call and put your phone in your pocket. Spencer gasps like he’s been smacked and picks his own phone up from the bar, clicking at buttons with clumsy fingers. “No,” he hums sadly. 

“Spencer,” you say, not wanting to disturb the people spending their sorry-looking night here. “Spencer. Hey, Spence!” 

His phone tips between his fingers. The woman you assume to be Milly catches it and offers it back without looking too far from her beer. 

“Hey,” you say gently, crossing a wide empty space to meet him. The room itself is shaped like a horseshoe, the bar taking up a surprising amount in the centre, and booths and tables placed around it. Spencer’s off of his barstool as you approach, eyes like puppy dog’s, arms extended. “You okay?” you ask. 

You can feel eyes on you both from every angle, but it doesn’t matter, not when Spencer’s falling into your arms (or on to them —he’s surprisingly tall when you aren’t wearing heels). “You alright?” you ask again. 

“You don’t have to be worried, I’m fine.” 

He’s less coordinated in real life than he’d sounded over the phone, his slurring unmissable, his hands like jumping fish as he tries to hug you. It’s weird and straining to take his weight but you do it without complaint. He smells the same, at least, only his cedary cologne is sharpened by the tang of gin on his breath. 

“Thank god you’re here,” he whispers. 

“Why?” you ask, pulling away to check for danger. 

“I missed you.” 

“I missed you too, handsome,” you say, genuine but laying it on thick simultaneously as you ease his head back to cup his cheek. You can’t help yourself. He’s the prettiest man you’ve ever met, and it gets worse every year. 

He frowns at you deeply. “I don’t like first dates.” 

“Then don’t go on them,” you suggest, “you don’t need to until you’re ready.” 

“I’m ready for love,” he says. You pull your lips into a flattened line, unsure of what to say, how to explain that it’s waiting for him, but his chin dips towards his neck and his eyes lock onto your face. “You’re not wearing makeup. God, you’re so pretty.” 

You flinch away from him. “Fuck, Spencer.”

“I’m sorry! It’s not that you don’t look pretty with makeup, but I never see you without it!” 

You’d forgotten you weren’t wearing any. Makeup isn’t a shield, exactly, but you like putting your best foot forward, so to speak. You’ve no clue what you look like tonight, hadn’t managed to look in the mirror, you’d been focused on getting to Spencer before he got lost. You can imagine the puffiness.

Spencer touches your cheek. You let him turn you mostly because he’s surprised you, his eyes roving up and down your face with a fawning curiosity. 

“You’re beautiful. You know that already, but people don’t tell you enough,” he says, his hand falling from your cheek. 

“Spencer,” you say softly, “let’s get you home.” 

You thank Milly for her help and grab Spencer’s bag from the floor to hang on your shoulder. You’d make a joke about how heavy it was if you didn’t think he’d take it from you, and, considering how drunk he is, topple over from the imbalance it provides. His shirt is clammy where you push your hand through his arm to link them, his footsteps wobbly. 

“I didn’t want to go on a date,” he says. 

“Then why did you go?” you ask, helping him over the door jam into the long hallway. 

“I don’t want to be alone forever.” 

“Spencer, you won’t be.” It doesn’t feel like the best time to bring up how much you like him. You’re sure he thinks you’re kidding, doesn’t everybody? Don’t torture him, they say. Don’t toy with him. Every time you flirt with him the team acts like you can’t mean it, and for a while it worked for you; you weren’t in love with Spencer. You weren’t playing with his feelings, but you didn’t love him, and then you joined the team and got to know him, watched him fluster at every comment you made or under any soft looking and realised you could love him. It was easy to fall for him. You liked doing it. But now he’s determined to write your affection off as a joke and going on dates? 

In the morning, when he’s sober, you’ll have to tell him how you feel. Or you could let him find someone more like him… ugh. It’s such a mess. 

You grapple with the size of your feelings for him as he hums and laughs his way down the hall to the glass door. On the street, he squints and straightens his back, fighting to regain his arm from your hold to cover your shoulder instead. “It’s cold,” he says in surprise. “You okay?” 

“I’m fine, I got my jacket. It’s a short walk, come on.”

His arm stops acting as protection and starts to use you for support. “I didn’t mean to drink so much.” 

“Drowning your sorrows is always a terrible idea because it tends to work,” you lament, less scared of the dark with him at your hip, though what protection he might offer is negated by the alcohol. 

“She kind of looked like you.” 

You squeeze your eyes together quickly. “Oh.” 

“I didn’t know she was going to. But she didn’t– she didn’t– it’s hard to talk. She didn’t listen like you do,” he says, lightly slurring, “she just stared at me like everyone used to in high school. Like she could tell there’s something wrong with me.” 

“Spencer, there’s nothing wrong with you.”

“I know,” he says. 

“Do you?” 

“Yes.” He frowns. “No, I don’t know. I don’t feel like there’s something wrong with me,” —his voice turns to a nearly indistinguishable mumble— “but everyone else always does.” 

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you.” 

“Is that why you make all your jokes?” 

“What jokes, babe?” 

“Like that! Like babe. It’s funny ‘cos you’d never date me.” 

You’d slow if he weren’t already walking at a snail's pace. “That’s not true. Let’s talk about it in the morning, okay?” 

“I won’t remember to ask you in the morning.” 

“Spencer, you remember everything.” 

He drags his feet. “I wish I wasn’t so weird,” he whines. It’s playful at the forefront but desperate otherwise, and it gives you pause. “I wish I was normal, and you could like me normal.” 

You look down at your hands, panicking, a flash of Is this a good idea? like an alarm in your head as you turn on the sidewalk to face him. He’s looking at you like he’s begging you to disagree with him. 

You’re happy to. 

“Spencer, I like you like this,” you insist loudly. His eyes and all his sweet lashes track the movement of your hand as you touch your chest, and your neck. “You’re not normal, I’m not normal. Do you know how many times I’ve been rejected? Just for being me? I’m too bossy, too outspoken, too– too high maintenance. I've had friends with good intentions tell me I need to lower my standards, need to relax, because otherwise I’m going to end up alone for the rest of my life. I feel alone all the time.”

“But you’re perfect,” he says, puzzled. 

“To you. And you’re perfect to me.” Your hand crawls to the base of your throat. “So don’t say you’re weird like it’s ugly, honey. And don’t think I don’t like you, ‘cos I do. You think I’d come and get anybody else in the middle of the night dressed like this?” you ask him, gesturing to your ratty pyjamas and your dingy converse. 

“You look so cute,” he says mournfully. 

You roll your eyes. He’s too wasted for this conversation. “Come on, sweetheart. You can think about this too much in the morning. Let’s just get home in one piece.” Physically and emotionally. 

“Can I come home with you?” he asks. 

That had always been the plan. “Ask me nicely and I’ll consider it on the way.” 

— — 

Spencer shuts his eyes, hands itching to clap over his ears as you scratch the head of a spatula across your frying pan. “Is three eggs too many? People usually have two but that’s never enough for me.” 

“I think…” Oh my god the metal screeching is so loud. “You should have as many as you want. You know your body. There’s this study on intuitive eating…” I'm too hungover for this. “Three eggs is better than two.” 

“So you want three?” 

He cannot eat right now. “Yes. Please.” 

Spencer’s half sick with dehydration and half grief. He stayed at your house last night and he was too drunk to be nosy. He slept in your bed. He slept in your bed. He woke up to you at your vanity doing your hair, the nutty smell of hair oil mixed with the heat of the hair tool on high and realised with a start that he’d missed something he thought about all the time. 

You’d tipped your head back to smile at him. “There’s my boy. Sweet dreams?” 

He didn’t dream, but if he had, it would’ve been another agonising wish where you were his girlfriend, or his wife, or just there looking at him with love. He wakes up feeling sick because it isn’t true. And now you’re making him breakfast, humming a tune under your breath, sourdough sizzling under the grill and a shoddily blended avocado sitting in the bowl in front of him. 

You asked him for one thing. He picks up the fork and starts to mash the avocado again. He can’t fight the foreignness of sitting in your kitchen, a gap in his memory. 

He knows he told you about his date, how she looked like you, how she didn’t seem to like him much, but he’s struggling to collect the finer details. Why had you picked him up? He must’ve called you, but you could’ve said no. He remembers thinking you looked beautiful, but he always thinks that. 

The avocado is making him feel sick. 

“Here,” you say, sliding a plate of toast in front of him. “Do you want butter?” 

“I think I'm gonna throw up.” 

“You’re okay.”

“I can’t believe how I acted,” he says, pressing his palms to the hollows of his eyes. 

You turn off the hob. Fat bubbles and pops until it’s cooled. The clock on the wall by the refrigerator ticks incessantly. His slept-in shirt feels too tight despite the undone button. 

“Hey…” You round the island but don’t touch him, your voice gentle. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” 

He drags his hands down his face. “I can barely remember what I said.” 

“You were really nice to me… told me I looked pretty without my makeup, n’ that I was perfect. You were really nice.” 

Your tone is off. No flirtatiousness, no endless confidence, you sound wistful, like you’re glad he said it. You take the bowl of avocado he’s made a mess with and put it aside with the toast, resting your arm on the counter, and leaning into his space. “Spencer, last night? You didn’t do anything to be embarrassed of. You were nice, and kind. You tried to open the car door for me and you almost lost your eye, but you were fine. You don’t have anything to be worried about, really.”

“But it’s you.” 

“Gonna touch your hair,” you say, giving him enough time to move away as you reach out and rake back his fringe. His heart leaps into his mouth. “You said something last night like that, you know? Do you remember that? You said if you were normal.” You grace the skin beside his eye with the tip of your thumb, your perfume floating his way as you move. “And I said–”

“I’m not normal,” he says, remembering now. 

You’re not normal, I’m not normal, you’d said.

But you’re perfect, he’d said. 

To you. And you’re perfect to me.

“Right. We’re not normal, Spencer Reid, so forget that girl. She didn’t deserve you anyways,” you say. 

You draw a short, silken line down his cheek with the side of your pinky. To be touched so lightly has his stomach in knots —he’s not shocked by the swiftness with which your affection can make a bad situation good again. 

You turn away. “Now we should eat before everything goes cold.” 

He watches your shoulders move, and he remembers one last detail. So don’t say you’re weird like it’s ugly, honey. And don’t think I don’t like you, ‘cos I do. 

The way you’d said it… you couldn’t really mean…

“How’s your appetite? Still feeling sick?” you ask. 

Spencer smiles to himself, the ghost of your touch glowing warm on his cheek. “I’m feeling a lot better, actually.” 

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thank you for reading!!! please like/reblog or comment if you enjoyed, i appreciate anything and it always inspires me to write more<3!! my requests are pretty much always open for bombshell!reader (even though this one strays a bit from their usual story haha) so if you wanna see more let me know❤️

[simpforboys]

surprise! (2)

drew starkey x fem!singer!reader

summary: reader and drew shoot the ‘perfume’ music video!

warnings: fluff, swearing, sexual themes but no real smut, kisses

‘perfume’ by del water gap

part one , part three, part four

It was bright and early on a Wednesday in December.

You had been up since six am to be on set, get costumes all organized, makeup done, hair done, and just make sure your vision was really coming along how you wanted it to.

After all, 'Perfume' was a big deal to you, now even more so due to the fact that your dream man was going to be your on-screen lover.

When Drew finally showed up at eight am, almost exactly on the dot, he was a little disorganized due to not getting as much sleep as he should have the night before.

You were talking to the director, clearly deep in the discussion as you explained your vision as best as your chaotic brain could.

"Drew is here," your manager came walking over.

Fuck.

You looked over, seeing Drew standing awkwardly by the trailers as he looked around at the film location.

It was pronounced you had chosen to do more of a countryside feel, the old farmhouse that had people constantly going in and out of it in order to set up for later scenes.

The location was beautiful, though. Grass, sand, hills, and for the actual land, it was quiet.

"Hey, good morning."

You walked over to Drew, trying to hide your pounding heart and the bags under your eyes (because, obviously, you hadn't been able to sleep the night before).

"Good morning." Drew looked at you, a small smile on his tired face.

"Are you hungry? We have breakfast and coffee over here," you guided Drew over to the food station, hands shaking with nervousness.

"Coffee sounds good, yeah." Drew murmurs, trying not to stare at you in your outfit.

You had chosen to wear blue overalls with a black long-sleeve shirt, and brown cowboy boots to fit into the countryside vibe you were going for.

"Sorry, I barely slept last night."

Drew shook his head, a small smile on his face.

"No, you're good. You just... look good."

Your eyes widened slightly at his compliment, your face feeling hot. God, why did he have to be fucking sweet?

"I don't normally wear this shit," you tried to deflect off of it and make a joke.

Drew smiled, shaking his head softly as he took a sip of the hot coffee.

"I'm assuming we're going to be cowboys?" He teased.

You shrug, a small smirk curling onto your lips.

"I couldn't pass up the opportunity to give everyone cowboy Drew." You joked back, instantly feeling a little embarrassed.

Being hyperaware and anxious was absolutely not helping anything about any and all interactions with him.

"Okay, so you're welcome to help yourself to anything. I have to film some solo shots, but probably in around thirty to forty-five minutes, the costume lady will come to get you."

You spoke, avoiding looking at him.

Drew hummed, watching you get all nervous and embarrassed. As much as he wanted to reassure you that you were fine, he couldn't deny how amusing it was to see you get all shy around him.

"Thank you," he murmured.

While you went off to shoot some solo stuff, Drew was in the trailer as the ladies gave him some makeup and fixed his short hair.

You wanted him to wear blue jeans, cowboy boots, and a plain white shirt that had some dirt on it to make the appearance that he had been working outside.

By the time Drew was dismissed, you were finishing up filming. Staring at the footage that was just shot, your song playing in the background as you stood around the property or lip sung.

Glancing over and seeing Drew in the damn outfit you picked made your heart physically flutter.

He looked good.

You would definitely be feeding his fans (and yourself) content.

“How do I look?” He walked over to you, a small smirk on his face.

“Good… yeah, uh, good. Exactly how I envisioned.”

Why the fuck were you so nervous? Why the fuck was he so handsome and intimidating?

He hummed, wanting to tease you a little more before the director cut in.

“Okay, so you two are going to be sitting in the truck. Drew will be driving with Y/n in the passenger seat. When I say ‘go’, I want Drew to slowly reach over and hold her hand. Look at each other with soft, warm, loving eyes.”

The director says. The two of you nod in agreement, getting into the truck.

Drew placed his hands on the wheel as you looked out the window. The filming location was genuinely so pretty, and you were very pleased with your decision.

The camera man slid into the backseat with the big camera, making sure the angles would all be right.

“Okay, three, two, one… action!”

You continue to stare out the window as Drew drives the truck along the grassy pathway, ‘Perfume’ playing in the background.

And I'm picturing you right now, I'm thinking of you right now

You tried not to have your breath hitch when you felt his large, warm hand grab yours and intertwine your fingers.

Glancing over at him, your eyes met his gorgeous blue ones, a genuine look of affection filling your gaze, mirroring his.

But his was probably fake, he’s an actor after all.

Drew gave you a soft smile, which caused a small grin to curl onto your lips.

“And cut!”

‘Perfume’ cut off, but you were hyperaware of the way Drew didn’t immediately pull his hand from your’s.

In fact, you were the first to pull away, nearly shitting your pants at the way your hand tingled.

Drew cut the engine of the car, the director coming to the passenger side window as he leaned against it.

“That was really good, you could feel the tension in the gaze. For the next shot, we want Drew to get out of the car with Y/n to follow. Outside the car, start walking up towards the house, when Drew is going to place his hand on your waist and pull you towards him. Share a passionate kiss, and press her against the door.” The director said.

Oh. Oh. Oh.

“Sounds good,” Drew hums, glancing briefly at you.

You swallowed, trying to ignore the way your face felt warm as you nodded in agreement.

‘Perfume’ started playing in the background again, the next scene about to start.

“Okay… three, two, one… action!”

'Cause I wanna do all of the things, baby, I said I wanna do with you… 'Less this is a lie and I don't know myself like I thought…

Wait, this is a mess, I could be wrong, I could be so damn mistaken

Both you and Drew got out of the car, a sheepish smile on both of your faces as you start walking towards the house.

Your heart stammered in your chest when you both stepped onto the porch and his large hand snaked around your waist, tugging you firmly into him.

He dipped his head down, capturing your lips.

You were kissing Drew fucking Starkey.

Immediately, you both melted into the kiss. Your hands were on his jaw and the back of his neck, his other hand going to rest on your lower back, just on top of your ass.

Drew almost forgot where he was for a minute as he slipped his tongue into your warm mouth.

He pressed your back against the front door of the house, you pulling him down so his body is flush against yours.

Fuck.

You were both thinking it.

“And, cut!” The director called.

You were both so raptured into the kiss neither of you heard it immediately.

“Cut!” The director called again, trying to hide his snicker.

Drew slowly pulled his lips away from you, his hands sliding off your body, making you feel cold.

“Sorry,” he murmured. His blue eyes bore into yours.

“You two take five, we needa get the bedroom all ready for the next shot,” the director said.

You moved away from the door to sit on the front patio furniture of the house. Your lips were tingling, mind racing at the thought that you just made out with your celebrity crush.

Drew looked sheepish and a little embarrassed that he let himself get so into a kiss. It was definitely a first for him.

“You want a water or anything?” Drew asked you.

“Uh, yeah, sure. Thank you,” you swallowed. You were still feeling a little breathless from what just happened.

By the time Drew came back with your water, the director had also returned.

Both you and Drew followed the man into the back bedroom of the old farmhouse. It was bare, with the basic furniture of a wardrobe, bed, and nightstands.

You wanted it to be basic, you wanted it to add the detail into the story you were trying to convey.

"So, we're going to set the camera up right at this angle. Drew push Y/n back onto the bed and climb on top of her, still kissing. Only break the kiss so you can both pull your shirts off. Then we're going to cut it into a birds-eye view. Sound good for now?" The director hums.

Oh. Drew was going to see you in your bra.

You might have forgotten about that when you came up with ideas for the music video.

Drew nods, his eyes flickering over to yours, meeting your gaze before you both quickly look away. Why was he so nervous?

He had seen boobs, he had seen women in bras. Maybe it was the fact that he was going to see yours was driving him a little crazy, making him forget all about his professional side for a moment.

You unbuttoned your overalls at the top so it would be easier to pull your shirt off for the scene.

"Three, two, one... action!"

But I'm picturing you right now, I'm thinking of you right now, I'm picturing you right now

With nothing on, with nothing on but my perfume

The familiar beat of your song and lyrics came on, but you paid absolutely no attention to it when Drew kissed you again.

He flopped you back onto the bed, your body bouncing slightly. But neither of you dared to disconnect your lips, his tongue slipping in your mouth yet again.

A very small, faint whine left your throat when he pulled away to tug his shirt off. No fucking way you just did that.

Unbeknownst to you, the small whine made Drew's entire body go rigid. His mind was starting to drift into what you would sound like actually in bed.

You arched your back up, trying to remember that there was a giant camera on you both. You pulled your black long-sleeve up and over your head, eyes staring up at Drew.

The way his pupils dilated more, that gorgeous blue swirling into a deep sea color. Fuck. You were both ruined.

He immediately connected your lips back to his, both your minds a state of pure need. But before anything else could happen--

"Cut!"

The word "cut" was starting to become your least favorite thing in the entire world. Drew pulled back, still hovering over you.

You finally let your eyes drift down to his bare torso, seeing those abs for the first time in person. But he wasn't the only one.

He tried so hard not to look, to be a gentleman, to be professional. But he felt his gaze slip down to you lying there in your bra, his mouth growing a little wetter.

"Y/n, spread your legs and let Drew lay in between them. When we say action, Drew start thrusting your hips as if you two are having sex. We'll keep the birds-eye view so it gives off the appearance that you two actually are."

As the director gives his next instructions, a set designer fixes the sheet to rest around Drew's hips, covering up the fact that you are both still wearing pants.

All you and Drew could do was nod. It wasn't really safe to speak, not when the sexual tension and chemistry between you two was so high.

Drew had filmed sex scenes before, it was a part of his job. But fuck. You were driving him insane, and you were barely even speaking.

You spread your legs as Drew shifted closer to you, trying to look anywhere but at your chest and face.

"Three, two, one... action!"

Call me in the morning, beg me in the night, I'll be over safely if you need it anytime

I'm picturing you right now, with nothing on, with nothing on but my perfume

He had begun to softly move his hips, his mouth instinctively attaching to your jaw, kissing down to your neck. Your hands dug into his broad shoulders and back, trying desperately not to let out a real moan.

Your eyes were fluttered shut, legs tightening a little more around him. There was no real pleasure being shared, but both your bodies were on autopilot, as if you were actually having sex.

It was the hottest either of you had ever felt.

The day continued on, with both you and Drew filming more romantic scenes. It was very surreal that this was all pretend because, at some points, it felt real.

The last scene was finally shot and everyone cheered with applause, happy the hard work and long day is over.

You were changing out of your film clothes and back into the sweatpants and hoodie you wore to set at six am this morning.

Drew had also changed, putting on his jeans and jacket.

You were going around and sincerely thanking every single person for their contribution and hard work, the last person finally being Drew.

Your eyes locked onto each other, a small smile creeping onto both your faces.

"Thank you so much, Drew, seriously. I couldn't have done this without you," you told him.

Drew shrugged nonchalantly, but he seemed a little sheepish at your genuine words.

"No, thank you. I had a lot of fun today, you were a lot of fun to film with." Drew replies, a warm look in his gaze.

He pulled you into another hug, your face pressed into him, arms wrapped tightly around each other.

"I hope this isn't the last time you see me," Drew murmurs in your ear.

Goosebumps erupted all over your skin, the moment reeling in your mind as you thought about when he hugged you and murmured how much he loved your song on Jimmy Fallon.

"It won't be, I promise."

You finally pulled away, a little reluctantly. You didn't wanna scare him off by holding him for too long.

"I'll eventually send you photo stills and snippets to post for promotion, but I don't want you to feel like you have to post anything or a shit-ton of stuff. I know you're busy," you tell him.

Drew shook his head. "Nah, I'll post them. Promise."

You nodded softly, a little grin on your face.

"Alright, Y/n. I'll see you around," Drew hums.

You watched as he walked away, a warm feeling in your chest.

You had finally returned home after the long day. After showering, changing into pajamas, and feeding yourself, you slide into your warm bed.

Grabbing your phone from the nightstand, your heart jumped when you read one Instagram notification in particular.

@/drewstarkey has messaged you

You quickly opened the notification, a smile on your face.

Drew Starkey: Just wanted to thank you again for the opportunity today. Had more fun than I should have

Your User: Ofc!! Maybe when the music video drops we can celebrate together :3

Fuck. Your thumb pressed send before you could double-think that message.

Drew Starkey: I like the sound of that

Oh.

tags!!

@slut4you @sweetlike-sugarplum @snowtargaryen @fastlovela @christinechickiee @ahgrace6 @evermorx89 @loren8818181 @eddiemuns0nl0ver @sophiesmovingcastle5 @chimchimjiminie16 @amel1ee @reader1402 @tqd4455 @rxeae @caraxes-syrax @shrimpybbq @drewstarkeysbabe @rafeswhoooreee @meropeeonmee @rafeluvrr @marvelahsobx @raeven-marie43 @fallout-girl219 @brendazzlingg @10ava01 @secretsideofbree @drewstarrrkey @p0gue420 @gibson-g1rl @kiiyomei @spiderstyles04 @sexualparkour @vinaluvsu @domainexpandme @mariadu2 @toterry @taliawz @always-reading @angvl3tears @iloveoldermenn @aesthetic-lyss @lover-girl-estxx @cadhlabear

[arminsumi]

S. GOJO ★ DID YOU KNOW THAT YOU'RE IN MY FANTASIES?

Pairing : fem reader / teacher!Gojo

Synopsis : Gojo j*rking off to fantasies of you until eventually the two of you do it together on a phone call.

Warnings/tags : 🔞 smut, solo male m*sturbation, p*rnstar fantasy, d!ck visuals, big d!ck Gojo, risky m*sturbation (office), slight perv behavior, toys, breeding kink, use of sl*t, dirty talk, m*sturbating on phone call, pillow humping, mutual m*sturbation, phone sex

Note : lol this is the post that got accidentally published once. i hate tumblr mobile!! 😿 i still want to edit the original bc it has some juicy stuff. but i put some of it into this 😈

Library | Gojo

The first time he does it, he doesn't actually realize that he's fantasizing about you. You enter his mind randomly one night as he winds down after a long day of teaching. He naturally slides his hands down his pants.

Satoru starts massaging his growing hard-on through the fabric. His big hand wraps around the veiny shaft and he gives it a few squeezes, sighing at the sensation.

Satoru hastily unbuckles his belt and slides it off with a whip-like snap, pale veiny hands rolling it neatly before setting it down on the table besides his bed. Those pale veiny hands quickly push down the hem of his pants and grab the base of his stiff cock.

He starts stroking it slowly up and down, with his eyes closed in relaxation and his other hand snuggled behind his head.

Jerking off leisurely, not rushing at all, just enjoying how it feels to pleasure himself with his own hand.

He pictures you naked. It's just a brief thought. He grumbles at himself and shakes the image out of his mind, as if he was indulging in a taboo act.

You're the teacher he works alongside. Every day you greet him with that sweet smile and kind voice that makes his heart tick. You're so innocent and untainted, he holds back from imagining you lewdly even though he really wants to.

He bites his lip at the thought of you.

Today was hard for him, you know, because your tight uniform seemed... especially tight. He commented on it in the afternoon, of course very subtly;

"Nice tits." he flirted jokingly. But his eyes were glued to your breasts like he'd never seen a pair before.

"Thanks. My uniform shrunk in the wash." you giggled in response.

"Ah, I see." he nodded understandingly, gulping when you bent over to pick something up — even if you tried to keep your skirt down, it still rose up your thighs just enough for him to find out that you wore a G-string.

The image of your body is stuck in his head now, when he's all alone in his king-sized bed.

It makes him cum. And he cums gently, letting out a barely audible grunt of breath while it dribbles out of his cockhole and runs down his shaft.

He swipes some cum off the underside of his cock and sucks it off his finger, tasting himself. Then he falls asleep like a baby, not thinking too deeply on the fact that he came to the thought of you.

****

The next few times get more and more intense.

His cock feels so much better when you're on his mind. Even when he's in a risky setting... like his office.

Though no one would dare to walk into Gojo Satoru's office without permission, there's still the risk that you could just burst into the room — maybe to complain about him slacking off.

He thinks about the risk, and it turns him on more... his cock twitches at the fantasy of you walking in on him stroking his big cock while sat in his office, long legs spread wide and head tilted back in ecstasy.

You'd find out the obvious but dirty fact that even Gojo Satoru needs to let off steam every now and then. He's not just a teacher all the time, he's also a frustratedly horny man.

Satoru squeezes the tip of his cock and clenches his jaw.

The angry veins decorating his shaft are all raised. His cock pulses harder at the thought of you walking through his office doors — he'd love to see your reaction. Would your mouth drop open? You'd find out just how huge his cock is. Would you offer to help? Nah, that only happens in porn, right? He keeps fantasizing about the scenario as if you and him are two pornstars on set.

In this fantasy, you're just sooo shocked and thirsty for Gojo Satoru's big cock, you can't help but ride him in his office even though you risk the whole school hearing the skin slapping and moans.

He pumps his fist up and down his cock faster. You know, originally he intended to nap — he rarely gets any sleep because of much he's needed in the Jujutsu world. But for some reason, after passing you by in the corridors, he got an angry boner that just wouldn't go away.

Working up a sweat under his black uniform, Satoru slumps down in the chair while totally getting lost in his pornstar fantasy of you. He gets too hot so he splits open his jacket and unbuttons his expensive shirt until his abs are exposed. It's funny, he's slowly turning into a performer... and all he's doing is just jerking off alone for himself.

"Fuck." he mutters under his breath.

He orgasms so hard while thinking of you deepthroating him that his toes curl — that never happens. Cum splatters on his abs and he breathes heavily.

You knock on the door and he gets shocked out of his skull.

"Gojo? I have those files you requested." you spoke through the door, "Can I come in?"

"Shit uh, wait! Just give me a second!" he yells, hurryingly cleaning his cum off his abs with a tissue.

He hastily discards the tissue, and buttons up his shirt, leaving a slit of his chest exposed to catch your eye, and calls for you, "Come in."

You swish your hips when you walk in, and it drives him nuts. He acts ordinarily, like he wasn't just getting off to a wild fantasy of you, his co-worker.

"Here they are." you say, and set the files down on his desk.

"Thanks." he stares at you hard.

You'd look so good bent over my desk.

"Gojo?"

"Yup?"

"You look flushed, do you have a fever?" you ask innocently.

He swallows and replies shakily, "Nah, I'm good. I was just... doing push-ups."

"In your... office? Fully clothed?" you eye him out confusedly.

He makes a cute, dumb face and shrugs his shoulders.

****

Satoru's made jerking off part of his nightly routine. It helps him sleep. And he also can't help himself; you're more in his life now than ever, he keeps your company often and his feelings are growing quick.

He's laid in bed.

His lips part erotically and his legs tremble as he furiously jerks off. Suddenly, he shoots forward and groans "Fuck!", cumming hard all over his crotch.

Satoru's cock doesn't want him to sleep tonight. It stands up again a few minutes after he cleans up his cum and rolls onto his side to sleep. He grumbles and tosses around, hoping his boner will go away.

But it doesn't.

So he starts grinding his cock into the bed, whimpering your name into his pillow. Why is he whimpering your name? And why can't he stop himself?

He scrunches up the duvet and humps it, ass muscles tensing with each rough thrust. The friction isn't enough, he starts stroking it with his hand.

But even that isn't satisfying enough.

I need a fleshlight so bad.

He squeezes his cock tight, massages his fat balls, switches hands even, does everything he can. But his cock is needy for more and his orgasm refuses to come along.

Satoru grumbles and stops, glaring up at the ceiling for a good long while before coming up with an idea.

He props a pillow and buries his heavy cock into it. Then he plants two big hands on it, grabbing it as if it's your hips, and thrusts his greedy cock back and forth.

The bed squeaks under the force of the Strongest's hard thrusts. He fucks the pillow and talks dirty to it in his mind, pretending it's you.

"Just let me have your pussy, please."

"You wanna have my babies? Of course you do. Slut."

"That's it, lay there and let me knock you up."

The thought of you squeezing his muscular biceps in your tiny hands is what makes him cum. He groans and clenches his teeth, jawline becoming super defined as he cums into the crinkled up pillow. His gooey cum spills out and stains the fabric.

He gets hit with a wave of post-nut clarity. "What the fuck..." he pushes his hair out of his eyes.

His forehead is sweaty, his chest is heaving, and he feels so guilty for getting off to you again.

****

So Gojo Satoru bought a fleshlight after that frustrating night. He rushed to leave work early, so you caught him.

"Don't be lazy, 'Toru." you frowned, "You're really gonna let me finish this paperwork all by myself?"

The doe eyes you gave him stuck in his mind. All he replied with was a suspicious chuckle and a lame excuse.

"I'm so tired, gimme a break just this once, please?" he pleaded, feeling his blood rush south. You looked especially good.

"Alright, fine then. Get some rest, okay?" you said caringly, letting him off.

He squeezes his cock into the pocket pussy and pumps it up and down quick, relishing in the sound of lube squelching.

The toy is too small for his big cock, but he likes that. It makes him think about how tight you'd be — oh damn it, there he goes again thinking of you when he really shouldn't be.

"I know it's too big, baby, but take it please..." he's dirty talking to you in his mind.

Satoru's got an unsuspecting kinky side to his personality, and it really shows as he fucks his toy. His heavy balls slap against the silicone, causing lube to squirt out.

He momentarily stills inside to suck the sticky cherry lube off his finger, imagining it's your juices. Thinking of how you taste makes his cock twitch, and he starts up with his pounding thrusts again, grunting under his breath and clenching his jaw.

Satoru's got an awful breeding kink. He once told you at a Christmas party that he hoped to start a family one day. Now suddenly as his orgasm works up with each thrust, he thinks back on your response;

"Me too, I'd love to have a big family."

He groans and twists your words in his fantasy; "Cum inside me, Satoru! Gimme your babies!"

"Fuck." he hisses, cumming hard inside the fleshlight.

Once isn't enough, he keeps filling it until he works up a sweat and his cock tires out.

After cleaning his cum out the toy, he washes his face in the bathroom and leans over the sink, shaking his head at himself for thinking of you saying such lewd things.

****

Fact: Satoru sleeps naked.

When passing the mirror in the mornings, he rubs his eyes and takes a moment to check himself out. He flexes his abs, and then a raunchy fantasy brews in his mind;

What if she rode my abs? Could I make her cum like that.

"Oh my god." he mutters out loud, rubbing his face in annoyance at his own horniness.

He slides on his sweatpants without underwear — cock too big, you know, gotta let it breathe without underwear. And he goes to the kitchen to make an super-sweetened coffee.

But his boner is annoying him. It stands up, making a bulging tent out of his sporty sweatpants.

Abandoning his coffee, Satoru gets his fleshlight and tapes it to the kitchen countertop, and squirts lube into it until it oozes out. He likes it sloppy.

Still thinking hard about the fantasy of you riding his abs, he lubes his abs up and caresses them slowly, feeling up and down his chest and tweaking his pink nipples for a bit before paying his cock attention.

"That's it, ride my abs. I know you like them."

He'd love to see you humping on his stomach like it's your pillow. As he slides into the fleshlight and slowly pumps in and out of it, he wonders how you touch yourself. Do you use toys, or your fingers? Do you take your time?

Pressing his two palms flat on the kitchen countertop, Satoru starts fucking the fleshlight harder and harder until the squelching sound is loud enough to reach his ears.

He's starting to think more deeply about you — how soft and warm your cunt must feel. How it would squish under the weight of his heavy cock. He'd definitely slap his cock onto your tummy to show you how much cock you were about to take inside.

Without thinking, he brokenly moans your name as he cums hard.

****

One night, you're on a call with Satoru. He lays back on his bed, long legs stretched out. Even though you're talking business stuff, the sound of your voice gets him hard and he rolls over — soft grunts carry through the phone to you.

"What are you doing?"

"Nothing. Moving around. You were saying?"

As you keep talking, Satoru starts subconsciously humping his pillow.

"Ugh, fuck..."

"What was that?"

"Sorry, got a cramp." he lies, sensitive cock twitching against the pillow.

He humps it harder and harder, sometimes slowing or stopping to reply to something you say.

"Are you okay? You sound like you're breathing heavily."

"Yeah, just... working out."

"... what's with you and working out so often? Didn't you work out in your office the other day? Freak." you giggle.

Your giggle makes his dick throb. He smiles guiltily.

"I've just been enjoying myself lately... um, with exercising." he speaks, voice sounding oddly sultry.

He keeps sliding his cock back and forth on the pillow. You return to the previous topic of grading problems, and he listens intently.

"What do you think, Satoru?"

He lets out a squeaky grunt that could easily be excused as one of those noises you make during exercise.

"Couldn't hear you, c-can you repeat that?"

"(blablablagradingsomethingsomething) Satoru." he hears you say his name at the end again and it brings his orgasm closer.

He nearly chokes as he swallows. "Yeahhh that sounds g-good... so good. Ugh, fuck."

"Satoru?"

He cums so hard hearing you call his name. As his cum spurts out, he pretends like nothing's happening and keeps talking to you in a shaky voice. A few seconds pass and he speaks a little more normally.

"Must be some work out routine to make you swear like that." you joke, voice suggesting that you knew exactly what he just did.

"Uh... y-yeah." he acts a fool. His face burns red hot realizing that he just possibly fucked up big time.

"Well, you're probably all sweaty and gross. Why don't you go shower and I'll call you back?" you suggest.

His heart beats hard and he cringes at himself. "Yeah, I think I'll go do that..." he looks down at his cum staining pillow. "... wish you could join me." he mutters under his breath.

"Wow," you giggle. "I didn't think you liked me in that way."

He grins, cheek squishing against his phone screen. "Sorry for being a perv."

"Not at all. I like the attention you give me."

His heart flutters. Well since the mood is set, he thinks, maybe he should prod and see how far he can take this.

"Do you think of me when you're alone in bed?" he asks.

When you hesitate to reply, he gets a little nervous.

"More than I'm willing to admit." you reply.

He smirks. "Oh yeah?" he flusters you with his deepened voice. "What do you fantasize about?"

"Mmm, come find out." you tease.

His boner is sticking up, begging for some relief.

"... I'm hard."

"Yeah, I'm wet."

"Uh... do you mind if I...?"

"Exercise?" you joke.

He giggles guiltily, "Yeah."

"... why don't we do it together?"

He widens his eyes and blanks for a second.

"You wanna touch yourself with me?" he asks in disbelief.

"I am already." you reply.

He chokes up, "Oh."

"So... what exactly were you doing earlier?" you ask suggestively, rubbing yourself through your panties slowly.

Satoru hums, "You wanna know my exercise routine?"

"Haha, yeah..."

"... I was just fucking my pillow. I never usually do that unless I'm really sensitive."

"Oh, so my voice got you sensitive?" you tease.

"Maybe." he replies breathily.

Precum beads out of the tip of his cock, enough to make a squelching sound as he jerks his hand only up and down the first few inches of his cock.

"... are you going fast or slow?" you ask.

"Kinda fast..."

"... okay, then I'll go faster, too."

Satoru listens intently, desperate to hear you moan. When he puts you on speaker, he can hear how wet you are.

"A-are you using a toy?" he asks, hearing some sort of thrusting action through the phone.

"Yeah... I'm trying to hit my G-spot but it's hard. Wish you could come help me." you pout and he can hear that cute pout.

"Shit, I'd love to. H-hold on a minute, will ya sweetheart? I wanna use my toy too. Keep touching yourself, don't stop."

Satoru hears your soft noises as he reaches over into his bed-side table drawer to fish out his toy and lube.

He hastily lubes up the fleshlight and slides into it. "Fuck..."

Biting on the hem of his shirt, Satoru exposes his flexing abs as he fucks his fleshlight loud enough for you to hear. He lazily tugs his shirt off with one hand, never stopping his thrusts.

"Satoru, I'm really close already..."

"I-it's okay. I can cum q-quick if you just say my name."

You can hear him pounding into the toy harder when you start moaning his name. All he needs to tip over is for you to announce your orgasm, and then he lets out a low growl and rolls his eyes back, releasing a hot load of cum.

His balls are squished up against the entrance of the toy as he stuffs every inch inside. And then oops, the poor toy breaks.

"Haha, fuck." you hear him

You ease out of your orgasm state and come back to reality. Oh, did you just have phone sex with Gojo Satoru?

"What happened?" you ask.

"I broke my toy." he replies smugly.

You laugh, "Oh, that's unfortunate." you say, "Well, if you need a new toy come pick me up tomorrow and take me out on a date."

"Wow."

© arminsumi

I do not permit the copying/reposting/translation/plagiarism of my works. Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.

This is fictional work.

[pyrodolls]

hi i was wondering if you would do headcannons of the yan!fanboy if reader actually noticed him coming to all their shows and events

OBSESSED (SUPERFAN! YANDERE BOY X POPSTAR! READER)

WARNINGS: stalking, average yandere tendencies, nsfw, perverted yandere, gender neutral reader, mentions of naked reader but no genitalia addressed, dom reader, reader is compliant with the yandere and teases him a ton, lowercase intended. btw i do not condone yanderes irl.

A/N: i hope y'all know i read every single one of your asks, comments, and reblogs. i appreciate them all and they do brighten my day. i'm just saying this so y'all know that the stuff you send to other writers (not just me) matters a lot!! when you interact it gives them inspiration!!! and motivation!! me personally sometimes i see ONE kind reblog and i immediately get my ass up and start writing something just because of that one person. don't get me wrong, i still love all my lurkers that silently like a ton of my stuff, y'all are important too. anyways i'll shut up now onto the hcs. (btw this ended up being a fic instead of hcs i apologize. i went crazy over this i'm sorry anon LMAO)

"hey, you look pretty familiar. have you been to a few shows before?" you asked kindly, facing the short man in the front row of the audience.

bayani froze as the stadium's screens pointed to him. he opened his mouth in an attempt to say something, but nothing came out. his face went red and his throat went dry. did you actually notice him, or was he just dreaming?

after a few seconds of waiting for an answer, you shrugged. "sorry, maybe i mistook you for someone else. anyways..."

the yandere boy still didn't move, with his mouth agape, as you continued on with your show. the people around bayani didn't seem to care, assuming that he was just a starstruck fan. but it was more than that. much more than that.

out of the millions of fans that attend your shows and events, you recognized him among them. you noticed him. and he didn't know how to handle it. what was he supposed to say? what would you even talk about? sure, he's seen all of your interviews and heard your music and dissected your lyrics for hours every single day, but would you ever want to interact with him as much as he wanted to interact with you? he was just a lowlife. he had an average job, average amount of money, he lived in a shitty apartment, and he had no friends or major accomplishments. all of his free time outside of work was spent on you. spent on following your every move and investigating everything you've put your hands on. if you ever spoke to him, you'd probably think he was some sort of pathetic stalker.

that thought drove him mad. he couldn't even focus on the rest of your concert. he didn't hear the blaring music and screams from the crowd. he wasn't paying attention to your performance, either.

he could only stand there and imagine the punishments you'd inflict on him if you found out about his obsession. would you call your security to take him away? he'd hope not. if he's going to be kicked and pushed around, perhaps even handcuffed, he'd rather you do the job rather than some random guard. but maybe he'd accept the punishment, only because you were the one who deemed it necessary. he takes your word like gospel, so he'll take whatever punishment you want, even though he would prefer your hands on him while you do it.

his imagination ran wild as your concert finished and you walked off the stage with your dancers. the crowd of fans in the stadium dispersed around him, moving along with their day. but bayani couldn't just move on with his day knowing that you know he exists now. how is he supposed to simply move on from that? he spent a long time making sure you never noticed him. even though he attended every single one of your concerts and events, he did not want to be noticed. he knew he wouldn't be able to handle it. but it finally happened. he finally got a taste of what it's like to be seen by the love of his life. he couldn't just leave it at that. he had to do something about it.

being under your gaze, even if it was only a few seconds, made him feel like he went to heaven. it made all of the hundreds of dollars he spent on you worth it. all of the hours he spent listening to your music and watching videos of you was worth it. it was like he awoke from a slumber. a long, miserable slumber. he had to find a way to thank you. say something to you. he messed up when he simply froze after you saw him. who knows when he'll get another chance like that?

it took a few hours for the stadium to be empty, and the security started to shoo bayani away. but when he went outside, the parking lot was still full. your concert ended hours ago, but there was still loads of cars trying to leave. it would be frustrating, but bayani had to find a way out quickly.

he climbed on the back of a nearby truck and rested his legs there, waiting patiently for the vehicle to move out of the traffic. even though he knew the truck wouldn't go anywhere near your mansion, he knew how to get to your house on foot. he only needed to rest on the truck until the traffic was gone.

after a few hours on the road, he jumped out of the vehicle, and started to walk to your mansion on foot. he didn't need to look up the location online, because he already knew where it was. he visited your home many times in the past, he just never attempted to go inside before.

his veins were on fire and he started to sweat the closer he got. he was starting to have second thoughts about his idea. but there was no time to go back, because he already showed up to your house before he could change his plans.

to get inside, he had to climb up a tree, jump off of it, and land in your backyard. he used that trick often in the past, since it was not his first time going to your house. he often snuck on your property to watch or take pictures of you while you slept.

he tried opening your bedroom window, but it was locked. he had to try a different one.

he went over to a window beside your bedroom, and thankfully, it was unlocked. but the moment he opened the window, he heard the sound of water running and your familiar voice humming a song. were you in the shower?

bayani climbed inside as quietly as possible, and closed the window behind him. his suspicions were correct. he was in your bathroom, and you were taking a shower. your curtains covered up your figure, so he couldn't see you.

bayani looked to the side of the room and saw a pile of your dirty clothes on the floor. he ran up to it and immediately took a large whiff at the pile. it smelled divine to him. he couldn't get enough of it. he quickly spotted your used underwear in the pile and snatched it without thinking, then he stuffed it in his pocket. you wouldn't notice, right?

before he could take the rest of your clothes, the water suddenly stopped. bayani ran to hide, in a spot where you couldn't see him but he could see you. you opened the shower curtains and stepped out with a towel in your hands. you were completely naked, and still drenched in water. bayani felt like he died and went to heaven again that day. he couldn't believe what he was seeing. you were completely naked, right in front of his eyes. ignoring the puddle in his pants, he nervously fumbled around his pockets, trying to find his phone. there was no way he could pass up an opportunity like this. without hesitation, he snapped a photo of you.

but he didn't notice that the flash was on.

he froze, and you looked towards him. neither of you said a word, and bayani saw his future flash before his eyes. you would probably scream for security and he would get taken away to prison, never to see your face again. his life would be over.

"you're the guy i've been seeing everywhere, huh?" you whispered.

"...are you going to, uh... send me away?" bayani gulped.

you thought about it for a moment. this guy clearly cared a lot about you, because you saw him literally everywhere you went. no matter what country you visited, he was always there. even if you didn't tell a single soul where you were going, he was somehow always there. you even saw him on your property a few times, so you knew how crazy he was. but you still let him do it. and you never reported him, either. you knew exactly what he wanted. you could always hear him moaning outside your window, knowing he would have one hand down his pants and a camera on the other.

he was cute, so why not have some fun with him?

"come here." you commanded. he followed your order without thinking, immediately falling down to his knees in front of you.

you grabbed his chin, and made him look up at you. he felt hot tears well up in his eyes as you stared him down. he didn't say a word, but you knew exactly what he was thinking.

you pressed your knee against the wet stain on his pants, and he let out a pathetic whimper. he was getting off on it.

he didn't know what to do. his dreams were finally coming true. he got noticed by you, got into your house, saw you naked, and you finally touched him. he was overwhelmed, and started crying. he didn't mean to look so weak in front of you for a first impression, but he couldn't help it. besides, he'd make a fool out of himself any day for you.

"you're so pathetic.. you've been stalking me for so long, and now you break into my house to see me naked. i could call the police and have you arrested..." you whispered, as you started putting more pressure on his crotch, moving your knee up and down on it, and inching your face closer to his.

he sobbed, “please, don't! i promise, it'll never happen again. i'll stop, i'll do whatever you want, i'll-"

you cut him off by connecting your lips to his, setting his heart on fire. you pulled away after a few seconds, leaving him speechless. there's no way you just kissed him. he had to be dreaming.

and then you moved your knee away from his crotch right before he could cum, making him let out a whimper and crumble to the ground.

"thanks for letting me have some fun with you. we can do this again soon.. if you be a good boy and return my underwear." you winked, walking away and leaving bayani a hard, pathetic, leaking mess on your bathroom floor.

[hoe4hotchner]

Hiii!! Could you do another non bau rich fem!reader where she gave Aaron lots of designer stuff and he starts wearing them to work? Like maybe ties, cuff links, and like an LV duffel bag and the team is just like “??? Woah dude where’d you get that??”

Subtle flex | [A.H]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x rich fem!reader| WC: 0.9k | CW: nothing

Aaron Hotchner was usually not one for excess. His wardrobe was practical and professional, his tastes minimalistic, and his life, outside of Jack, revolved around efficiency and exuding authority on the job. Sure he had splurged occasionally on a stray high-quality tie here and there as well as his Rolex watch. At least that was until you entered his life.  

The first gift was a tie — a deep navy one in silk with subtle pinstripes. It came in a sleek wrapped box with some designer brand he had never even heard of before. You’d handed it to him with a casual smile, brushing off his initial protests with a light, “Aaron, I saw it and thought of you. Let me spoil you for once.”  

He wore it the next day, paired with his standard black suit, and noticed how it caught the light in the mirror. “Looks good,” he muttered to himself, brushing his hand over it. As hesitant as he had been to accept it, he was thankful for the present and happy that you'd chosen one that wasn't smothered in logos or brand names.

Then came the cuff links. They were sterling silver and engraved with his initials. He opened the box late one evening after you handed it to him over dinner. “You didn’t have to,” he said softly, though his smile betrayed how much he loved them.  

“Of course, I didn’t have to,” you replied, leaning in to press a kiss to his temple. “But you deserve nice things, Aaron. You do so much good without even expecting a thanks.”  

And so it continued. A Louis Vuitton duffel bag for his work trips, a black leather wallet that somehow managed to look even more professional than the one he’d carried for years, and a collection of even more ties that were understated yet undeniably luxurious and seemed to multiply in his closet every so often.  

At first, he rotated the items slowly into his everyday wardrobe, unsure if they would draw attention. But one particularly chaotic morning, he grabbed the LV duffel, clipped on the cuff links, and shrugged into a jacket before heading into the office having gotten an urgent notification for a case.  

It didn’t take long for the team to notice.  

“Uh… Hotch?” Morgan’s voice cut through the usual buzz in the conference room as Hotch entered. “Is that a Louis Vuitton bag you’re carrying?”  

Hotch glanced at him briefly, setting the duffel down by the door before striding towards the front of the room to grab the file Garcia was holding outstretched for him. “Yes. Why?”  

Morgan blinked. “Why? Man, you’ve been holding out on us. Since when do you roll up looking like you just stepped out of GQ Magazine?”  

Emily leaned back in her chair, eyebrows raised. “Is that a new tie, too? That’s at least Tom Ford.”  

Hotch adjusted his tie instinctively. “It’s not. It’s Brioni.”  

“Oh, excuse us,” JJ chimed in throwing her hands up and exchanging an amused glance with Emily.  

“I’m sorry,” Spencer Reid piped up, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Are those cuff links monogrammed?”  

“Okay, seriously,” Morgan said, crossing his arms. “What’s going on, Hotch? You win the lottery or something? Cause if your salary is high enough for those purchases Imma have to talk to Strauss about a raise.”  

Hotch, shrugged lightly as he opened his case file. “No. My girlfriend has… a habit of giving gifts.”  

The room fell silent for a beat before Emily’s jaw dropped. “Wait, girlfriend? You’ve been holding out on us in more ways than one!”

"Who is she I need details," Garcia cut into the conversation, her excitement starting to bubble over.

JJ smirked. “Are you telling me she just gives you designer gifts casually? I agree with Garcia, who is this woman?”  

Hotch allowed himself the smallest of smiles as he glanced up from his paperwork. “Someone who insists I deserve the finer things.”  

“Damn,” Morgan muttered, shaking his head. “Where can I find one of those?”  

“Maybe start with charm school,” Emily teased.  

As the team bantered, Hotch’s phone buzzed on his desk. A message from you:  

Miss you already. Hope you’re putting the cuff links to good use. Dinner at my place when you get back?

He smiled quickly at his phone before typing back a quick reply.  

Always. I’ll bring the wine.  

When he looked up, the team was staring at him, curious. “What?” he asked, his tone amused, knowing fully well that they wouldn't stop bothering him about you until he eventually agreed to let them meet you.  

“Nothing,” Emily said, though her grin suggested otherwise. “Just trying to imagine Aaron Hotchner in love with a rich fashionista.”  

“Not just a fashionista,” Morgan added, gesturing toward the duffel. “An angel sent from the heavens, apparently.”  

Hotch shook his head, lifting his file up in the air in a quick and smooth motion as if to remind them why they were there. “Focus, everyone. We have a case.”  

A few days later, when you saw Aaron again, he mentioned the team’s reaction with a mix of exasperation and amusement.  

“I think they’re more interested in my wardrobe than the case,” he said, loosening his tie as he sat beside you on the couch.  

You laughed softly, running a hand through his hair. “Let them wonder. They’ll get used to it eventually.”  

“I’m not sure they ever will,” he muttered, leaning into your touch.  

“Good,” you teased, leaning in to kiss him. “I like keeping them on their toes.”  

[prettyboykatsuki]

✮ tags ; pwp, fem + afab!reader, dubcon (reader is drunk af), dirty talk, rough-ish sex, the liiiightest yan undertone. 18+

✮ a/n ; im not a kiri fucker but i . had a thought in the shower

Kirishima fucks like he has something to prove.

That part of him hasn't changed, you think. It's a bad time to be reminiscing about such a thing, especially since your brain can't think of anything other than how good it feels to have such a thick cock buried in your sore, weeping cunt.

Kirishima has stopped briefly, just to bottom out and press his navel to your sex - so your brain has a little space to think. You don't know exactly how you've ended up here after thinking about it for a long time. The alcohol is making your head feel fuzzy and your lower half is weak, might melt into Kirishima's nice king size bed if you're not careful.

An hour ago, you had come off of work and joined some friends in an izakaya. Kirishima was there too, seemingly with his own friends. You hadn't seen him since middle school, when he shorter and more negative. You had a crush on him then, back before all the hero stuff.

It was refreshing to see a boy your age obsesses over something like being a perfectly chivalrous man. You were friend though not closely, and had a dopey school girl love affair that never came of fruition. You didn't speak to him after that, weren't close enough to ask - and watched him grow into a hero through televised events and news.

He's a pro now. He was much bigger than you thought he'd be. You didn't think men could get that big, unless they played basketball or something. He was shorter than you in middle school but when you saw him again in person, he was double your height. You had to crane your neck up just to get a good look at his face. Defined jaw and rugged, boyish charm that made your cheeks warm like you hadn't grown out of being a girl.

You thought he wouldn't recognize you since he's basically famous now, but he did. Flagged you down and whisked you away for drinks and catch up time. Your friends pushed you to go, so you did. You drank and spoke about nothing in particular and Kirishima seemed so enraptured with you - you thought the alcohol had fried your brain. Thoroughly tipsy and giggly, you admitted to having a crush on him in long and unnecessary detail. That you liked him, and seem to still if this feeling is anything to go by.

You hadn't expected anything of it. But he kissed you in the corner of the bar and asked if you had anywhere to be, hauled you into a taxi when you said no and made out with you on the way home. Put his hand underneath you shirt and squeezed your waist, said something about how cute you are. Always have been.

No one seemed to think anything of it when you left. Pro-Hero's escort drunk girls all the time, but you wonder if it's normal to fuck them? You wonder if Kirishima has practice in bring home drunk girls who are too big for their boots and too needy to be anything but sincere.

He's so good at fucking you, you aren't sure you'd mind that being true. Not like this.

He didn't give you any time to adjust to what was going on, every breath had him chasing more of you like he'd run out of time if he didn't rush. He carried you inside, licked your pussy while you laid against his kitchen counter and finger fucked you until you could take all eight inches of him. Was he always this relentless? You know he was never kind, no matter how much he seems it. He was always critical and cunning, but you didn't expect him to be so ruthless.

He doesn't let you off of his cock after he gets you on it. Makes you wrap your arms around his shoulders even though you barely can because he's so big. Makes you wrap your legs around his waist and tells you to hold tight as he walks you up the stairs with his cock still twitching. The whole thing makes your eyelids burn with pleasure, your body yearning to keep him inside of you for as long as you can stay conscious which is barely when you're this wasted.

He dropped you in his bed and fucked you in missionary. You think in the span of a few hours, you've spent more of it feeling his cock throb inside of you longer than you've spent without. He's too big, and fucks mean. There's no chivalry in it, just pure primal desire behind weight and heavy thrusts that make you gasp involuntarily.

You haven't stopped cumming. You've never done that so much in a row. Your body feels nearly numb as you think on it. He's been keep you like this for so long and the alcohol is making you lightheaded. You can barely understand what he's saying except that he's loved you for so long. You wonder if that's true. Your pussy likes it though, clenches every time he groans into your neck after the headboard hits the wall with his thrusts.

He fucks you like he wants to prove something to you. You don't know what exactly. You're drunk and floaty and you can't stop cumming and you can't think of anything other than how much you want him to fuck your brains out. How much you want him to cum, so deep in your pussy you'd have to push it out to get rid of it. How much you want to cum around his cock until you get so fuckdrunk you pass out on it.

A little pleasant catching up and now you can't unfurl your spine from the way it's raised, and your toes hurt from how tight they've curled. You feel ditzy with it. Didn't know cock could make you cum so much you turn stupid and babbling. It's all you've been doing and Kirishima doesn't seem to mind it all. Just laughs at your nonsense words and kisses you with sharp teeth and fucks you.

And fucks you and fucks you and fucks you, with your knees to your ears and your eyes blurry and hazed.

"Kirisihima-kun," You gasp at him, breathless and hot.

"Eijirou," He corrects with a nip to your mouth. "We won't leave each other now. Not anymore."

He punctuates with the promise with a thrust so deep you can't do anything but agree. You wonder if all this is trying to prove his love for you, but how you could that be true? It's been years.

Another thrust makes your lower belly clench, and something squirts out of you mid thrust. You're too hazy to feel self-conscious of it and Kirishima only laughs.

You close your eyes and let him have you. Again and again and again.

[reredaydreams]

A Pierce through the Heart || Jeon Jungkook

When you go to get your nipple pierced, but something else gets pierced too (it’s a metaphor, if you know what I mean).

Paring: tattoo artist (& piercer) jk x reader

Warning: this story contains mature content, 18+

Content: smut, fluff, oral!f receiving, tit sucking, fingering, doggy style, missionary, squirting, love at first sight?, nipple piercing, unprotected sex, light dirty talk, eating out, after care, edging

Wc: 6k

It was past seven in the evening by the time you entered the tattoo shop, the cool ventilation of the air conditioner giving you relief from the hot summer weather, welcoming your way into the shop. The chilled environment sent tiny shivers down your body, a result of wearing a white tank top, accompanied by a flowy, black skirt with a red lace ribbon tied around your waist as a belt, and a tote bag hanging off your shoulder. All clothes that equipped you for the weather outside.

You glanced around the empty space, it was different from the typical tattoo shop. It felt more artistic than edgy as you would expect from a place like this. Pictures of tattoos done in different colours were hung on the walls accompanied by abstract paintings. Most odd of all, little bonsai trees, a lot of them decorated the brown and white interior alongside the casual furniture expected in a tattoo shop.

“Welcome. I’ll be right there with you in a moment,” an oddly familiar, low, melodious voice made its way to your ears. Turning your gaze to the source, you saw a man wearing a tank top, with washed denim jeans standing with his back to you, doing something on a table further into the shop. He was the only other person here.

Your eyebrows arched up, pupils enlarging as the man turned towards you, his face coming into view, a similar expression masking his face once he glanced upon you.

“Y/n,” a low whisper left his mouth, as he made his way to you, a shine displayed in his eyes. “A, hey! We met at the bar last week, I don’t know if you rem—,”

“I remember, Jungkook?” You cut him off, confirming that the memory of the encounter was still in your thoughts, before taking a pause and uttering his name in a way of looking for confirmation that you recalled correctly. He nodded with a small smile on his lips, having been glad to know you still remembered him.

Oh, you knew it was jungkook, a name of a person who had occupied your brain since the moment you met him last week. His voice still lingering in your ears while his pretty face became a beautiful scenery for your closed eyes.

It was a Friday evening, following a long and hectic week at work when you, along with your best friend, had decided to go to a jazz bar to relax and enjoy the day going into the weekend.

The bar was lit with rich and warm lighting, giving it a cosy environment, accompanied by a local band playing some tunes on the small stage. Some people danced, swaying to the music, letting go of the stresses of the week, while others enjoyed the delicious food and drinks offered at the place.

You and Yeri, your best friend, sat on the high stool tables placed along the border of the bar, as you both sipped away at your drinks, talking about all the random topics that came to mind.

“So basically, he allows them to take his brain cells and send them to space, in the trajectory of the coming aliens, so that they would seek out to capture the spaceship, and we will be closer to the aliens, and learn stuff about them,” you sloppily explain the plot of a recent sci-fi series you have been watching.

“But are a single clump of cells really a human, though?” Yeri asked, taking a sip of her drink. “Right, I don’t think so, but the aliens probably have some technology to rebuild the human, and maybe retain some information,” you tried to make the objective of this move clearer.

“That makes me wonder, though, the concept of having a soul, does it really exist? Or, for the fact where? Is it in your body?” You thought out loud to your friend, swirling the glass of wine in your hand, as your mind delved further on the concept. “I’m not sure, that’s a deep question,” Yeri acknowledged.

“Ya. It’s just that, a ‘soul’ just feels celestial, like the concepts of magic, or a god, rather than something so humanly connected to the body,” you completed your thought, receiving another hum in response, followed by a comfortable silenced engulfing the air around you both, as your minds swam in the ocean of your thoughts.

After a few minutes, Yeri’s voice broke you out of your trance, “wanna go dance, to loosen up a bit?” She suggested. “It’s okay, you go ahead, I’ll rest here for a bit,” you assured her with a small smile.

“Okay! I’ll be back in a while,” Yeri conveyed as she quickly gulped down her glass of alcohol and eagerly made her way to where others were enjoying the music.

You shook your head at your friends' actions, as a small laugh left your mouth. You knew exactly why she wanted to go dance; something or perhaps someone had caught her eyes.

You went back to playing with your glass, as your mind was ready to set forth on a journey of thoughts, but as soon as Yeri set out on her way, a melodious voice cut through the air, making its way to your ears.

“I agree with you. It truly does feel something celestial, something so magical,” the person voiced out their thought turning to lock their eyes with yours, confirming that they were, in fact talking to you. “The ‘soul,’ that is.”

Your breath almost hitched, as your eyes laid upon the man in front of you; god, he was gorgeous. The cute plump lips, where a small smile casted upon them, the bread like cheeks, that looked so soft, and those chocolatey brown eyes that shone as they gaze upon you behind those black, clear glasses, were just so captivating.

His soft wavy hair fell just below his jaw, slight hints of an undercut peeking through, while a few strands of hair strayed to his forehead. Your eyes travelled down his body; he was wearing a black leather jacket, opened to give a glimpse at the white compression shirt underneath that highlighted his muscular body even more. The trails of ink that travelled from beneath his jacket, caressing the skin of his slender hands, and the piercings that marked his body, the ones on his ears, and especially the one that traced under his shirt, just added to his already breathtaking beauty.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. It’s just that the topic you were discussing was so intriguing, I couldn’t help but to overhear,” he said, breaking you out of your trance of gawking at him. A worried smile masked his lips but yet a hopefulness sparked in his eyes.

“Oh, it’s all good. I love having conversations on such topics, and you said you found it intriguing, so, why don’t you tell me more of your thoughts on it?” You assured him invitingly, placing your elbow on the counter, leaning your head into the palm, giving him your undivided attention.

“Well…”

You didn’t know when an hour and half passed, as you got lost in the rhythm of his words, and the ocean of thought as you both bounced off of each other’s questions, travelling through topics, from space to philosophy, sharing your own intellects.

His way of words was so enchanting, continuing the conversation in a way that never let your attention deviate away from him. His presence was comfortable, as if talking to a friend you haven’t seen in a long time. His eyes were calm, making a safe space for you to share your opinions. In this small time you spent with him, you knew one thing for sure, you wanted to keep talking to him.

As you finished a passage to a point he had brought up, you laid your arm out on the table, causally in his direction, resting your head on your biceps, letting a soothing silence engulf the space, while the voices and music blurred in the background.

He took a sip of his drink to hydrate his throat that had become dry from all the talking, as he observed your movements from his peripheral vision. Once settling down his glass, he followed suit, resting his head on his arms on the counter.

You saw his hand gradually travelling to your hand, as his fingers intervened with yours, playing with them gently, caressing them in between. All the while his gaze remained deep into your eyes, displaying unsaid emotions clearly.

You closed your eyes, feeling his soft touches on your skin, his warmth feeling as if you were laying under the sun on a breezy summer day, his perfume adding to the image, as the citrusy, yet fresh smell painted a picture of a serene ocean in your mind with every deep breath you took.

As you were lost in the solace of the moment, another thought struck your mind; you didn’t know the name of this beautiful man in front of you.

“I’m sorry, all the while we were talking, I didn’t even bother asking your name,” you spoke out, opening your eyes to meet those that were still looking at you in the same manner as before. He observed the tiny frown tugging at the corner of your lips. “Jungkook, Jeon Jungkook,” he relayed with a tender smile. “And don’t be sorry, I didn’t have the courtesy to ask the name of such a beautiful woman either,” he conveyed with a small pout.

A small laugh escaped your lips, before you informed him of your name. “Y/n,” he repeated with such familiarity, as if the name was made specifically for his mouth. He parted his lips once more to say something, but was interrupted by Yeri’s voice, making you both sit up straight.

“Y/nie,” she cooed, circling her arms around your shoulders, resting her head against your back. She was drunk. You held on to her arms, worried about your friend, you inquired, “are you okay Yeri? Is everything alright?”

“Hmm, yess, yess, I just wanna go home,” she whined. You were used to this, as you were like the mother of your friend group, always taking care of everyone out of your love for them.

You guided her arms to unwrap around you, standing up, holding on to her arm to keep her steady. You turned to look at Jungkook, who was already gazing at you warmly, admiring the way you took care of your friend.

“I’m sorry, I’ll have to head out now,” you spoke out, your eyebrows creasing in slight displeasure as you still wanted to continue to talk to him. “Oh, it’s alright, but before you go, could I get—,” as jungkook was about to complete his sentence, Yeri began to drag you outside, and all you could do was look back at him with an apologetic expression, as he did his best to assure you with his smile, waving you bye.

You couldn’t help but smile at the memories of that night, and how Yeri kept apologising to you for her behaviour that night, and accidentally preventing you from getting his number. She felt so guilty, even trying to find him for you on social media platforms, but it was no use. However, you guaranteed her that it wasn’t her fault, and maybe that connection you felt with Jungkook that night wasn’t meant to be anything more, but who knew, you would run into him again like this.

You looked up to meet his eyes, that were busy admiring your look, travelling down your body, respectfully of course. You observed that he wasn’t wearing any pair of glasses today.

“I’m sorry, for leaving so abruptly that day,” you said, bringing his attention back to your face. “Oh, no no, I totally understand,” he shook his head to make his point, while a small blush crept on his cheeks, having been caught in the act of checking you out.

“So, how can I help you today?” He questioned, clearing his throat. “Oh, right, I had booked an appointment for a piercing,” you explained.

“Yes yes, you are my last appointment for the day. So, what type of piercing are you planning to get today?” He asked, recalling his schedule.

“A nipple piercing,” you said nonchalantly, tilting your head to the side a bit, as you gazed upon him.

His eyebrows slightly raised, pupils enlarging, as he visibly gulped, a slight red hue appeared on cheeks. He looked so cute with the nervous expression that masked his face, causing a mischievous look to play in your eyes.

“You do those, right?” you playfully inquired, acting as if you weren't fully sure, but you had already confirmed with a person on the phone earlier. “We do. Follow me this way,” he guided, slowly picking up on your teasing.

He led you to a back room, in which there was a tattooing chair situated beside a table with some tools, and a couch on the other side. The space still aligned with the overall warm and brown theme of the shop, while there were once again, small bonsai plants decorating the room.

You walked over to a table that stood beside the couch, adorned with the plant on top, observing it closely while you waited for Jungkook to come back from washing his hands.

“My business partner really loves nature, so he decorated the whole studio with these plants,” Jungkook explained, having seen you looking keenly at the plant while walking in. You hummed in response, turning to meet his eyes, which held eye contact with you for a moment, before turning to the equipment on the table.

“Please, take off your upper garments and lay comfortably on this chair,” he instructed, motioning towards the chair next to the table where he was standing, his eyes still directed towards the tools in his hands.

You began lifting up your tank top ever so slowly to tease him, knowing that he could see you from his peripheral vision. Unhooking your bar, you left it on the couch, along with your tank top. Following his instructions you got into a comfortable position on the chair. He made his way to you, taking a seat on the stool beside the tattooing chair.

“So, you want one piercing on the left side?” he questioned, to confirm once again, looking directly into your eyes. You gave him a small nod, his eyes travelling down to your chest, lingering there for a moment, before meeting your eyes once again.

“Hmm, the nipple needs to be erect when it is pierced, usually we use a clamp, which can be a bit painful, however, I have another method to make it erect,” jungkook informed, maintaining eye contact with you, while a small smirk rested on his lips. “You want to try that, y/n?” He asked, with a till of the head.

“Yes,” a low whisper left your lips, followed by his hand tracing down your neck to your left nipple, his index finger tracing circles around the areola. His face came closer to your chest, his breath fanning your upper boob, lips just inches from touching your skin.

His eyes turned up to meet yours, asking for permission with an arch of the eyebrow. With a small grin you indicate your interest, your hand travelling to the back of his neck, gently wrapping around it as he peeked out his tongue, licking from its bottom to top. He kept circling it around the nipple, licking it in between, causing a small whine to leave your mouth due to his teasing.

He finally latched his lips onto the now already hard nipple, sucking on it enticingly, rolling it around in between his teeth. His one hand went to the other one, gently rubbing it with his thumb. It felt good, low moans leaving your mouth. After a while, he pulled away, a string of saliva connected his lips to your boob.

He grabbed a tissue, cleaning the liquid, before grabbing an alcohol wipe to clean the nipple that was now prominent. He marked it as you had asked, grabbing a sterilized needle, and quickly piercing it, and inserting a small rod with a ball on one side through the hole, connecting another one on the other end.

“There you go, all done,” he declared, putting the supplies back on the table before turning back to you. Your eyes were on him, looking at him with intent and lust, indicating that you wanted something more, just like he did. He brought his face just inches away from yours, looking deep into your eyes, while a small, playful smile rested on his lips.

“Y/n, do you want this?” He questioned. You knew what he was insinuating, it made you a little annoyed that he was asking you such a question when he clearly knew the answer.

Your hand makes its way to his torso, feeling his toned abs hiding under his top, before walking your fingers to his chest, just above his heart. You probed around the area, playing with the piercing that was there for a moment, and then continuing your way to his shoulder. You gently wrapped your fingers around his neck, pulling him in closer as if to kiss him, but instead you glided your lips to his ears, leaving him a bit disappointed.

“I do, but do you?” You whisper into his ear. He snaked his arm around your waist, his grip tight as if he was scared that you would back out. “Oh, you don’t know,” his voice came out in a low whisper, a desperation lacing it. “I have wanted this since I first laid my eyes on you,” and as those words left his mouth, his lips were on your jaw, trailing sloppy kisses along the bone, exploring down to your neck and sucking on it passionately.

He guided your legs to wrap around his waist, picking you up and bringing you to the couch that was in the corner of the room, while being careful of your new piercing. Laying your body on the couch, he backed away from your neck, his hand going the waistband of your skirt, gliding them off your body, along with your panties and discarding them on the floor.

He made his way between your legs, taking a moment to admire your body that just looked so divine to his eyes. He wanted a taste so bad, he just couldn’t hold himself back anymore. He pinned your one arm above your head, going in to suck on your nipple that remained unpierced, while his free hand made its way to your clit, rubbing between the pussy lips in an up and down motion. A sound of satisfaction left your mouth, having gotten him where you needed the most.

He continued to make out with your tit in greed, before trailing warm kisses to your stomach, down to your pelvis. He pulled away, spreading your lips to look at your needy pussy. “So pretty, baby,” he commented, admiring it with a lustful gaze. “So wet for me already,” he teased, going in to devour all of you, causing a whine to leave your mouth.

His tongue rubbed circles around your clit, flicking the nerve in between, before his lips wrapped around it, sucking on it in hunger. He iterated on these motions, sending you into a bliss, and ohh, when he inserted his fingers into you, pumping them in and out, it drove you over the edge as your thighs squirmed around his head riding out the orgasm on his mouth.

He pulled away, sitting on his knees, in between your legs, gazing down at your body in adoration, satisfaction masking his face at the observation of the effects he had on you. Your chest raised up and down assisting the flow of your quick breaths, as you catched a breath after your high, while a tiny layer of sweat coated your forehead.

Your eyes remained fixed on him, as he brought his fingers, covered in your cum, to your lips, sticking his fingers in and exploring your mouth, pushing down on your tongue hitting the back of your throat. You gagged at the motion, sucking his fingers obediently not breaking eye contact. He pulled away and licked the rest up, devouring it clean. A hum of content left his mouth at the delicious taste produced by the both of you, all the while his eyes remained locked with yours, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

He brought his hand to the sides of his tank top, pulling it above his head and discarding them on the floor, along with your clothes. Your eyes now came in view of the Calvin Klein underwear that peeked from under his jeans, and that nipple piercing that had been teasing you for the longest, looked even better on him than you imagined. It was so vulgar, in the best way possible. You bit your lower lip, as the view made your insides feel even more warm.

He quickly followed by removing his lower garments, leaving you with the perfect view of his naked body. God damn— it was so hot and big…

“On your knees, babe,” Jungkook commanded, guiding you to your front with a hand on the hip. “I want to take you from the back,” he expressed, the words sounding so lewd as they came out of his mouth, causing a whimper to leave your mouth as his hand gripped your ass. His chest pressed against your back, as he left kisses on the base of your neck, before tracing his hand along your figure to your ass. He placed a playful slap against it, as your whine made its way to his ears, feeling you press your butt to his crotch. “Getting needy, aren’t we?” he teased, as he delivered another slap.

He’s acting as if he just didn’t eat you out like his life depended on it moments ago, you thought. “Why? Aren't you needy for me too?” you questioned, looking back at him with a pout, giving him the doe eyes. “If you don’t want this, then–” you teased him back, pretending to crawl away, but he didn’t let you as he gripped onto your hip, pulling you against him once more, bringing his face next to yours, over the shoulder. “Hey! You’re not going anywhere,” he groaned into your ear.

His fingers pushed your hair aside from your face, tucking them behind your ear and giving him a clear view of your gorgeous face. “Do you feel that?” he questioned, pressing his erect cock against your pussy, rubbing it against your slit, lubricating with your wetness. “Do you feel how hard it is?” he elaborated, placing a kiss on your jaw. “This is all your fault, you make me like this. You will help me with my problem, right babe?” he asked, giving you a curated pair of puppy eyes, as his lips protruded out, forming a small out pout.

You hum in response, a smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth, feeling the effect that you had on him. He trails a string of kisses along your neck, to your shoulder blade, leaving a soft bit mark against it. He guided his cock to align with your entrance, causing a hiss to leave your mouth at the burn of the stretch. “It's okay, darling. You can take it,” he encouraged, rubbing circles on your back in a soothing motion.

It was a tight fit. You hadn’t had such a stretch before, but it felt good, and full. “Is it better? Should I start moving now?” he asked, once his cock was fully nestled within you. You let out low ‘yes’, as he began to glide inside your walls.

At first the movements were more slow, and passionate, but they soon became more intense, aggressive, and lustfull, as his mind clouded with a hunger for you. But that wasn’t enough, you needed him even deeper than he was, causing you to push back onto his cock as he pounded into you. These movements added to the pleasure for both of you, not shying away from vocalising it, and neither did he, as your voices blended together, echoing through the room.

It became too much to handle, and soon enough you released the built up tension in your stomach. The walls of your pussy contracted around his cock, a low, moan of pleasure leaving his lips, sending him to a bliss, causing him to pull out, as you felt a warm, and moist liquid spray against your lower back.

Your legs give out, as you let your body fall on to the couch, trying to catch your breath after your second orgasm of the day. You felt him lay his body against your back, the sounds of his fastened breaths making their way to your ears. Just the feeling of the pulses of your pussy on his cock that pressed against your clit was so arousing to him that it didn’t take him long to become erect once again.

He pushed his body away from yours, pulling you to your front by your waist, gripping on to your thighs, spreading your legs apart, situating himself between your legs once again. “Round two?” he questioned, with an arch of a brow, while a sly grin played on his lips, causing a small laugh to leave your mouth.

He again aligned himself with your entrance, pushing in more easily, as he began moving into you, this time with a sloppish movement. Your hand drawed up his tattooed arm, gliding your way over his collarbone, and onto his piercing. You rubbed it between your fingers, before giving it a pinch, causing a groan to leave his mouth.

“Sensitive here, aren’t we?” you teased, as he gave you a narrowed look, causing a smirk to appear upon your lips. However, it didn’t remain there for long, as you moaned out in pleasure, as he picked up pace, his movements becoming more intense, fervent, and delightful.

You were getting close, close to your release. The in and out motion of his thrusts, his balls slapping against your skin, his cock grazing against the wet and silky walls of your pussy, his fingers rubbing circles on your clit, all these actions combined to serve you pleasure, sending you into ecstasy. Your body didn’t shy away from vocalising this, as the sound of satisfaction left your mouth ringing through the room, travelling to his ears, making him want to keep on hearing more.

The fingers that were on your clit, now glided up your stomach, the patterning of his cold fingertips sending shivers through your figure, yet your body burned from warmth. A faint, dewy trail of your juices was left behind, fading into the skin as his fingers reached your non-pierced tit. He circled his finger around the nipple, before pinching it and then twisting the bud around, causing a cry due to the arousement leaving your mouth, as your body squirmed to the side, though the grope of his hand on your boob prevented you from moving any further, forcing you to recline back to your original place.

“Relax, Babe,” Jungkook encouraged, rubbing patterns on your stomach, pressing on it gently. “I got you,” he cooed, gazing into your half open, dazy eyes, as he lowered the intensity of his thrusts, earning a whine of disapproval from you. However, he ignored it, and continued to deliver delightfull pressure to your pussy through a slow and passionate gliding motion.

Your hair was scattered on the surface of the couch around your head, while a few strands strayed to your forehead and cheek. Jungkook reached his hand forward and moved the pieces of hair away from your face and tucked them behind your ear. His fingers pursue to trace the side of your face, along your jawline, coming to a stop at the corner of your lips. His fingertip caressed your lips, feeling the soft texture, while the movements of his lower body gradually came to a stop, leaving himself buried inside of you.

A whiny cry left your throat at his tactic for getting what he desired. It was simple: you give him what he wants, and you get what you want. He wanted to kiss you, kiss those juicy lips of yours, feeling the softness against his own, while devouring you whole. You wanted him to please you more, to go harder, to let you have your release, and send you into a bliss. You knew that he wasn't going to fulfil your wish until you let him fulfil his need.

Jungkook rubbed his thumb against your lower lip, while his fingers caressed the sides of your cheek. His thumb came to a rest, as he looked into your eyes with burning intensity, asking permission to carry on with what he was thinking. In a swift motion, you pulled on his arm, bringing his face just inches away from yours. You cupped his face in your hands, fingers stretching to the sides of his neck, while your thumb pressed against his cheeks.

“Jungkook,” you whispered in a seductive tone, meeting his eyes with a craving, your breath fanning his skin, “please, fuck me. Fuck me harder.”

Just as those words left your mouth, Jungkook’s lips were locked with yours in a lustful kiss, tongues tangling together in the moist environment. There was hunger behind the kiss, an aggression to feel one another as close as possible.

Jungkook’s hand travelled to the nape of your neck, grabbing a hold of it and pulling you closer, as if you both weren’t already moulded together. Your arms snaked around his neck, pressing your bodies up to one another, as he began to drive into you once again, but this time with a much greater intensity. His speed continued to increase as you moaned into his mouth. He trailed kissing along your jaw and down your neck, leaving marks he will adore later.

“Mhm, you feel so good,” the words flowed out of your mouth in ecstasy, followed by a sting of moans. “Then cum for me, Darling. Show me how good I am making you feel,” he commanded, moving back to admire your disoriented state, in his eyes you were the most gorgeous being he had ever seen.

Soon enough you came, clenching around his cock, as your insides pulsed against his skin. However, he didn’t stop, he continued to pound your pussy, making loud sounds of pleasure leave your mouth. His eyes travelled down your body, to the place where your bodies connected. A few dribbles of squirt rained out of you due to the overstimulation.

“Fuck, you're so beautiful,” he declared, feeling himself close to his climax. With a few more strokes he pulled out, releasing over your stomach, leaving it a mess in his liquid.

He let his body relax, laying half of his body beside you, while the other half rested against you, as he laid his head on your chests, hugging your body close to him. Your arms wrapped around his shoulder, to feel his warmth around you, while you both regained your breathing. You both remained in this position, feeling a sense of calm in each other's presence, after that exhilarating session.

After a few minutes, Jungkook lifted up his body, his arms straight as he rested his palms on either side of your body, caging you within. He gave you a tender smile, before leaning in to kiss your cheek, whispering a ‘I’ll be right back into your ear. You gave him a lazy smile as he pulled out, getting off the couch, and leaving the room.

A while later, he walked back in, having cleaned himself up of the sticky substances. He made his way to where you were laying, and cleaned you up with a wet towel he had brought, before disposing of it.

“Here, put this on,” he said, while handing you a big white shirt. “Your tank top will rub on your piercing, causing irritation, so wear this to prevent it,” he explained. You already knew this information, that’s why you had carried a loose t-shirt in your bag when making your way here, but you didn’t tell him this and just took the piece of clothing from him.

Jungkook moved to collect his discarded clothes from earlier, as your eyes followed his every movement, while you sat up on the couch. He could feel your stares on him, so he made sure to look extra sexy for you, when putting his clothes back on.

Once finished, he moved back towards you, spreading your thighs apart slightly, before intervening his legs in between them. He gently grabbed the shirt from your hands, which you had done no effort to put on, and helped you wear it himself.

Once the fabric was settled on your body, he placed his arms around your neck, leaning in slightly to look into your eyes with an emotion that you couldn’t quite discern. You both remained in silence, just looking into the depths of each other's eyes, before you decided to speak up.

“So,” you began. “Do you give this special treatment to all your customers?” you teasingly inquired, keenly looking forward to his response.

“No,” he said bluntly, looking you dead in the eye. “It’s only for my future special someone,” he informed, as there was a shine in his eyes as the statement left his mouth.

His words left you confused, and a bit shocked, as you didn’t think he would think of this anything more than a hookup after how fast things progressed today.

“Y/n” he called, breaking you away from thinking further. “I want you. I want something more, and I’m not just saying this to get in bed with you again. I truly mean it. After meeting you at the bar last week, I couldn’t stop thinking about you, and the conversation we shared. I want to have more deep talks like that, in the comfort of our own peace,” he explained, expressing his feeling.

You weren’t going to lie, you also held a similar feeling. After that meeting with him, you couldn’t stop thinking about him and the conversation you had with him. He listened to you, sharing his experiences and intellect along the way. You found a calm in his company, at the most odd place. You felt upset all this week at not having gotten his number, and at the possibility of never meeting him again, but seeing him today when you entered the shop gave you hope. A hope to get to know him better, but where today had led to made you think that your connection wasn’t meant to be something more. However, after hearing him now, a smile grew on your face. You hadn’t been the biggest believer of love at first sight before, now you just might be.

“I don’t want to put any pressure on you, I’m just saying that maybe we could try dating, go on a few dates,” he clarified, shyly averting his eyes from you, the same man that just fucked you with such intensity a while ago. Wow, the duality.

You wrapped your arms around his waist, resting your head on his torso. “Lets try it out” you replied, bringing his attention back to you. “I mean, who would be a fool enough to let go of the opportunity to potentially have such a handsome boyfriend,” you teased, looking up at him with a toothy smile, which he returned with his big bunny smile upon hearing your words.

“Then, since it's already late outside, do you want to get dinner together?” He asked.

“Let’s go,” you replied, giving a genuine smile, as you looked forward to possibilities of what lies ahead.

A/n: hey there! Hehe, I hope you enjoyed this! Your thoughts and feedback are always appreciated

[goldsbitch]

the last time I pick you up

Moving blues hits hard. Y/N and Lando are finally letting go of her old apartment, which brings out strong emotions, that you need to burn out somehow.

warning: smut, no protection

It's been long time coming - finally moving together after countless times of flipping a coin to determine which apartment you and Lando would spend your free hours and sometimes even days.

His place was spacious and the location was obviously the biggest asset. But god, was it close to an empty wasteland. True "lad's" apartment, up to a point you were surprised he had a bed (without a bed frame, of course...). Your place was a true home - decorations, pillows, candles and full stacked skincare. Even though it lacked in size and the plumbing was more than questionable, it had a soul and you'd poured loved into your rented apartment over the time you'd spend there.

However, it was becoming clear that your relationship stable and secure enough to get rid of one side of the logistics equation that was dating a racing driver.

So, moving it was. They say moving is one of the most stressful mundane experience in one's life and you couldn't agree more. You were stripped of the usual duties, because Lando insisted about him paying for premium movers and you didn't object for more than 30 seconds.

But the sentimental "last visit" is something you can't pay someone to do for you. The walk through the memory lane was all up to you.

After few hours you were almost done sorting things out into two piles, one would join you in Lando's apartment, the other one was being left behind for someone else to get over to a charity shop.

When Lando finally came to pick you up, he found you sitting on the floor, knee deep in the cocktail of conflicting emotions.

"Baby? You here?" he called before entering the living room. You looked up at him, weak tears rolling in you eyes, unable to speak at first.

Lando stopped when he saw you, surprised at finding you sitting on the floor like that and then immediately went to sit sit next to you and hug you.

"What's wrong, baby?" he asked, half concerned, half confused.

You tried to surpress the wet drops in your eyes. This was stupid anyway, right? After few moments of Lando's confused look and his hand on your cheek, you finally looked back at him.

"This is the last time you pick me up here," you said in a low tone and it was like you took the lid of your memories.

The first night he spent here, the first one you talked through, unable to stop the conversation, the many nights he fucked you senselessly and hours spent cuddling under the bedsheets.

The way how this apartment provided you a safe space in the first weeks when you dated, hidden safely from the harsh judgy look the public imposed on you so cruelly at the beginning.

You got to know him here. Waited impatiently many times for his key to finally click in the front door, his tired post-race face, often still holding marks from his helmet, because he would jump on the plane the first thing, just get back to you for few hours. You remember how you laughed, when he insisted on installing his weird neck exercise device, because it meant he could spend more time with you. He tried to teach you how to assist him, and then laughed at you, because you were just so naturally bad at this stuff.

You recall the one afternoon when you came back from a meeting and found him sitting in your bathtub, which was filled up with slowly melting ice-cubes. His argument was, that he needed a post work out ice bath and there was nothing like that around where you lived. This time it was you who laughed, when you saw how much ice he had to buy. Lando was a cheeky guy, so once he got out of the ice bath, he chased you around your apartment, naked, with the intention to snuggle you into his cold, icy embrace.

Lando was taken back by the glassy look in your stoic face. "I know. But, if you look at it from a different perspective, this is the last time I pick you up. From now on, we'll be meeting at our home." He spoke slowly, perhaps to make his words more impactful.

You smiled, knowing well enough that was the best part of it. Still, the melancholy lingered in stronger way then you'd have ever expected.

"No more of that weird lady upstairs who always gave me angry looks after I fucked you hard," he tried to lighten up the mood, which worked and you let out a snort laugh while wiping small tears from your cheeks.

"Yeah, I am definitely not going to miss that," you said, yet still there was a sense of leaving a part of your life behind, a part that you would adorn for the rest of your life. The only hope you had that you and Lando would be able to continue on making priceless memories anywhere the two of you were.

"Y/N, I think it's time to finish sorting the stuff out and grab something to eat. We can go that favorite café of yours," he suggested after few moments of silence.

You took a deep breath. "Yes, I'd love that," you turned to him and gave a light peck on his lips. Lando immediately turned that into a deep french kiss, which took you by surprise a little. He was never a words person and you could finally feel from the way how he kissed you so eagerly, that he was also emotional about this move.

"You're the love of my life," you said the signature sentence you two developed naturally, instead of saying a simple I love you.

"And you're mine," he responded with the signature assurance that followed that sentence.

//

The two of you slowly arrived to the point where most of the stuff was sorted, decisions were made and it was time to say goodbye.

A shock of sudden anxiety ran through you. "Lando. I still don't have the necklace." He knew well enough which one you were talking about. It was the first one he ever gave you and one that you held so dearly that it made him proud. But still, in his eyes it was just an object. One that you misplaced and could not find for weeks now.

"It's probably at my apartment anyway," he said, trying to let you go of it. He already had a replacement ordered anyway.

"Let me just check under the bed. Haven't looked there yet," you said and strolled over to the now stripped bed. He watched you, as you bent over in your cute summer dress that casually showed the curve of your ass as you searched under the bed. There was something so primal for him about seeing you like that.

"Y/N, you know this is a very dangerous move from your part, right?" he said, leaning over the door frame and enjoying the view.

"Come on, Lando," you laughed, as you desperately kept looking for the necklace, with no luck whatsoever. "This is serious."

"Oh, I never said anything different," he smirked, letting his thoughts run into one place and one place only.

"Omg, Lando!" you screamed, in a very different tone, alerting him immediately.

"What?" he asked, tuning into your worry. You got up with a horrified face, as if you'd just seen a ghost. Unable to speak, you just stared at him.

"What?" he repeated, less seriously this time. Knowing you, it must have been nothing.

"Oh my god, I am going to get in so much trouble with the landlord!"

He looked at you sheepily. "Do I have to look there myself or are you going to tell me?"

You closed your eyes. "The floor is like severely damaged. We're talking like, deep marks. Under all of the corners of the bed."

It took him a second to get the dots connected before his eyes went wide and the smarted smug appeared on his face. "Really?" he said proudly. You couldn't help but roll your eyes. He sneaked around you and took a quick look under the nearest bed corned.

"Ohoo, nice!," he laughed, even more proud than before. "This is from us, right?"

His smugness was a little contagious, you had to admit it. "Of course, who else Lando. In fact, that's your damage, so you're paying for it!"

He choked, taking few steps towards you. "Oh am I?"

You bit your lip, as he closed of your exit with his right arm, putting on the door frame and pushing you towards it. "Yes, you are...It's from you moving the bed."

The mood changed really quickly. You knew the look in his face well enough. He was shooting arrows, making your heartbeat faster, breath shorter and mind suddenly focused on one thing and one thing only. Having him, all the way in, wrapped around and inside of you. He pulled your chin up with his thumb and subconsciously mirror your lip biting. At this point, you were completely pushed to the door frame, his torso pulling into your. "Well, if I'm already paying for damages, I think I deserve to make it count, one last time," he said and moved his hand over to your chest, causing you to let out a breath out. He knew well enough what kind of an effect he had on you. Few moments of painfully arousing eye contact and you finally put your hands behind his neck and kissed him again. With the energy only young adults have, he twisted his tongue with yours, bit your lip gently and in the meantime picked you up and moved you the short distance over to the bed. Your thoughts were all wrapped up around how great his body felt, how his intoxicated smell completely clouded your mind and how you'll get to have him on this old bed of yours for one last time.

He didn't even bother taking your dress off, he just pushed it up and started working you up with his fingers. This high he gave you was a familiar ground at this point. And most possibly your absolutely most favorite place on this planet. While sharing messy kisses and loosing yourself in the growing pleasure, you went to unbuckle his belt and stroke him slowly. He didn't wait long before he pulled back to take his shorts off and you finally had full access. You stroked him few times, before he pinned your arms above your head. "My bills, my playground," he said and his hands began to roam your body all the way down to the hem of your dress. He didn't even bother taking your underwear off, just pushed it to the side and slid into you, like he had hundreds times before. Flashes of the countless encounters you've had on this bed flashed like a film in your mind. You loved this man. He was the ultimate drug for you. Intoxicating above levels you could have ever imagined. If there ever was a home, if was right there - with him inside you. He pushed slowly few times before finally slamming into you full speed, full force, knowing well enough it was what you craved anyway. Hot breath was only cut with the symphony your soft moans and sounds the squeaky bed made. Lando held your legs pressed up to your stomach, while you hugged your chest, making your tits pushed up for him to kiss occasionally. You reached your high twice before he released himself onto your dress and collapsed next to you. Short of breath, the two of you still kissed. "Sorry for the dress," he said apologetically and you had to laugh a little. For this feeling you'd stain anything you ever owned.

"I know you have a thing for leaving traces behind, baby," you replied, being guilty of using this little kink of his to your advantage many times in the past.

He bit his lip and brushed his nose agains yours. "Guilty as charged."

Your breath was slowly coming back to a regular tempo. "I should get changed before we go," you said, intent on leaving soon.

His hand locked you in as he traced lined on your hips. "Let's stay just a little. I'm going to miss the way how we made this bed squeaky over time," he said, making you smile and blush.

[paddockletters]

style pit stop | max verstappen

pairing: max verstappen x reader summary: Max lets you dress him up for a change, showing off a new look at the paddock author´s note: first story with Max, and you have no idea how much I enjoyed it! I've been wanting to write for him for a while, and well, I loved the result and hope you do too.

It started as a casual comment during breakfast in our hotel room, the sun pouring through the windows, illuminating the crisp white sheets of our bed. Max and I were preparing for the upcoming race weekend, and the atmosphere was light, filled with the excitement that always accompanied a race.

“Max, I swear your entire closet is just Red Bull jackets, white T-shirts, and jeans. Nothing else,” I said, leaning over the table, eyeing his typical outfit of the day.

 “I happen to think I’ve got a classic style. Simple and effective.” Max raised an eyebrow, feigning offense.

 “Simple is an understatement. I mean, even AlphaTauri has given you all this fancy stuff to try, and you just let it sit there. Have you even worn half of it?” I rolled my eyes playfully.

“What am I supposed to do with half of that? Wear it to a race? You’d just laugh.” He shrugged, taking a sip of his coffee

“Of course I’d laugh!” I retorted, grinning. “But I’d also help you look better. Bet you wouldn’t let me dress you for one day, then. Try something different.”

 “Fine. I’ll take your bet. But if anyone laughs, you’re paying for dinner.” Max chuckled, clearly intrigued.

Within minutes, I was rummaging through his suitcase, pulling out the neglected AlphaTauri clothes he claimed were “too much effort” to style. I held up a pristine white button-up and slim-fit black trousers, a sleek gray turtleneck, and a pair of black boots that had clearly never seen the light of day.

“Look at this! You could rock this outfit!” I said, holding the turtleneck against his chest.

Max gave me a skeptical look as he reluctantly pulled it on, but I couldn't help grinning as he finally stood up. The way it hugged his frame was… honestly, distracting.

 “It feels kind of tight.” He turned to the mirror, tugging at the sleeves.

“It’s supposed to fit” I insisted, smirking. “Now, for the trousers.”

Max fumbled a bit with the slim black pants, grumbling as he zipped them up.

“I look like I’m about to go to some fancy dinner” he complained, though I could see he was beginning to enjoy the attention.

“Exactly the point” I replied, holding up the leather boots. “And these. They’ll add a bit of height too.”

He scoffed but slipped them on anyway, taking a few exaggerated steps around the room like he was testing new racing boots.

“Happy now?”

“Very” I replied, snapping a quick photo. “Now let’s get to the paddock before you change your mind.”

The reaction at the paddock was priceless. As soon as we stepped in, Lando spotted us and nearly choked on his coffee, doing a double-take.

“Wait, Max… are you actually dressed up? Did y/n have a part in this?”

“Blame her” Max said, giving me a mock glare.

“Mate, I didn’t even know you owned a turtleneck. You look like you’re about to do a TED Talk.” Lando circled him, taking in the outfit.

“Or go to a very exclusive dinner,” Pierre teased, coming up next to us, flashing me a grin. “Nice work, y/n. About time someone taught him some style.”

 “Alright, you’ve all had your fun. Can we please get back to normal now?” Max rolled his eyes, giving me a helpless look.

“Oh, no way,” I laughed, linking my arm with his. “You’re keeping it on all day. And just think, you’re setting new fashion standards for the grid.”

As we entered the Red Bull hospitality, the reactions came in waves: team members did double takes, fans gasped, and then there was Checo, who took one look at Max and immediately burst into laughter.

“Dios mío, Max! I didn’t even recognize you,” Checo said, giving me a grin. “So, y/n finally got her way?”

“Finally?” I echoed, pretending to be offended. “Please, Checo. It wasn’t even that hard. A little style goes a long way.” 

Christian strolled over, eyebrows raised as he took in Max’s look.

“Well, well, Max, didn’t know you had it in you,” he joked, clapping Max on the back. “AlphaTauri’s sales will skyrocket after today. You could be their new poster boy.”

“Honestly, I think we should get her to dress all the drivers. Just imagine how well AlphaTauri would sell with these outfits!” Checo chimed in, a teasing glint in his eyes.

 “I’ll dress all of you if you want. Just wait until I’m done with Max.” I laughed, joining in the fun.

“You’re all too easily impressed. But maybe y/n should take her fashion skills elsewhere and help Checo. He could use the help.” Max smirked, glancing at me

“Oh no, Max, you’re on your own with this one. Besides, I doubt I could pull off the ‘turtleneck model’ look as well as you.” Checo raised his hands in defence, shaking his head with a laugh.

I snickered, nudging Checo playfully.

“Are you sure? I was thinking I could start dressing you and Max in matching outfits. You know, really take this team bonding to the next level.”

Max chuckled, draping an arm around my shoulders.

“You hear that, Checo? Get ready. Y/N’s got big plans for you, too.”

 “If this turns into some kind of Red Bull makeover challenge, I’m blaming both of you.” Christian couldn’t contain his laughter, shaking his head.

Checo leaned in, stage-whispering to me.

“Just don’t get me in that turtleneck, okay? I have a reputation to keep.”

“Noted” I replied with a wink. “But we’ll see what I can do.”

By the time we reached the main area, I was wearing his oversized Red Bull jacket, practically swimming in it, while he strutted around in his AlphaTauri ensemble.

Fans caught on quickly, cameras flashing as they captured the two of us walking arm in arm, with Max.

“Look, there’s your fan club” I teased, nudging him playfully as we passed a group of fans eagerly pointing their cameras at him.

Max smirked, leaning down to whisper.

“I bet they wish I’d dress like this all the time.”

We reached his garage, and one of the engineers gave him an approving nod.

“You clean up well, Verstappen” he commented, giving me a grin. “And y/n, you’re pulling off the Red Bull look better than he does.”

 “Unbelievable. I get roasted in my own team garage?” Max pretended to be offended.

“You’re the one who agreed to this!” I teased, nudging him as we walked further inside.

He shook his head, pulling me closer. “Just remember this next time you’re insisting I need more ‘style.’ I went through a whole day looking like some model just to prove you wrong.”

“Oh, please” I laughed, leaning into him. “Admit it—you loved it.”

Max grinned, brushing a quick kiss to my temple. “Maybe. But only because I have you to make it fun.”

[wonderjanga]

What do you do?

Bruce has literally no idea about Marvel’s personal life. As a result, the JL have no idea about his personal life. The only thing they know is that they want Marvel to have their jobs. Cause, Marvel already let them rants about whatever they’re passionate about. Once they find out his job, and if he’s maybe passionate about what they’re passionate about, they can yap together!

Supes: *ranting*

Marvel: *listening intently*

Supes: “And, you know, I’m a reporter-”

Marvel: *sounds surprised* Wait, you’re actually a reporter?”

Supes: “Uh… yeah? Did you think I wasn’t? You’ve heard me go on fifteen minute rants just about it.”

Marvel: *shrugs* “I just thought it was something you were really interested in. What company to do you work at?”

Supes: “The Daily Planet?”

Marvel: “Oh, I’ve heard about them!”

This went on to be an hour long conversation of them exchanging tips, talking about which companies can’t be trusted, which reporters are good versus bad, and so on. They probably would’ve gone on longer if some aliens hadn’t tried to invade earth for the millionth time. Even then, after the battle, they continued the conversation back at the Watchtower. Clark was honestly so happy about this entire thing because whenever he talked about reporting to Marvel, he would normally just nod along and ask questions. Instead, this time, the Cheese actually yapped with him instead of patiently listening. Clark was like 50 percent sure Marvel was a reporter now, and he was right. Technically. Billy was a reporter.

Meanwhile, Bruce is hypothesizing that Marvel is a teacher or caretaker of some kind because he’s really good with kids. Most of these kids are, for a lack of a better word, idiots. He is the only hero that’s interacted with them that hasn’t lost his temper yet. A good example of this was when Marvel was obviously having a bad day and Jon came to talk to him since Clark was busy.

Marvel: *nodding along, as he stress bakes, stirring something in a bowl* “That’s nice. Can you go get some flour for me?”

Jon: “Sure!” *runs off to grab a bag of flour and as he comes back he accidentally drops it and gets it all over the floor, now looking guilty* “I’m sorry.”

Marvel: “It’s… fine.” *takes a deep breath and is trying so hard to not lash out him* “It’s fine.” *takes another deep breath and smiles at him* “Jon, you’ve made pies with Mrs. Kent before right?”

Jon: “No, mom doesn’t like making pies. I make them with Grandma though!”

Marvel: “That’s who I meant.” *hands Jon the bowl* “Hold this please?” *walks over and picks up the flour bag, and puts some into the bowl Jon was holding before putting the bag in a sink* “Mix that and pour it into the pan while I go clean this up.” *ruffles his hair*

Jon: “Okay.” *determined to help him make the best pie ever*

Later…

Batman: *walks into the kitchen* “Marvel-” *does a double take when he sees Jon* “Why is Superboy’s entire lower half covered in flour?”

Marvel: “He dropped a bag of flour earlier.” *shrugs as he lets Jon put a bunch of sprinkles on the pie*

He later watched the feed of the kitchen and that’s how the Marvel potentially being a teacher theory came into existence. Of course, this incident wasn’t the only reason, but still.

While all this is happening, Diana thinks he’s has a job in the archeological field because the man seems to love history.

And Billy does. His dad and mom loved it, and at first he only got into it because they liked it, but he realized he actually found it fascinating.

So, here are the options.

1.) Reporter

2.) Teacher/Caretaker

3.) Archeology

They finally asked when they couldn’t take the suspense anymore.

Marvel: “Oh uhm… well, I don’t work often, (doesn’t work often as Marvel, he works quite often as Billy) but every now and then, I help with unloading pallets and stuff.”

That was… not what they expected. After this conversation, Clark not so sneakily snuck Billy his business card for the Planet. Wondy straight up just gave him the card. Batman didn’t know what to do other than reset to his default and actually sneakily snuck like a thousand dollars to Marvel.

[deansbeer]

kari yaps. another dean blurb comin' ur way! 'cause i'm having WAY too much fun with writing 'em !!! originally, when this was sitting in my drafts, it was supposed t'be a full fic, but it wasn't coming out like i wanted it to, so i made it a blurb :p

warning(s) fluffy fluff fluff | implied shower sex | dean 'n his lil camera | reading gettin' a lil emotional. ୨୧

📖 JACKLES library.

DEAN WINCHESTER was never really a 'stuff' guy. his life was all about function over form, about practicality, especially when it came to hunting. but one day, on a whim—or maybe because he'd been thinking about it longer than he wanted to admit—he bought a camera. not just any camera, either, but a $5000, top-of-the-line DSLR that he told himself he'd use to take pictures of all the places he and sam traveled to when they were on hunts. you know, a way to document the life he lived beyond the blood and gore, something to look back on that wasn't just a blur of monster and mayhem.

he didn't tell you about it at first. the camera just kind of appeared one day, tucked inside his duffle, and when you asked him about it, he looked a little embarrassed. "just thought it'd be nice to take some pictures of the scenery," he said with a shrug, like it wasn't a big deal. and maybe to him, it wasn't. at least, not in the way you thought.

but instead of snapping pictures of the rundown motels and backroads they traveled for work, dean found himself using the camera for something else entirely.

it wasn't until the two of you went on a mini-vacation, a week-long stay at a beach resort that you'd been talking about for years, that he really started to use it. you love the beach—always have. there's something about the sound of the waves, the feel of the sand beneath your feet, the salty breeze tangling in your hair, that makes you feel calm. and dean, well, he loves seeing you that way. relaxed, happy, at peace. so while you were busy soaking in the sun, or wading into the water, or just staring off into the distance with that little smile on your face, he was busy capturing it all.

you didn't know, of course. dean was sneaky like that. he didn't make a big show of it, didn't tell you to 'pose' or 'smile.' he just… watched you, quietly, through the lens, snapping photos of you when you weren't paying attention. and when you finally did notice him with the camera, he'd flash you that cocky grin of his and say something like, "just taking pictures of the view."

a few days later, after one of those long, lazy showers you and dean sometimes took together (the kind that weren't just about getting clean, if you know what i mean), that you stumbled upon a little secret of his. he stayed back in the bathroom, washing off a little longer, and you were sitting on the edge of the bed, feeling that post-shower glow, when you noticed a small album tucked underneath a pile of clothes in his black duffle.

curious, you pulled it out, flipping through the pages, and your breath caught in your throat. it wasn't just pictures of random places he'd been on hunts. it was you. photo after photo of you. at the beach, of course, but also in moments you didn't even realize he'd been watching—laughing, lost in thought, maybe even sleeping. and the pictures weren't just good; they were stunning. like, they looked like something out of a magazine, the kind of photos you'd see in a vogue or some fancy travel magazine.

you couldn't believe he'd taken them.

before he could catch you snooping, you quickly put the album back where you found it, heart racing a little, and changed into your pajamas, trying to act like nothing had happened. but the pictures stayed on your mind, even as you and dean curled up in bed and ordered some room service to cap off the night.

after that, you never mentioned it to him. you didn't want to make a big deal out of it, though you kind of wanted to. instead, you found yourself sneaking the camera for your own little adventures. when dean was out or distracted, you'd pull it from his bag and take a few selfies, figuring out how to use the thing. at first, it was a little tricky—those cameras are no joke—but with a little patience, you got the hang of it. you never did anything scandalous, just some cute pictures of yourself, and then you'd put it back in its place before dean could notice it was gone.

and he never did. at least, not until one night in your shared apartment. you were in the kitchen, snacking on some chocolate-covered strawberries dean had picked up on his way home from a hunt (because, in his words, they reminded him of you), and you were nose-deep in a romance novel you'd been dying to read. you heard him walking down the hallway, but you didn't think much of it. you were too wrapped up in your book and your snack, the perfect cozy day in.

what you didn't realize was that dean had found out about your little secret. he'd been going through the camera, checking out some new shots he'd taken, when he stumbled upon your selfies. not just the recent ones, either—he found all of them.

so when he came into the kitchen, camera in hand, he wasn't mad. in fact, he had this look on his face—kind of amused, kind of in awe. "so, you've been stealing my camera, huh?" he asked, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips.

you looked up at him, mouth full of strawberry, and gave him your cheekiest smile. "maybe," you said.

he didn't mind, though. if anything, he seemed impressed that you'd managed to sneak past him without him noticing. but later that same night, as you were getting ready for bed, you noticed something on his bedside table—a second album, smaller than the one you'd found before.

curiosity piqued again, you opened it up, and what you saw made your heart melt. dean had taken all the photos from the other album and added more—your selfies, the pictures he'd taken of you, everything. but this time, he'd decorated the pages with little stickers and captions in his messy, but endearing, handwriting. things like 'my beautiful girl,' 'my little mermaid,' 'my baby going for a swim.'

tears welled up in your eyes as you flipped through the pages, overwhelmed by how sweet and thoughtful it all was.

before you could even process it fully, you felt dean's arms wrap around you from behind, his bare chest warm against your back. you turned around in his embrace, wrapping your arms around his neck and peppering kisses all over his face. "you really did all this for me?" you asked softly.

he nodded, his expression soft and sincere. "yeah, baby. wanted somethin' to remember you by when i'm out on hunts. somethin' special."

he even told you that he kept one of your selfies in his wallet, and that he loved showing it off to anyone who'd listen—sam, other hunters, whoever. "you're my girl," he said, pride in his voice.

and you couldn't help but smile wide, knowing that, no matter where the road took him, DEAN WINCHESTER was always thinking of you.

… his pretty girl.