#and it sorta came back a bit

[fruit-smoothie]

I reached the bottom of yeucc's tumblr, i win

[theresamouseinmyhouse]

tbh i do get a little bothered by the notion that tim took the first shot he had to drop out of school because he hated school and didnt wanna do it and all of that bc i feel like it ignores the probably very important context that he dropped out after his dad (as well as steph-or at least, he was led to believe, in the same week) died, also he was in a school shooting. He did attempt to go to a school in bludhaven but the kids there were so wildly insensitive about the shooting that tim dropped out under the pretense of his "uncle" homeschooling him. In his oyl era, he /did/ go back to school, and it provided him some form of normalcy. Tim was a normal kid, he wasnt crazy about school but he still went to school and it helped him feel like a normal kid, something he desperately clung to. He only dropped out again to do his Brucequest, in an era where he was notably Not Doing Well (which. Yeah. he wasnt doing well bc he was like 17 and almost everyone in his support system was dead, he recently had hits put out on him, got blown up, and backstabbed by his not-dead-ex, he couldnt support his theory that bruce was alive and was extremely stressed about that, and he didnt know wtf he was doing. I love him btw.) Basically tim dropping out of school was a signifier that he wasnt doing well and he was giving up on the normality that he tried to cling to and im a bit of a nitpicky person who gets irked by minor things

[stormsandskies]

Small town William Wisp who knows the entire town and the entire town knows him, so when the little boy who used to run around the small park and through the fields with his friends changes overnight they notice. They notice his skin turn pale, not a typical winter pale that comes from lack of sunlight and being indoors all the time, but the pale that leaves barely a flush to the skin as if his heart isn’t beating like it once was. They notice his lack of energy, how little he goes outside now, they notice his heavy black hoodie even in the southern heat.

At first, they assume he is sick, after all the Wisp parents look stressed and concerned more often than not. It doesn’t help when the school year rolls around and people find out he isn’t going to the school in the town and is instead going to the city

They see absolutely nothing of William after that, but the Wisp parents look beyond stressed constantly watching the news the moment a mention of an attack on Rockfell is made. They understand it must be stressful to know your kid could be out on the street when the attack occurred. Must be scary to think they’re out with friends when some villain and superhero come tumbling through the coffee shop wall. they don’t know the real reason, don’t know they’re watching their youngest son almost die again fighting the villain of the week.

One day after a trip to the city to see their sons the Wisps come back visibly shaken, as though something is wrong, Mrs.Wisp will not stop crying and her husband stands next to her side attempting to help but clearly on the verge of tears as well.

Throughout these two years, strange things had been happening around town, kids reporting they saw strange creatures walking around town, people claiming they saw some sort of glowing blue wisp floating around, and sights of horrific monsters just standing at the edge of the forest surrounding the town.

Then a while after the Wisps leave again and this time they do not come back before their town is ordered to evacuate. People pack up as quickly as possible, as if in a trance.

When they return it’s hard to miss the damage in the area. Despite the work done by the heroes to restore the town blood stains a clearing close by, the sign is scorched, and the body bags, so many line the streets as they work to identify and return the bodies to their families. William looks different, way different to the boy who left. His dark hair is streaked with white, his once brown eyes a shocking blue, a slightly jagged scar runs down the middle of his face and neck, more dot his arms and legs, he seems to float when he moves, and occasionally a small blue wisp will dart around him.

So the town notices and knows that the little boy they knew is changed forever, they also know that he saved the world with the other teens who stand beside him, just as scarred, and they know for certain they hate the so-called heroes who did this to these kids, to the boy who played tag with their kids, to the boy who made sure to say hello to everyone at the church cookout, to his friends that he cares about so deeply.

This small town knew an energetic kid and awkward teenager, now they know a still awkward but more confident almost adult, they knew a 15-year-old who disappeared for two years, now they know a 17-year-old who came back different, they knew William Wisp, now they know The Whisperer.

[wildstar25]

MiqoMarch Day 21 - Lost

[littledreamling]

I love the thought of Hob spending the 90s (1990s, that is) hooking up with every pale emo/goth/punk Dream lookalike he could find to deal with the fact that he got stood up

But consider: after the very first time he had sex with one of those men, all miles of pale skin and dark hair and blue eyes that were just slightly the wrong shade, Hob spends an hour in the shower trying to wash every trace of the encounter from his skin, from his mouth, from his bones. Because he had promised his Stranger that he would wait, even if it was a promise only he had heard. He had promised his Stranger that they were friends and that he didn’t need anything more than his Stranger’s presence. And here he was, seeking out people who look exactly like him, people who are also strangers, but will never be strangers in the way his Stranger is. In some small way, he has pushed for more, if only by association, and he immediately hates himself for it. Hates the way that he knows the name of the man in his bed and wishes he didn’t. Hates the way he can still hear the man’s choked-off gasps as he came down Hob’s throat and his voice wasn’t deep enough, wasn’t otherworldly enough; it was just a man’s voice and nothing more. Hates that the man didn’t call him Hob because Hob isn’t going by Hob this time around. Hates that he’s used an innocent person to project his own selfish and unwanted desires onto. He hates himself for pushing and for looking for distractions and most of all, for wanting

[kheprriverse]

Upcoming Ballad changes 👀?

[that-spider-fan-over-there]

Why don't we talk more about how similar Tenko and Katsuki actually are?

It feels very odd, for me at least, to see Izuku's narrative foils being compared to him, but not to each other. It's so easy to draw their lines, parallels and foils.

Arrogant, childish and unapproachable, with destructive Quirks and a similar hatred of losing the battles they fight. Katsuki's starting line on the same chapter Tenko was introduced. And in a world of various characters with red eyes, they play straight the "Red Eyes, Take Warning" trope.

Look, for the most part, murderous, but one of them was convinced it was what he desired while the other just says that because he couldn't understand his feelings. Indoctrination and Trauma Rationalization vs. Inferiority and Emotional Supression.

The appearance and attitude of bloodthirsty children that covers up their intelligence and strategic leadership abilities.

The keys that brought the Kamino Incident. Making them intrinsically connected as the turning points of Hero Society's starting collapse whether they like it or not.

Neither wanted companionship, wanted to do things their way, alone. Yet both gained friends, and while their goals haven't changed, they don't need to do it alone. Bonus points for befriending a Todoroki when they've started off on the wrong foot.

Tenko, groomed by AFO as a Symbol of Fear. Katsuki, thought by Izuku the Symbol of Victory.

Died, in a physical and spiritual sense. Tenko, physically in 269, spiritually in 238. Katsuki, spiritually in 285, physically in 362. And still, were reborn in defiance of AFO's will.

Tenko unknowingly had expectations for his future from the moment the idea of conceiving him was planted, and was never taught he could be something other than destructive. Katsuki would have support for anything he wanted, yet pushed himself to be perfect. Because otherwise, what was the point?

Speaking of, AFO is their villain. Tenko, who destroyed the original vestige so he could fight Izuku himself, while Katsuki destroyed his physical body in an act of heroism because Izuku couldn't. And despite being taken out for the time being, their role isn't finished yet.

A villain confronts their convictions, their "roles in the story". Calls out their "childish, incomplete" desires. It causes in them a realization, destroys a mental block they didn't know they had, making them more powerful in the process. And for further points, their hands are broken in the process.

Somehow, both are connected to One For All, present in the vestige world. Both could even be considered a "Tenth OFA user", depending on your point of view. Izuku did sacrifice his dreams and gave the Quirk to them, after all.

A hero with the arrogance of a villain, minor antagonist growing to be the protagonist's confidant; vs. a villain with heroic lineage and instincts, a major antagonist who's the hero of his own story.

Tenko hates the role All Might perpetuated in society because of what it means, when no hero helped him. Katsuki, even with the flaws Toshinori shows, remains a fan of All Might to the point he actively decided to honor him with his hero alias.

Tenko was said by Re-Destro he was on the process of a Quirk Awakening, a liberation of sorts. Katsuki, post awakening and revival, was on the process of learning something new about his Quirk that was very similar to Izuku's.

And to top it off, both of them could easily kill a person with their touches, their Quirks. Their hands, seemingly, easily, made for destruction. And Izuku would still reach for them anyways.

This post was brought to you by: someone who would find very funny if post canon Tenko and Katsuki got along with Izuku but hated each other's guts (like someone who hates his younger sibling's boyfriend) + me being annoyed at the discourse surrounding the OP/ED lyrics and who "Izuku" is referring to + me wanting to see AFO's ass getting kicked by the three of them.

Thank you for reading!

[rearranging-deck-chairs]

babe you gotta do something abt the big wet kitten eyes. youre aiming for menacing with the words i get that but it just doesnt quite have the effect youre going for with the big wet kitten eyes

[aria0fgold]

There's this new trend happening in the former bird app where people show how long it'd take for a character to apologize by drawing the head and a line connecting to an apology at the end. And honestly, I'm not good at keeping up with trends but this one is fairly easy to do so!

Good timing too cuz I've been thinking bout the scenario of Alec and Ray arguing so I took this chance to do my own spin on the trend!

Also this is what Ray said for easy reading (and for better viewing cuz it's pretty hard to do bold and italic on a single word in ibis):

"Can't you be a little selfish for once?! Can't you at least just THINK ABOUT THE PEOPLE THAT CARES ABOUT YOU?! Think about your parents! Think about your siblings! THINK ABOUT ME! IT! HURTS! Every single time you go to who knows where, it hurts! My chest tightens so much and my mind is filled with so much worry at whatever the FUCK you're doing and I don't! I don't even know where you are, WHAT YOU'RE DOING!

And the thought of opening that damn door to someone telling me you're in critical condition or worst yet-- dead-- HURTS! SO MUCH!"

[mariathechosen1]

I love it when you play so much DnD that your character choices sorta come full circle:

In your first ever game you might start out as a human fighter, or an elven rogue, or maybe just a half-elf wizard, and then you slowly progress to warlocks and artificers, homebrew perhaps??

But then at some point…you just sorta return to the basic???

For example: I had a moment after a one shot (one that several different groups had all played through separately) where a member of a different group, who had played DnD a year or two, had asked me, who at that point had played for about 5 years, what character I was playing.

I, of course, started ranting about what role in the party I wanted to explore and how I felt the role of ‘maternal’ and ‘the moral one’ was so often associated with being dull when in fact there’s so much unexplored potential in it, and how I wanted to challenge myself by being a character who truly wears their heart on their sleeve and-

Then he asked “ok, but what class and race are you tho?” “………….human fighter” “Ah. There’s no shame in being a bit basic I guess”

[thecherrygod]

Swap au Kim gets drunk and there's a sweet spot in which he's having the time of his life and manages to forget all that's fucked up in his existence just going with the flow and everyone besides him no matter who they are and how the treat him, but less drunk than that and he'll get sober too soon and everythings gonna hit him all at once making him feel twice as miserable, or he'll get even more drunk to the point it completely switches and the happiness and getting along with whoevers nearby morphs into over trusting and sad and as soon as someone is like "look man you're not fine you should go home" he takes it too personal and won't be against getting into fights

[thefunniestguy]

Th . The fuckingm............. difference between "Betty" and "Magic Woman" ...............................

[val-made-a-mistake]

❝PUSHING THE LIMITS.❞

(not my gif)

summary: eddie might fuck you good, but venom pushes your limits.

warnings: SMUT SMUT SMUT, nasty ass smut, surprised-myself-while-writing-it kind of smut, sorta dubcon towards the end, oral sex f and m receiving, sticky tendrils and tentacles and appendages and such, bondage using v's tendrils, hair pulling, spanking, double penetration, eddie spitting in reader's mouth, eddie slaps reader's cheek a lil bit in the beginning, overstimulation central, names like "good girl", "sweet angel", "sweet girl", "beautiful girl"... don't wanna hype myself up too much, but i think y'all are gonna be eating good while reading this one. monsterfucking. i am definitely not getting into heaven, so make my sacrifice worth it and grab some popcorn!

word count: 2k

a/n: if you've ever wanted me to write a sequel for fics like "take the reins" and "don't pretend", this is for you. i can't believe this is my official return to fic writing LMAO, but we're pretending like i never left! (yes i know i posted my last fic in april.) i hope you enjoy, please give me some feedback for this one!

//////

“Gooooood fuckin’ girl.”

You struggled to hide your wince as Eddie harshly slapped your cheek again: you were on your knees, your face raised to look at him as he knelt over you, directing your face in whatever way he wanted it to go. Some parts sweet, some parts rough - whether it was pulling your hair until your cunt twinged with need, or spitting in your mouth when it got too dry for him to fuck, or how fucking good his cock felt when it was shoved into your mouth, you took all of it enthusiastically. 

You hadn’t heard Venom’s commentary in a while, but at least Eddie seemed to be enjoying himself.

“That’s great, honey,” Eddie gasped as he slipped the tip of his cock in your mouth again: you sucked on it dutifully, slathering your spit over his already glistening length, but throughout all of it, your eyes were locked on his face.

He was almost out of breath just from watching you. “Jeez, that’s fuckin’ nasty…”

Overachieving, you responded by taking his whole length into your mouth until the tip of his cock slammed into your uvula and you were forced to gag.

You meant to stay there, but Eddie’s hand was buried in your hair very suddenly, tugging you backward: he evidently hadn’t been expecting that.

“Easy, honey,” he told you. “It’s not every day I got a girl jumping all over me, y’know.”

You sat back on the bed and stuck out your tongue for him, grinning widely. “Sorry.”

Inside his head, Venom scoffed.

PUSSY.

“N-no, don’t be sorry for anything,” Eddie managed to say to you as he allowed his cock into your mouth again, determined to keep Venom at bay inside his thoughts. “Feels so fucking good, just like that…”

Sucking him off until he came had to be the plan, you figured, so you kept going, keeping your tongue flat along his length as he fucked your mouth. His cock was so goddamn thick, and your tongue kept brushing along a prominent vein as you went. The best part was his hand, firm in your hair, ensuring he was using you in whatever way he wanted.

Meanwhile, Venom’s voice was a reassuring purr in Eddie’s ear.

SHE LOOKS SO GOOD LIKE THIS, EDDIE.

So it came as a bit of a surprise when Eddie decided he wanted to move: he was off of you in an instant, but he was grabbing your leg, indicating he wanted you to move with him.

His voice was soft, almost sweet, keeping you wet. “Up, honey, c’mon.”

Breathless, your heart pounding now that there wasn’t a hand in your hair anymore, you got off your knees and, following his direction, rolled over on the bed.

“Shit,” Eddie commented appreciatively, just before he spanked you harshly. “Pop that up for me, honey.”

Grinning sheepishly, you buried your face in the pillow and lifted your stinging ass in the air for him.

“Fuck,” he gasped as the palm of his hand brushed over your pussy - yeah, you already knew you were dripping, and the humiliation of it made you flush. “You always get this wet just having a dick in your mouth?”

“It’s just you,” you mumbled weakly, which earned your another spank.

“Just me, huh?” Eddie replied, mockingly, making your face burn. “Not V? You’re telling me this pretty pussy’s dripping just because of me?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but he’d spanked you directly on your pussy this time, making you moan weakly.

“Fuck,” you gasped, burying your face in the pillows. You had a feeling that Venom would’ve teased you endlessly if you moaned for him, and you weren’t sure if you could handle it when your pussy was already this wet, but God, you’d never been more tempted.

Inside his head, Venom was sounding impressed, but he hadn’t revealed himself yet.

KEEP GOING, EDDIE. YOU WILL BREAK HER.

Keeping your head in the pillow, you spread your legs wider for him, trying to expose as much of your pussy as you could. Spurred on by Venom’s praise, Eddie grinned.

“Fucking glistening,” he laughed, running a finger delicately along your drenched pussy, sending sensitive nerves haywire. “What a pussy. I mean, Jesus…”

He leaned forward to press a gentle kiss to your damp inner thigh, and that simple, two-second touch had your mind speeding out of control with obscenities. No doubt about it, spreading your holes like this turned you on: you could feel your slick running down your inner thighs, and if your brain wasn’t jammed, you would’ve been begging for Eddie for Venom to come out, to finally fuck you.

Breathless with anticipation, you grabbed a fistful of pillows instead and waited patiently, keeping still.

Inside his head, Venom was chomping at the bit, too.

WHEN WILL YOU LET ME OUT, EDDIE?

Just give me a few more minutes, Eddie’s thoughts responded, a bit urgently.

He opted to pretend as though nothing had happened, keeping his control over you.

“Spread your legs more, baby. I want to see how turned on I made you.”

Moaning weakly, you did as he said, spreading your legs to reveal your glistening wet mess of a pussy: you had yet to touch yourself, or do anything to stop the spread of heat in your most sensitive spot, but you felt like if he didn’t touch you soon, you were going to go into cardiac arrest.

You closed your eyes and listen to him move closer.

Eddie’s hands were warm around your thighs, and you could feel him kiss both of your inner thighs - dear god, he’s about to kill you - before he kissed your clit, enveloping it with warmth. 

Everywhere. Oh God.

You gasped weakly. “Oh, Eddie…”

Again, Venom’s voice was a reassuring purr in Eddie’s ear.

YOU ARE UNRAVELLING HER, EDDIE. KEEP GOING.

“That feel good?” he whispered, kissing you softly again.

Well, fucking obviously: you were clutching the pillows above you with all your might, doing your best not to squirm in pleasure. “Eddie, please…”

You were so fucked out you couldn’t finish that sentence, but Eddie knew what it meant, and Venom did too.

LET ME OUT, EDDIE. YOU KNOW SHE WANTS IT.

“You need V, honey?” Eddie whispered from between your legs: he sensed from the growing warmth in his abdomen that he wouldn’t have control over his body for much longer, so he was determined to savour it for as long as he could.

You nodded weakly, flushed with pleasure - Eddie’s tongue may have been a natural, non-monstrous length, but it was pressed to your clit nonetheless, and it would’ve made anybody come after long enough. “Give him to me.”

That did it: Venom came out with a flourish, enveloping Eddie’s body entirely in black goo until he wasn’t Eddie anymore, but tendrilled and sticky and terrifying and one hundred percent Venom.

You almost came at the sight of him. “Oh, V…”

Venom’s tongue protruded from his mouth, licking clean his impressive row of fangs. His milky white eyes might’ve caused others to cower, but you stared directly into them, breathless. It was fascinating, really, how quickly Eddie had disappeared.

Venom’s voice was a deep purr, deeper than anything you’d ever heard.

DID YOU MISS ME, SWEET ANGEL?

“I did, V,” you gasped as a glittering black tendril snuck up your leg, “God, I - I want you so bad.”

Venom cocked his head to the side, watching you intently, like a predator watching its prey.

I TELL EDDIE THAT ALL THE TIME.

You gasped as the appendage finally breached your cunt, pulsating and sticky, giving you exactly the feeling of fullness you wanted. “Oh, Venom…”

The pillow you were clinging onto was gone in a second, replaced by two tendrils pinning your arms onto the bed. Before you knew it, two other tentacles were wrapping around your ankles, fully restricting your ability to move, and there you were, trapped on the bed as Venom was leering above you, his cock sliding in and out of you.

His pace was relatively slow, but you soaked up every pulsing inch succeeded inside of you, and every now and again, he’d make the tendril twist, bringing you closer to the edge every time.

I DON’T EVER THINK I’VE SEEN YOU THIS WET, SWEET ANGEL.

I don’t think I’ve ever been this wet, your thoughts responded incredulously, but all that came out was a choked, “Ngh!”

You were coming, you knew it, and it still hit you like a fucking freight train: the orgasm rushed through you as blood thundered to your brain, euphoria crashing over you at maximum intensity. Everything welling up inside of you just burst, and nothing had ever been so lovely.

You went deaf for a moment as the only thing you could hear was your heart absolutely pounding and the shrill ringing in your ears, but you knew you were gasping for breath, completely overtaken by this orgasm. You’d never tell Eddie, but it was Venom who knew how to pull orgasms from you like this, and only Venom, his glittering black cock absolutely destroying you from the inside out.

Of course, it was then Venom suddenly decided to slam his cock into you at full force, overstimulating you beautifully.

The confidence in his voice never wavered.

I KNOW YOU CAN TAKE IT, BEAUTIFUL GIRL. I HAVE SEEN YOU TAKE IT.

“Oh, Venom,” you were gasping over and over, but you couldn’t fully hear yourself over the ringing in your ears and the sounds of Venom’s glittering black tendril sliding in and out of your drenched, abused pussy, filling you up to the maximum. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

He did the pulsating, twisting thing inside of you once again, and your eyes nearly rolled back into your head: when he was pinning you down like this, you had nothing to hold onto, it was just you, the cock inside of you, and the threat of this monstrous creature swallowing you whole. “Oh my god, Venom!”

HOW DO YOU FEEL ABOUT EDDIE SEEING THIS, SWEET GIRL?

“Oh, fuck, Venom…” you moaned from underneath him, incoherent now as his cock pistoned in and out of you. You were blathering, but the message was clear: don’t fucking stop!

Venom was smug, now.

HOW DO YOU FEEL KNOWING I CAN TAKE YOU BETTER THAN EDDIE EVER COULD?

“You’re better than Eddie,” you mumbled incoherently as Venom ramped up speed, “Loads better than Eddie, I just - oh fuck - holy shit, V, keep going!”

WILL YOU COME FOR ME, SWEET ANGEL?

Yes, I will, your thoughts responded immediately, but actions spoke louder than words: your second orgasm ripped through you as your legs shook, you were pushed to the point of insanity. This one really took you by surprise compared to the first, but you revelled in it, your vision flashing with white as Venom fucked into you. You could feel your body sinking into the bed despite the restraints, spent, and you almost thought it was over, but–

Venom, of course, didn’t care.

COME FOR ME AGAIN, BEAUTIFUL GIRL.

“V,” you whispered weakly, your entire body damp with sweat from your last orgasm, “I - I don’t think I can, I just came.”

Above you, Venom absolutely snarled, and his tongue slithered down to force your legs even further apart.

WHEN I SAY COME, YOU COME!

A second, bigger tendril sank into your ass this time, and you gasped: you were filled, completely and utterly filled, and God, you’d be lying if it didn’t feel so fucking wonderful.

“I - I’m gonna come,” you blathered, blinking hard as the realization set in: you were about to come faster than you’d ever come in your life. “I - I’m gonna come, V, holy - oh my god-”

The words I’m coming were lost in your throat, but it didn’t matter: in a matter of seconds, you’d came for a third time, and the euphoria this time around was still there, yet with a bitter and harsh edge. Your body was exhausted, but your pussy was drenched, and all Venom knew was to keep fucking going, so–

You were gasping, half-deaf with your vision flashing with white, trying to make peace with the reality that Venom was going to fuck you until you passed out.

[arolesbianism]

I <3 stealing star themes from the bands that have them and giving them to another one in my unit swap aus (apparently, cause I did it twice)

[theresascove]

you at the edge of the bed, you about to fall off ₊ ⊹

loser!ellie williams x f!reader

your slow, awkward first kiss together turns into a little make out session

tw: not proofread, fluff, little bit of plot, college!au, nerdy/loser!ellie, popular/dancer!reader, r has an impulsive personality, quick makeout session, mention of grinding, kissing, confessions sorta, friends to lovers, r is mentioned to be drunk at a party

wc ✎ 1.2k

There’s that saying that opposites attract, and it partially describes you and Ellie. Going off of surface looks, absolutely you’re the completely opposite from each other. She’s got the nerdy title—glasses, nose stuck in something space related, keeping to herself. Meanwhile you’ve got the preppy title—on the dance team, outgoing, and known to be friends with everyone (you know what’s going on at all times).

You were aware of Ellie’s presence, but mainly her name. You rarely see her save for a class since the both of you share the same major. So on a surface level, you seem different—but on a deeper level? You’re very alike.

You had been paired with her for a class group assignment. Noticing how others were keeping silent, you pronounced yourself and led the assignment. That’s initially how you got her number.

Then it spiraled like a falling snowball. One thing led to another and you were spending any free time you had with her. Compared to you, her schedule was more flexible. Without a sport or a large social status, she had most of her day free—used up for studying or relaxing. She had a few friends, but it was lowered to stay between these two people. Then you joined the friend group.

It was unlikely to see the two of you together. You definitely knew people were talking seeing how the others on your dance team looked at the both of you around campus. You shrugged it off as a friend, but as the time went by—you knew it was more.

All your free time you had was spent with her, you even started to carve out moments to see her—even if it was just a minute long. You longed to see her, feeling your heart skip a beat in excitement when you saw her. You were aware, but also unaware of the way your heart chased after her—desired her.

It was late at night, drunk at a party when you came to realize you liked Ellie Williams. How? You thought some stranger was her, and your reaction elicited a very different reaction from you. Being so drunk you spilled your mind—stating your thoughts out loud when you saw this fake Ellie. By doing so the subconscious thoughts came forward and you had a breakdown.

You liked Ellie Williams.

You tried to call her but she ended it quickly, stating she was in a study group. Luckily your friend Annaka took your phone from you and tsked, saving you from drunk confessing to her.

The next day you felt like a fool, waking up in your bed sober with the realization. It might be one sided, but you only live once—why not just break it off and say it now. So you made the insane choice to go over and visit her, wanting to try and see your relationship from a different point of view. Could she be interested too? And you’ve been oblivious this whole time?

In your dance coverup uniform, you pulled the collar over your mouth—walking across the street while fighting the blistering cold air. Her dorm wasn’t far, just a few blocks from yours. She opened the door, eye bags under her eyes likely from studying so much for the upcoming exam.

“Hi?”

“Ellie,” you beamed as best as you could with a hangover lingering, “hi.”

She moves back so you could slide past her and into her bedroom. You noticed the other bed laid empty.

“Roommates gone?”

“Yeah, she’s back home for the weekend.”

You hum in response, feeling nervous now when you realize it could be a perfect day to tell her how you feel. She sat crisscrossed on her bed, head resting on her hand as she reads over her notes.

“Are you ever going to study for the exam?”

You lean over the end of her bed, eyeing her, “aww, so sweet, you worry about me.”

She grows a tad shy, tapping her pencil, “no, I don’t.”

“Mm, sure. I haven’t studied yet, but I’ll just start studying tomorrow. We have time still.”

She signs, flipping the page, “you say that and then get a C every time, just come sit up here. I’ll help.”

You hop up quick, hands reaching to pull yourself up. You make yourself comfortable, which means you sat towards the end of the bed with your knees hiked up under your chin as you listen to her. She asks questions, voice soft like a whisper. It lulls you, causing you to stare at her with a look that takes Ellie back when she catches it.

“Why’re you sitting so far back, come—“

“Ellie,” you call out, voice no louder than a whisper as well. She hums, sitting entirely too still as her eyes flicker across your face. Her warm desk light highlights the color in her eyes, the way her freckles move around her face, her lips—

It’s not entirely how you imagined, but you find yourself moving closer. Hands crawling on her soft sheets as you lean just ever so slightly, eyes moving towards her lips. She’s not moving much save for the last second.

“Can I kiss y—“

She cuts you off, moving quick to kiss your lips curtly. Immediately after she coughs, cheeks pink as she tries to go back to her homework—but you’re reaching over to cup her jaw and bring her back towards you.

“Of course,” you whisper your response, eyes searching for confirmation before she leans back down to kiss you again—this time, it’s a real one. Neither of you are pulling back far enough, between each kiss you’re already moving back to kiss again. Her hand falls on your thigh and you’re already moving to straddle her thighs, arms wrapping around her neck as she leans you back onto her desk almost.

You hum against her lips, hands curling into her hair as she brings her lips back on yours again and again and again. It turns your lips red, almost swollen, and glossy. Her hair, once laid out straight—now looks a bit like she just woke up with how you’re pulling on it.

Soft hums and giggles molded into moans and gasps quickly. Ellie would kiss down your neck, behind your ear, across your cheek—you would pulling her back to kiss her deep, mouth at her jaw, bite her ear.

You’re both thankful that she keeps her bed on the lowest mount, because she’s easily able to manipulate you to lay back down on it. Here she stands on the edge of the bed, body slotted between your thighs. The whine you let out when she grinds her jeans into your heat was sinful, and it pulled Ellie out of her trance. The sound got her dizzy, disoriented almost. You were an angel beneath her, hand brushing at her cheek as you smile up at her.

You laugh softly, fixing the glasses on her face, “are we dating?”

“Yeah, y-yeah,” she replies, eyes blinking rapidly, “fuck yeah.”

[parfaitblogs]

risk ❀ s. reid x reader

in which you have the sweetest regular, and it’s probably too soon to tell him you love him!

pairing: spencer reid x barista!reader genre: fluff tags: s1 spencer. who rambles. biblically accurate career!reader sorry if some of the coffee talk makes no sense to you. reader makes all the first moves. y'all kiss (aww). written in timeskip sorta it's not crazy (like maybe a month). not proofread sorryyy (im not). word count: 2.2k a/n: first instalment of my spencer reid eras tour🙂‍↕️ season 1 spencer reid i freaking adore you. he's so cute. gif!! i thought gifs in this series could be cute lol. envisioned 1x10 spencer bc of his nightmares if that means anything. enjoyyy ily im off to work 🏃 

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There are many reasons you come to work each morning. The money (an obvious one), your coworkers who usually make each day a little bit more bearable. And Spencer. A regular who had become a little notorious for having an odd coffee order, that most of the store workers hated making. 

Except for you. 

It wasn't especially odd. But in a store that thrived on making the perfect cup of coffee, sometimes it meant remaking it three or four times because the shots didn't pour at the right amount of time, and recalibrating the machine was a hassle you all didn't want to deal with in the middle of the morning rush he usually came during. 

You had taken note of him the first few times he came in — always keeping to himself, flashing the most awkward smile you think you've ever seen on a human being, and ordering his old order (a large latte with as much sugar as you could fit in the cup). It was by the seventh time that had you thinking of him a little more often than just while you were at work. 

He looked a lot more exhausted than usual. His usually tame hair now loose and hanging over his face as he took a weary step towards the counter, fingers brushing strands away and tucking them behind his ears. 

"The latte, right?" you had asked him, and he had frozen, and you stood in fear of this not being the Spencer you thought he was, and you had just asked a total stranger about a coffee they've never ordered. 

But then he let out a nervous laugh, shaking his head. "Uh, no. Not today. Um—do you guys have a limit on how much coffee I can have?"

Your eyebrows furrowed. "No... we don't. I wouldn't recommend any more than like five shots in our largest size, though. It'd probably taste gross. But we can add as much as you need."

"Five's good. Yeah," he nodded his head, fingers wrapped tightly around the leather strap of his messenger bag. 

"Just... a five shot latte?" you clarified, and he froze again, shaking his head once more. 

"Do you recommend anything else? I—uh, I want it to be sweet enough still."

"I can do you a mocha?" you offered. "White chocolate mocha if you're looking for it to be even sweeter."

"I'll try that," he nodded his head, and out came his awkward smile, which had you smiling back just as awkwardly. 

Which was how he got to his current usual. It honestly became a test to ensure your coffee machines were actually running well, considering pulling five well-done espresso shots at once was no easy feat. And, again, most of your coworkers hated making his drink. 

Which was why it was palmed off to you. Every single morning without fail. And maybe in another universe you would join them in the hatred for this man's frustrating drink order. But then, in that universe, you wouldn't get to talk to him every morning (and slowly break him out of whatever shell he had locked himself up in). 

"I never asked," you began, staring at him over the top of the coffee machine while putting white chocolate fudge into the bottom of the cup. "Why did you change your order randomly?"

He parted his lips and his eyebrows creased together for a few seconds, as if he was deciding whether or not to tell you. You were kind of grateful he concluded on trusting you. 

"I wasn't really sleeping. When I asked about changing my order," he explained, hands letting go of the bag strap so he could talk with them. "Then I guess I just liked the taste of it? And it kept me awake. Which is a bonus."

"I can imagine it would," you nodded your head in agreement, flashing him a small smile, which he returned, bashfully. "Why weren't you sleeping?"

He went silent, and you almost cursed yourself for asking. Maybe you had gone too far. It was why, when you had begun to busy yourself with making his drink a little faster, you jumped when he spoke up again.

"I was getting these nightmares," he said, and your head lifted from the milk you were steaming. "Because of what I do for work."

"Law, right?" you asked, and he let out a small laugh, tucking hair behind his ear. 

"Sort of. I'm with the FBI."

"Oh, that's right," you replied, nodding your head in recognition. He had said that to you at some point in the earlier days when he first started coming in, because you had asked where he works so close by to be coming in as often as he did. "Can you tell me what part? Or is that confidential?"

"No, no, I can. I'm with the Behavioural Analysis Unit," when your face twisted into confusion, he added, "We use psychology to analyse serial killers and catch them. Well, not just serial killers, actually. But that's what we focus on."

"And it works?" you asked, eyebrows rising as you placed a lid atop his coffee, sliding it out on the pick-up section where he was standing by. His face fell slightly, and so you were quick to add, "Not—I didn't mean it like that. I just mean I'm shocked. That psychology is all you really need to catch a serial killer."

"It's not all we need. There's a lot of other elements that go into finding one. But our primary focus is how their brain works and we use behavioural science to figure that out. Actually, we used to be called the Behavioural Science Unit when it was first created."

He was too busy talking animatedly with his hands for him to have picked up his coffee, and you were too busy watching him with a smile to remind him it was ready. 

When he did reach for it, you could feel the familiar pang of disappointment that had started shooting through you every time he was picking up his coffee and leaving. A weird sensation that left you clawing at the walls of your brain to come up with something to say to keep him there. 

It was probably why you blurted out, "Are you seeing anyone?" Which was followed by stunned silence from him, and regretful silence from yourself. What a question. 

Slowly, he began to shake his head, his lips twitching into a confused frown. "No. I'm—I'm not." 

It shocked you a little. He wasn't jaw dropping, per se. But he was attractive. You had said it a few times to your coworkers whenever they asked why you talked to him so much — there was a running joke that you were already secretly dating him behind their backs. Not funny.

"I was just wondering if you wanted to..." you hesitated. "Go out for dinner? Maybe? I'm so sorry if I'm totally overstepping. In fact, I encourage you to say no, because this is a little weird. I'm so sorry," you rambled when you were met with only silence from him, wondering if you had weirded him out of the ability to talk. 

"With me?" he pushed out, his voice a little higher pitched than usual, and you nodded your head, because maybe he wasn't weirded out. Maybe you had just flustered him. You hoped so, at least.

"Yeah," you said. "Is that weird? Or is it okay? To ask that?"

"It's okay. Yeah. Yes. I would love—like to. I mean, that would be nice. Yeah," he stammered, and you smiled. 

"Here," you held your hand out and gestured for his coffee, taking it back and picking up a Sharpie to write your number atop the lid, before you slid it back to him. "I get off work at one. Call me?"

"I will," he nodded, eyes fixated on the number for a few seconds more, before he returned his eyes to you. "I will. Um—bye!" he took a step back, and you let out a loud laugh when he stumbled into a chair behind him. 

He was sheepish as he waved to you, bidding you another goodbye, the sound of the bell above the door ringing once, and then again when it fell shut. 

And you had, somehow, secured a date with Spencer.

Which turned into two dates. Then three. And then, with some weird stroke of luck and twist of fate, you were spending every evening you could at his apartment, and him at yours. 

But you were yet to kiss. 

Not by any particular reason. Really, nothing either of you did ever really called for a kiss. Which was as frustrating as it was understandable. Frustrating, because you felt like you were simply friends, who sometimes went out for dinner, and had feelings for each other. But he had told you very early on he'd never been with anyone before, let alone ever been on a date. Hence; understandable. 

But frustration was more overwhelming than you had thought, because you were on his couch, blanket draped over both of your bodies, as he read you a book — The Chameleon. A short story by Anton Chekhov (an author whom you were only barely familiar with). And yet, all you could think about was kissing him. 

In your defence, he was very kissable, as you stared at his lips while he spoke, your heart stuttering quite uncomfortably in your chest. You weren't sure what it was precisely about him that made him like that. Maybe it was the natural pout of his lips, or how they twitched in humour at the little jokes Chekhov had written into the book that only made sense in Russian, despite him attempting to translate it for you. 

Whatever it was, it was overriding your senses, and in true Spencer fashion, he hadn't noticed you weren't intently listening to his reading until he glanced down to catch a reaction to something he said. You caught as he closed the book and placed it off to the side, jostling you from your haze. 

"You don't like the book, do you?" he asked, and you were quick to shake your head. 

"No, I do," which was true. The parts you were actively listening to you enjoyed. "Sorry, I'm distracted."

"By what?" he shifted on the couch to face you.

You fell silent at that, the answer hanging on the tip of your tongue, unsure whether or not saying it could ruin things. You didn't think it would. "You."

"I'm distracting?" he asked, eyebrows creasing together and a confused frown pulling his lips down. 

Which confused you. "Yes?"

"I don't think I'm meant to be sorry for that," he said. "But I am."

"You shouldn't be," you breathed out with a small laugh. 

"Right," he nodded his head, laughing too, awkwardly. "How am I distracting?"

You studied his face for a few moments, which ended up being a pathetic excuse for a lip study, because you were fixated on them again, and you decided Spencer probably didn't even realise that that was what you were doing. 

"We haven't kissed yet," you told him, instead. 

"No. We haven't," he agreed. 

"Do you just not want to kiss me?" you asked.

He did that thing he does when he's thinking — furrowed eyebrows and parted lips, eyes blinking a few times, before he comes up with his response. 

"I just don't want you to be disappointed. I've never kissed anyone before."

"I concluded that," you answered. "I won't be disappointed."

"You might be," he mumbled, and his gaze averted from your own, which had another smile stretching across your lips. 

"Only one way to find out, right?"

He hesitated before nodding his head, lifting his eyes back up to look at you. It was then that you learned that, like everything else, you might have to make the first move on him. Again.

The thought made you laugh, and though he wanted to, he didn't get a chance to question why you were laughing, because your hands were on his face and you were pulling him into you, lips meeting his in a gentle kiss that elicited a surprised squeak from him. 

"You've gotta kiss me back," you murmured against his lips, and his response was a quiet 'oh'. 

But he was a fast learner, because soon after he was. Objectively, it wasn't the best kiss you've ever had in your life. But it got better by the second, and he was doing enough to make your heart stutter in your chest, his hands reaching up to cup your own face, palms and fingers covering the mass of your cheeks. 

His hands there provided him the ability to keep you there, and you had to pry them off your face so you were able to pull back for air, breaths coming out in short pants. Only for a short second, because he was chasing your lips again, and you laughed, before letting him kiss you again. And again. And again. 

Until both of you were out of air, and he was glassy-eyed and pink-lipped. Though, you were probably his mirror image of that.

And he smiled at you, crookedly. And you wondered if it was too soon to say you loved him. 

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