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vampzity · 15 hours ago

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Hi I have a request it's ok if you don't do it but I was wondering if you could do a blurb of how the skz members react to you feeling insecure about your body a slight chubby reader idk why these fics make me feel so ahhhh comfortable

skz members reacting to your insecurities

pairing: ot8 stray kids x chubby! reader

word count: 2.1k

💌: this was such a cute ask! as a curvy girl myself this truly gave me some good comfort 🥹 & creds to my pookie @lov3yv4mps for helping me with some of these ideas hehe ^^

bangchan:

you guys were like peas in a pod. in love with each other’s insecurity’s while hating your own. no matter how many times chan was hard on himself, he went out of his way to make sure you never felt that way. you always felt self conscious about your body, and if you even fit well as his girlfriend. chan was a gym freak— always working out, dead lifting weights like it was nothing and, keeping himself well in shape. he wasn’t skinny as he put on some good muscle mass, but you couldn’t help feeling out of place.

“is something troubling you angel?”

you’d brush him off, trying to hide how unappealing you’ve been feeling every time you looked in the mirror. your thighs constantly felt too big, your cheeks too chubby to compare to the preferred chiseled jawline. you couldn’t even wear tight clothes without feeling disgusting. chan noticed this— seeing that the once cute boho style you loved to wear, suddenly turned into boyish wear. the casual baggy hoodie with sweatpants. it was unusual for you.

he came up behind you, resting his head on your shoulder as you stared in the mirror. a slight frown pulling at your cheeks as your eyes wandered aimlessly around the bathing suit you wore. his hands wrapped around your waist, poking your tummy softly. he kissed your cheek, smiling at the figure he adored seeing.

“you’re beautiful.” he started, pulling your body to face him and not the mirror.

“you don’t need to be skinny to prove that. i love you just the way you are.”

lee know:

lino made it a tradition to take you out to dinner every friday, making sure you dressed in only your best for the occasion. he loved to see the way your curves hugged your dress, giving him a rush at his attractive it was. the only issue was that you didn’t feel the same way. you hated how tight the dress felt, how suffocating it was against your skin. you stared at your heels as you dreaded putting them on, knowing that your feet would just hurt by the end of the night. you didn’t feel like they were made for you. made for curvier people at least. you couldn’t help but frown, slouching in disappointment as he walked into the room expecting you to be ready.

“hey, you ok?”

you remained silent, refusing to meet his concerned eyes as he entered the room. he walked over to you but your eyes remained glued to the floor, watching his shoes stop below you. his hand slipped under your chin, lifting it to where he could see you face to face. lino placed a soft kiss against your forehead, kneeling on the floor to grab your heels. he carefully slipped them into your feet, not saying a word as he wanted to show you his love through action.

“you look stunning as always in this dress. i’ll keep telling you until it sticks.” he watched your hesitant expression, coming up to sit by you. he smiled softly, his reassurance giving you a sense of peace within yourself.

“but if you would like to wear something that makes you more comfortable, i’m more than okay with that too.”

changbin:

“have you ever gotten comments on your body, binnie?”

changbin nodded, his eyes focused on the tv as he flipped through the endless channels. “all the time. they never really stop.” silence engulfed the two of you as you sat there beside him, your thoughts eating away at you.

well who wouldn’t comment on such a nice body like his?

the silence became awkward, prompting changbin to look over at you for a few seconds. he noticed you picking at the skin of your lips, a clear indication of your nervousness kicking into overdrive. he put the remote down, his hand resting atop your thigh. he gave it a slight squeeze, making you break contact with the tv to look at him. his dark gaze made you red, the amount of pure lust and romance pooling into them making you squeamish. his thumb caressed your skin softly as he gave you a warm smile.

“i don’t only get good comments love.” he frowned slightly, turning his gaze away from you and resting his head against your shoulder. “i get bad ones too— saying im too big or I don’t have the right height for big muscle mass.” he sighed to himself, his hand giving your thighs gentle squeeze. “but i wont let them believe they’re right.. because if i do, it means i believe it too.”

you rested your head against his, placing your hand ontop of his own. he was right. your biggest enemy was his you viewed yourself— if you thought you were fat or ugly, others would believe it as much as you do. you sighed, nodding your head in agreement as your hands intertwined.

“and besides, i believe that you’ll always be perfect in my eyes.” he lifted his head to meet your eyes. “so if you don’t believe in yourself, know that i do, yeah?”

hyunjin:

you sat in the chair anxiously, squirming consistently as you tried to be as still as possible for hyunjin. you looked over at him, seeing how engrossed he was in his drawing as he looked at you every few seconds.

“i can’t get the perfect picture if you keep squirming baby.”

you nodded, forcing yourself to keep still. except you couldn’t help but subconsciously move your arms in front of you. you felt disgusted by your figure— not wanting to be seen, not wanting to be put on display for everyone else to see. your eyes were facing the ground at this point, your mind clouded with countless thoughts of negativity.

hyunjin set his things down, walking over to you. he placed his hand under your chin, lifting your head up to meet his concerned eyes. he kissed your forehead softly, offering you a small reassuring smile.

“you know i’m drawing you because you’re a beauty right?”

you didn’t answer, but you felt your face heat up at his words. he pulled you up from the chair, bringing you to his work space and grabbing the portrait. he held it up to you, taking a quick glance himself before looking back at you. a smile crept onto your face. you never though you’d see your body drawn in this way— the emphasis on your curves, on the parts of your body that you were most insecure of. the soft rolls on the sides of you. he captured every detail you hated and somehow turned it into a different point of view that you never had.

“now you can see yourself from my eyes. from my point of view.”

han:

you were always a huge stickler about yourself, specifically your own body. anytime that you had the chance, you’d find a reason to nitpick even the littlest thing about your own body. han knew this, and his patience was over the roof about it. he knew these kinds of things were normal, as he has the same issues himself from time to time. but he always went out of his way to make sure you knew you were beautiful.

“i think you look perfect as always!”

he’d give you the most reassuring smile, his gums showing through his lips as you stood outside the fitting room. your biggest thing was trying things on— as you knew the mirrors were meant to make you look slimmer than you were. it’s why you never tried things on at the store, but han insisted. “i wanna help you pick clothes out.” he said.

you rolled your eyes annoyingly, doing a small twirl as he motioned his fingers for you to. his face flushed red as he admired the way each outfit hugged your curves just snuggly. he was practically struggling to keep the blood from rushing elsewhere.

a slimmer girl walked out the fitting room with the same dress on, looking a million times better than you felt you were. you looked down at your outfit, shrugging your shoulders as you felt slightly suffocated. han noticed this, walking up to you and lifting your head to meet his eyes.

“stop comparing yourself to others angel.” he pulled the gem of the dress out a bit, admiring the dress outfit in you once more. “you look even better than they do in this.”

felix:

he laid next to you, kissing your plump cheeks softly as he held you close. you felt your face heat up slightly, feeling his arm shake around your waist. you paused his hand, pushing it away quickly and covering your waist with out arm.

“hm? did i do something?”

you shook your head immediately, turning away from him in the bed and staring at the empty wall. felix sighed to himself, attempting to snake your arm around you once more time only to be stopped by you. felix furrowed his eyebrows, sitting up in the bed and watching as you struggled to pull the blanket over you.

“i don’t want you touching me. i know it’s not appealing.” felix sighed, pulling you up to sit in front of him. his hand caressed your cheek, pinching it softly. he brought his other hand up to your face, squishing your cheeks and then squishing his own. you laughed at his gesture, feeling him rest his palms against your thighs. you looked away from his soft gaze, not wanting to face him and he was okay with that.

“you’re blind me with your beauty, what could i possibly hate?” his lips pressed against your check, delivering small amounts of kisses to it.

“No matter what you say or what you do, even how you look can change my perception of you. you are perfect in my eyes.”

seungmin:

he stood in the kitchen, stirring the bowl of fruits together as you grabbed the cool whip from the fridge. he made sure to add all of your favorites and his own, not caring if there were favorite fruits neither of you liked. you sat at the island table, plopping the container on the counter as you slumped in the chair.

as much as you hide it, you knew it was just as easy for seungmin to point out when you were down about your body. he didn’t like to bug you about it, nor give you reassurance that you may not be looking for. a simple gesture was enough for you to know he cared, to know he appreciated you just the way you were. he’d wrap his arms around you, giving you a firm but tight squeeze while his chin rested atop your head. and everytime you would melt under his warmth, his touch.

“you know i don’t care about your looks right? that’s not at all why im with you.”

if he felt even the slightest bit of hesitation from you, he’d poke your cheek and give you a small smile. you looked away shyly, feeling his fingers intertwine with your own.

“you are as amazing outside as you are inside. we all have our moments, but i’ll remind you everyday that you are beautiful.”

jeongin:

jeongin held up one of his sweaters to you, his head poking out just slightly from above as he displayed it to you. you tiled your head; it was cute, but it wouldn’t really give you the baggy boyfriend feel that you badly craved. at least you assumed so. he noticed your hesitant response, his arms dropping as he knelt in front of you.

“how many time do i have to tell you angel?”

he grabbed the sweater, putting it over your hand pulling it down softly so he didn’t hit you. he adjusted the wrinkles and the strings to the hoodie, taking a step back. he held his hands out as if he was looking at you through an frame, nodding i approval

“see. i know what i doing!” he looked up at you, seeing that you were avoiding eye contact purposely. he knelt back down in front of you so your eyes could meet his. he titled his head at you, resting his hands in your lap.

“baby. look at me.” you did exactly as you were told, feeling small out of embarrassment. his smile was huge, his cheeks nearly covering his eyes. he laughed to himself and admired you in his sweater.

“i don’t care if even my smallest clothes don’t fit you, i like seeing you wear my things.” he winked at you for a moment. “This includes my sweaters.

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#—♡vampzity #—♡︎vamp’s soft hours #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #stray kids fluff #stray kids angst #bangchan x reader #lee know x reader #changbin x reader #hyunjin x reader #han jisung x reader #lee felix x reader #seungmin x reader #jeongin x reader

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liwinly · 15 hours ago

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BABY , iM YOURS !

───── Soft whispers, playful touches, and endless love .

MORE ( 900 ) . Enhypen x fem!reader : fluff , romance . ✶ skinship , teasing

𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆

You’re curled up on the couch when Heeseung pulls you into his arms, pressing his face into the crook of your neck. His warmth seeps into you instantly, and you giggle as he nuzzles closer, his breath tickling your skin.

“Hee, what are you doing?” you ask, your fingers threading through his soft hair.

“Holding my baby,” he mumbles, voice laced with sleep. “You’re mine, right?”

You feel your heart melt at his words. Heeseung always gets clingy when he’s sleepy, and you love it. You shift to face him, cupping his cheek. “Of course, I’m yours.”

A sleepy smile tugs at his lips before he presses soft kisses along your jaw, your cheek, and finally, your lips. His arms tighten around you, as if afraid you’ll slip away.

“You smell so nice,” he murmurs, inhaling deeply. “Stay like this forever?”

You laugh, pressing a lingering kiss to his forehead. “Forever and always, Hee.”

He hums contentedly, pulling you even closer — if that’s even possible. And just like that, wrapped in his warmth, you know you’re exactly where you belong.

𝐉𝐀𝐘

Jay leans against the kitchen counter, eyes locked on you as you try to reach the top shelf for a jar of peanut butter. You’re on your tiptoes, struggling, and he can’t help but chuckle.

“Need some help?”

You turn around, pouting. “I can do it myself!”

“Mm-hmm, sure you can,” Jay teases, crossing the room in a few quick strides. He effortlessly grabs the jar from the shelf and hands it to you. His fingers brush against yours, sending a little jolt through you.

“Thanks,” you mutter, feeling a blush creep up your neck.

Jay grins and steps closer, his chest brushing against yours. He places his hand on the small of your back, pulling you into him with ease. “You know, you’re cute when you get all stubborn,” he whispers, his breath warm against your skin.

Your heart races at the closeness. “Stop teasing me, Jay.”

He leans in, his lips pressing against your forehead in a soft kiss. “I’m not teasing. I’m just reminding you that you’re mine, baby.”

You smile, melting into his touch. “I’m yours, Jay.”

𝐉𝐀𝐊𝐄

Jake’s laughter fills the room as you both tumble onto the couch, playfully fighting for the TV remote. You manage to snatch it from his hands, but before you can press a button, he pulls you back into his chest with a strong arm, trapping you.

“Gotcha,” he says, his voice low and playful.

You giggle, squirming in his embrace, but it’s no use. He holds you tightly, one hand resting on your waist. “You’re mine now,” he murmurs, his chin resting on your shoulder.

You glance up at him, a teasing smile tugging at your lips. “Am I?”

Jake’s eyes soften, and he kisses the side of your head, his lips lingering. “Absolutely. No escaping me, baby.”

You roll your eyes, but warmth spreads through your chest at his affection. “Guess I’m stuck with you then, huh?”

He chuckles and pulls you even closer, pressing his cheek against yours. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

His fingers trace circles on your back as you settle into the comfort of his arms, the world outside fading away. You smile, knowing there’s nowhere you’d rather be.

“Yeah, I’m yours, Jake.”

𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐍

Sunghoon is sitting on the couch, scrolling through his phone, but when he feels you settle next to him, he immediately wraps an arm around your shoulders. You lean into him, letting your head rest on his chest.

"You always know how to make me feel safe," you mumble, closing your eyes.

Sunghoon smiles softly, his fingers gently playing with your hair. "That’s because you’re mine," he says, his voice barely above a whisper, but it carries so much warmth.

You chuckle, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. "I’m yours, huh?"

He nods, his lips curving into a small, affectionate smile. "Always have been, always will be."

His hand moves to cup your cheek, pulling you in for a tender kiss. It's slow, soft, filled with all the love he has for you. When he pulls away, his forehead rests against yours.

"Baby, I’m yours too," he whispers, his eyes never leaving yours.

You smile, feeling your heart flutter. There’s nowhere else you’d rather be than in his arms.

𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐎𝐎

You’re sitting on the balcony, enjoying the quiet evening, when Sunoo quietly slips behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind. His chin rests on your shoulder as he leans into you, his warmth enveloping you.

“Hey, what’s up?” you ask, turning your head to glance at him.

Sunoo smiles softly, his eyes full of affection. “I just wanted to be close to you. You’re mine, aren’t you?”

You feel your heart flutter at his words. “Of course, I’m yours,” you reply with a teasing grin, but your voice softens when he presses a kiss to your neck, his lips lingering there.

“I’m glad,” he murmurs, his hands gently caressing your arms. “I don’t ever want to let you go.”

You turn in his arms, facing him now, your fingers tracing the outline of his jaw. “You don’t have to.”

His smile widens, and he cups your face, bringing you in for a gentle, lingering kiss. “Good, because I’m not planning on it.”

In that moment, everything feels perfect, with Sunoo’s arms around you and the soft sound of your beating hearts. “I’m yours, always.”

𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐖𝐎𝐍

You’re sprawled out on the floor, books and papers scattered around you as you try to focus on studying, but Jungwon is having none of it. He plops down next to you, leaning his head on your shoulder, his hand finding yours.

“You’ve been working too hard,” he says softly, his voice laced with concern. “Take a break, baby.”

You roll your eyes, trying to focus. “I need to finish this.”

But Jungwon isn't having it. He gently pulls the papers from your hands, tossing them aside, and turns you to face him. His eyes are filled with warmth. “You’re mine, and I’ll make sure you take care of yourself.”

You laugh, your heart fluttering at his caring tone. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

He grins, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “I know. But I’m your impossible, and you love it.”

His hand cups your cheek, and without thinking, you lean into his touch, closing your eyes. "You're right, I do love it."

Jungwon leans in and kisses your forehead gently. "And I love you, always."

You smile, feeling completely at peace in his arms. “I’m yours, Jungwon.”

𝐍𝐈-𝐊𝐈

You’re sitting on the couch, flipping through channels, when Ni-ki suddenly pops up beside you, his playful grin lighting up the room. Without warning, he snatches the remote out of your hands, laughing as you try to grab it back.

“You’re such a troublemaker,” you laugh, narrowing your eyes at him.

Ni-ki just shrugs, his mischievous grin widening. “I’m only a troublemaker because you let me be,” he teases, dropping the remote onto the couch and wrapping his arms around your waist.

You feel your heart race as he pulls you closer, his chin resting on your shoulder. “What are you doing, huh?”

“Just making sure you’re mine,” he replies, his voice quiet but playful. His hands find yours, lacing your fingers together. “Is that okay?”

You smile softly, feeling your heart melt. “Of course. You know you’re all I need.”

He leans in, planting a sweet kiss on your cheek before murmuring, “Then you’re mine, too, forever.”

In his embrace, everything feels right, and you can’t help but whisper, “Always, Ni-ki.”

── .✦ @amoressb @chrrific @slayyuna @woniefication @ijustwannareadstuff20 @cheruphic @irasvr @puma-riki

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crowborn666-writes · 1 day ago

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malleus/leona/azul with a fem student who has adhd and autism. yet crowley does nothing about it despite being explained over again saying 'you're just not trying hard enough, etc"

(Oh hey, it’s my two biggest brain problems lmao. As hot as I find Crowley (yes he’s a hear me out), just once, I would love to hit him over the head with every broken object in Ramshackle. Just whack him WWE style. I’d probably convince Grim, Ace and Deuce to join in. ANYWAYS—)

(this was actually a bit hard for my AuADHD, explaining ADHD and Autism itself is quite difficult for me without references lol that and I'm horrible with finding the right words)

That’s Not How That Works

Characters: Malleus, Leona, and Azul

Genre: Fluff, Comfort, Platonic/Romantic

Summary: No, Crowley, you cannot “just get over it”. Yes, you are trying your hardest. Oh, and your friend wants to “have a word” with you in your office.

(Malleus covers both p equally, while Leona leans more to ADHD, and Azul more to Autism!)

~~~~~~

Malleus

He didn’t get it at first. I doubt ANY of the cast would know what the proper terms for your mental conditions meant. But once you sit down with him, trying to find the right words to explain in a way he would understand, he catches on quickly.

For the ADHD side, once you explain what dopamine is, and how your brain doesn't register or create enough of it, he understands why you find difficulty in completing long term tasks, and why you wait until the last minute.

He catches on quite quicker when you explain Autism. While obviously its more than just a hyperfixation, but all you really have to start with is "kinda like how you obsess over gargoyles" for his eyes to widen in mutual understanding.

You hear a storm rolling in the distance when you go on to explain how Crowley wouldn't listen, and kept pushing you to do things that would surely lead to a massive burnout.

"I'll take care of it." He speaks those words so calmly, you almost fear for Crowley's life. But when Malleus speaks again, his tone now matches the bright smile on his face. "You said autistic people bond through... what was that term again? Infodumping??? Right, why don't you share your most recent interests with me, I can carve a new gargoyle in the while I listen."

Leona

Was already pissed off with Crowley's general treatment towards you. Suddenly has the urge to de-feather a bird when you get into the topic.

It comes up when he stops by to visit, watching you try to clean up around your dusty dorm. You had suddenly stopped in the middle of what you were doing, looking between the cups on the table, to the dishes in the sink, and then the mess on the counters and-

He asks you what was up, and without thinking you explain.

"Well, I want to clean the cups off the table, but the sink is full. I can't clean the sink out because the counter's messy and the dishwasher doesn't work, but I can't clean the counter cause the trash needs taken out and we're low on trash bags and-"

He stops you before your tongue flies out of you mouth, gently soothing you before you could work yourself frantic.

So, while he's helping find a solution to the seemingly endless cycle of tasks, you explain the difficulties you have with your ADHD and Autism in this world. You explain all the little tricks you had set up at home, how each one helped a task become more manageable, and how hard it was to get them set up and built into your routine.

While he doesn't personally experience your struggle, he can only imagine how hard you're having it. He looks out for your signs of stress now, stepping in to help fix or assist with things, maybe even wordlessly pass you a bracelet of his to fidget with.

Azul

Honestly, I would NOT be surprised if he has had his fair share of experience with ADHD and Autism. Not personally, but through the twins.

Floyd is, well, a walking bomb ready to explode. That eel can almost never sit still, seemingly unaware of personal boundaries and able to switch moods at the drop of a hat.

Jade is more subtle, oftentimes so quiet most don't realize he's there until he speaks. But if he's in a mood or someone asks about mushrooms, it's nearly impossible getting him to shut up.

So, it's safe to say Azul recognized those things when getting to know you. What he wasn't expecting, was the way you seemingly recoil in pain when you encounter an odd texture.

That wasn't the only thing either. You struggled with discerning lefts from rights, which made for some funny interactions between the twins. You struggled with remember to care for yourself when you fell too deep into a hobby or task, seemingly not feeling the signals for, say hunger, until someone else brings it up.

Finally, he had to ask you about it.

You do your best to explain it to him, but once you do, he lets out a soft, understanding "Ohhh..."

You run off on a tangent then, frowning as you start to talk about Crowley and the fact he refused to even try to understand. It was nice having a routine to follow, sure, but not when there's so much being thrown at you on top of the lack of support.

Azul's blood boils, and he almost whips out his phone to contact the twins for... information.

He offers to write up a contract for you then and there, detailing you receive better treatment from Crowley, giving you some ease of mind and body against all the overwhelming sensations you deal with on the daily.

He'll even let you admire his coin collection while he writes it.

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twst malleus #twst leona #twst azul #malleus x reader #leona x reader #azul x reader

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luv-lock · 2 days ago

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Angeellll my dearest writer♡ I hope you're doing well, if there's any haters not giving you a peace of mind. Just remember that a lot of us likes you!!

Okay so here's my question!

How would Alien!Reader reacts to Anissa? Cus y'know what she did to Mark in the comic- you can ignore this ask if you're not comfortable to write it❀♡

BUT if you do write about it! I would really love to see Reader going Qu mode on Anissa and 'fixes' her cus Mark didn't deserve that :'((

Okay, so first off—thank you! That means a lot, really. People like you are the reason I keep sharing my stuff.

Now, onto your question. How would Y/n react to Anissa?

So, here’s the thing—Y/N’s entire race doesn’t operate on the same moral framework as humans do. To her, sex is just another function—something as instinctual and necessary as eating or breathing. Males don’t get a say, because in her mind, that’s not how things work.

Like, imagine trying to explain to her why what Anissa did to Mark was so disgusting. Y/n wouldn’t understand why that’s bad—because in her species, the males don’t get a say in whether they want to mate or not. They’re brainless slaves. They exist to serve. To be used. She literally wouldn’t comprehend why Mark would be against sex if he was meant for it.

At first, when she hears what happened, she’d just stare at him blankly, trying to figure out why he’s so affected. Maybe it’d even irritate her a little, because what the fuck does he mean by “I didn’t want it?” Like. That’s not how it works.

But when she actually sees his reaction—sees how much it broke him, how he flinches at her touch instead of leaning into it, sees the cracks in him that weren’t there before—ohhh, that would piss her off.

Like, yeah, it pissed her off, but more in a “How dare you take what’s mine” way. Not in a moral “that’s horrible” way. In her mind, if a male is strong enough, he fights off anyone weaker than him. That’s what’s supposed to happen. The fact that Mark didn’t fight back just tells her how pathetic he is—but pathetic in a way that makes her mad rather than disgusted. How dare he let someone other than her do that to him? He’s supposed to be hers. No one else should have been able to touch him, let alone violate him. She doesn’t get why it made him upset exactly, but she understands enough to know that it enrages her.

Because, see, Y/N is a monster in the truest sense of the word. Sure, she’s intelligent, but emotionally, she’s an animal first and foremost. Cold, cunning, but still ruled by primal instincts. She knows how to act like a human when it suits her, but at the end of the day, she doesn’t empathize—she claims people, consumes what’s weak, and destroys what angers her. And Anissa? She’s a rival predator, a lesser one, one that dared to lay claim to something Y/N sees as hers. That’s the part that gets under her skin the most. The idea that Mark is hers—her pet, her mate, her property, her obsession—and someone had the audacity to steal from her? Yeah, no, Anissa just signed her own death sentence.

And that’s when she decides Anissa needs to suffer.

Does she rip her apart right then and there? No. That would be too easy. Too merciful. She’s the apex predator, the undisputed top of the chain, and this? This arrogant, lesser creature dared to touch what’s hers? She’d take her time.

And Anissa gets something special. Y/N tears her apart and rebuilds her into something that’s more to her liking. Her bones extend and curl, her limbs break and reform, her mouth stretches wide in a silent, soundless scream as her body becomes an amalgamation of all the failures that came before her. Clawed hands twitch, a second head nearly forms and then melts back into the grotesque new flesh as Anissa loses herself in endless, endless pain. A writhing, grotesque, ever-changing form of flesh and bone that never settles—never finds peace. A perpetual state of transformation. She molds Anissa into something that can’t even understand itself anymore. Because really, who does this bitch think she is? Did she really thought she could do whatever she wanted to him and get away with it? No, only Y/N is allowed to ruin Mark.

And then Y/N leaves her like that. Not dead—because that would be a mercy. Just awake enough to feel it, to be it, a distorted creature of twitching muscle and glossy skin that drips with its own existence.

#🕊️.ask #🕊️.alien reader #yandere mark grayson #mark grayson x reader

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multiheadcanons · 1 day ago

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OUTFITS I LOVE TO IMAGINE THE MERCS IN

scout: i’m gonna qualify this with i don’t even twinkify scout like that; but the idea of him in those whorish 13-15 inch inseam shorts for men is so delectable to me, shirt optional. i want to see his thighs tense as his feet hit the pavement and he propels himself forward. i want to see every muscle flex and contract as he breaks people’s ankles on the field. i need it so bad. i need more dynamic scout art.

soldier: soldier is so batshit that i just want him in military blues so he feels good about himself and the work he did that nobody asked him to do. but i like thinking of soldier in anything even remotely formal because it's so unlike him to wear. and also because the idea of him wearing something he is notably uncomfortable in and then shit hitting the fan and him tearing it off, becoming more comfortable and in that same breath an actual danger in his immediate surroundings is so... mm. love that goofy american.

pyro: i'll imagine pyro in anything because i haven't actually come to a conclusion on who or what pyro is to me, personally, so my go-to when i'm thinking about pyro outside of the suit and mask is just another full-body suit that covers their face. but the second pyro realizes that not every suit can resist flame they would probably go straight back to their own suit. but i think we could probably all convince pyro to get into one of those inflatable t-rex costumes. for a moment, anyway.

demo: if you see any fanart of demo in a kilt know i've liquified it and injected it directly into my veins. any character in their cultural clothes is so good to me, i just want to gobble it up. but especially tavish. a kilt, a simple turtleneck, one of those droopy fucking hats... demo pleasepleaseplease-- imagining demo in anything is always a tasty mental trip to go on. i just know he makes any and everything look good and artists solidify that every time i browse the demoman tag. especially when they give demo different hairstyles. cornrow demoman... loc demoman... afro demoman... the possibilities are endless. please play with demo's hair.

heavy: put him in a white turtleneck. bright white. pressed. well cared for, but he's owned it for a while. it's loose, it just frames his jaw, makes his head stand out. now put a sweater on top of it. deep, dark, bloody maroon. wool blend. thick. thick enough to keep him warm, just enough to moisten his skin. not quite enough to make him drip sweat, but enough to keep him glistening with the additional layers. enough to get the underlying scent of his sweat when you're close enough. let the collar hug his neck. like he doesn't wear it enough to truly stretch it out, so it still hugs his body. roll. the sleeves. up. to. the elbow. perfect cuffs. not a single wrinkle. tuck it in to a pair of tailored black slacks. freshly pressed. and a set of polished, black leather dress shoes. unscuffed. now put a bow on him so i can unwrap it.

engineer: for a moment i considered if this was a cop out, but i don’t think it is anymore. i want him in the world’s most frayed jeans and a tight fitting t shirt of any color and some god. damn. cowboy boots. i want him covered in dirt and grease and sweat. i want the threads of the denim to be holding on by the lord’s grace and a daily prayer. i want to see his boxers through the ass pockets. goggles optional, player’s choice of head covering.

medic: nothing but a smile. a towel. a blanket, maybe. okay i’ll stop being a freak. it’s so hard for me to really imagine the doctor in anything but his work uniform. from there i am literally just peeling off the layers with a very absent smile plastered on my face. i am gone. my favorite part of the process is when i get to his undershirt, past the button up, and his pants and his boots. like woah… save some hoes for the rest of us, doc… out here showing all that… slut. i want you so bad.

sniper: mick. mick. look at me. look at me, okay? relax. it’s not gonna be a big change. promise. promise promise promise. close your eyes, okay? we’re gonna take the hat off. nonononono mick mick mick mick. buddy. buddy. it’s okay. this is not permanent. and this is the only change, okay? and maybe get your huntsman, it’ll tie the look together. like the doctor, it is hard to imagine snipes in anything but his work uniform, but the only difference is we take the hat away and replace it with a rich, chocolate brown hooded cloak. it could be a full length cloak, a tea length or mid length cloak, that ends by his shirt hem, or like a little shoulder shrug for the summer. he’d probably keep the hood up if it’s a light enough fabric. make him look like a real hunter. embroidered leaves and birds as holes are worn in the fabric. also done in threads of different shades of brown. i’ll let him keep the aviators. i’m feeling nice today.

spy: unlike the rest of his support teammates, i imagine spy in pretty much any and everything! spy is pretty enough that he can easily put on anything and make it look good; but i particularly like to imagine him in, frankly, whatever i have on for the day. i think my favorite outfit i wore that i telepathically projected onto him was a sleeveless turtleneck with some burnt orange slacks and these odd cognac dress shoes i have that have cut outs on the side. i just think he’d eat those shoes up. but i think he’d probably wear that whole outfit better than i did.

#team fortress 2 #team fortress two #tf2 medic #tf2 heavy #tf2 sniper #tf2 engineer #tf2 pyro #tf2 scout #tf2 spy #tf2 soldier #tf2 demo #tf2 demoman

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mihii-i · 2 days ago

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a demon couldn’t love, only deceive.

Pairings: mizu x fem!reader

CW: nsfw, female reader, afab reader, mildly angsty because yes, misogynistic society, mizu initially referred to as a male, blood, mild violence, fingering, praise, crying, a sprinkle of cunnilingus but not really, sentle gex yay, tit sucking, kind of vanilla tbh but lowkey poetic so, girls kissing oh no, mmm bottom mizu rubs hands tg like an evil fly, mizu being her own biggest hater, i <3 mizu guys I love my gf i feel like my husband went to war while i wait for 2026, not proofread.

A/N: now playing — under the influence by chris brown. omg I’ve been waiting to write more bottom mizu because holy shit also she’s canonically a bottom?? Like I get my girl gives off bde but pleaseeee Someone needs to make my sweetheart feel good don’t hog all the pleasure for yourselves. @fairexy78 🕯️

Screeching of Mizu’s katana abruptly skipping along the large rock in deep scrapes shot through your eardrums as a piercing wail, humming in tune with the whistles of cool winter air bristling across the horizon blanketed in thick sheets of snow. The sudden drag of steel pressed against the sharp stone snapped you out of the mindless daze that occupied your head in the midst of going along with the motions of trailing behind the samurai, your eyes gravitating to align with his own through the hood of his kasa shrouding his face.

“(Name). Get comfortable, we’re going to rest here for the day.” Mizu asserted, glancing over at you without questioning the meek nod you had delivered him.

—

All you could recall as you trailed behind him for endless hours was the repeat of his first meeting with you over and over, broken on repeat like the faulty string of a shamisen bellowing in an endless ring. Every detail remained crystal clear among the events playing out within your thoughts to sear into your irises, pupils dilating with each flash of a detail as minute as the crunch of a singular footstep planted behind Mizu’s from when you had first begun to tail him in the midst of her quest.

The shivers thundering along your frame, stiff from the harsh cold of winter as you stumbled over the unmovable skip in your swift steps with your body tumbling forward to sink into the snow, was something that would never stray away from you as long as you lived. Lingering on the fear stirred in your chest as you could only stare up at the crooks circled around you, clicks of the foreign guns squeezed in their hand over the trigger with their sadistic smiles burning into your skull like the last thing you’d ever see.

It was in the blink of an eye when you caught the splatter of blood tainting the pale white in trickling drops, seeping down to lap at your ankles as you instinctively shrank away. You noticed a man through the blur of your vision, practically strangling the crooks that circled around you, the dry ocean blue of his cloak spreading slightly to give way to his elbows curled against a crook’s chest to squeeze at the fabric draped over their chest. Merely to impale them clean across without answer as scarlet drops specked along the beautiful waves patterned along his blade.

Your eyes raked along his tall stature carefully, from the baggy ends of his harem pants trailing to the dark blue kimono tight against his chest—too short and tight to be considered one even. It simply looked like he took a child’s kimono as a makeshift article of clothing that wouldn’t get in his way. However, you were barely able to retain the sudden gasp that was about to peep out of you as your gaze landed onto the beastly azure of his irises. A half blooded child. You were sure that’s what he was.

Repeated strings of “stop following me.” Or “you will not find what you seek at my side.” Kept smoothing out like a path to heaven leading you on, her dismissal of your presence being met with your fascination with the devil man enticing you further into tracing his path. His disgusted expression staring daggers into you over his shoulder hadn’t pushed you away in the slightest, instead drawing you deeper into the thrashing sea of his plight he so desperately pleaded to mask.

Eventually, the swordsmen couldn’t help but soften in the presence of the beautiful woman following his every move, her enthusiasm and bright energy burning as a lantern of hope that rendered his ice cold heart into a tender mush with every action of yours barely quirking up a smile along his frown. A rare gleam of joy that sparked up within Mizu at your bounding smile drawn over his shoulder in curiosity, head turning away from the warmth of your touch to avoid himself from falling too deep in the comfort you enveloped him in.

His nights were now filled with the newfound content sense bestowed upon him in the wake of you caring for him, finding solace in the fact alone that you didn’t care for his little actions being ruthless or cruel. Simply an aspect of what was needed to survive in the grueling inequality elevated into the confines of society within an isolated Japan. Your little gestures of compassion were enough to make the stern swordsman shift tender in the gentle grasp of your palm tracing along his.

You didn’t see him as a monster. Something he had never heard, even the most intimate, who had even remotely come close to loving him through his half blooded taboo.

Could it be he was falling for you?

He shouldn’t bother. Your kindness was likely out of fear. It was clear someone as filthy as him couldn’t be loved.

Yet, the premise of his earlier beliefs warped into a puddle of worthless irrelevance, previous judgements crumpled into a purely nonexistent state as he felt your lips collide with his suddenly, hand resting on his shoulder as your kiss froze over time itself in that moment. Mizu of course, couldn’t help but kiss you back—albeit a bit hesitantly, lips hugging against your own tenderly in a heated embrace locking the plush muscle together as his hand craned over to thread through your scalp almost desperately in a gesture to pull you in deeper.

Despite your bond carving a deep mark into every bone in his body, Mizu was of course hesitant, if not more guilty as to have been shrouding you in the lies piling up atop your unwary bliss. The curse of his inhibitions gnawing away at him—or rather, her. Regarding the lie of leading you into believing you had fell for a man when in reality, she had been born as a woman in the unfortunate circumstances this world had in fact cursed upon her. Navigating under the guise of a man for the sake of her safety.

Not only had you seen past her demonizing appearance, the shame of her birth and origin evident in her eyes meaning nothing to you, despite being an outcast all over the country. But you had treated her as she had always wanted to be treated, cradling her in a sort of cushion of love that reached for her hand in the depths of hatred she had drowned in all her life.

And how had she repaid you? By allowing someone as benevolent as yourself fall into the deceit of her wretched lies, just as an onryō would cast destruction upon anything in its path.

—

The sound of Mizu clearing his throat caught your attention momentarily, chin tilting up to size him up as he stood upright from the rock. He gently nudged his sword off to the side to lay flat against the small slivers of snow still scattered around the thawed clearing to which you two had set a fire, making sure it was aligned well before stepping away to a tunneling pit of shadows gated between the lines of bleak trees.

You cocked your head to the side in confusion, seeking for the samurai to elaborate on his sudden relocation elsewhere. Mizu sighed, clarifying as to not worry you too much.

“I..need to bathe. There’s a nearby lake past the trees, and it’s not too far off. Call my name if you’re in danger.”

“Ah, alright Mizu. Just be careful alright?”

He swiftly nodded, sliding out the orange glasses from the inner lapel of his kimono as he neatly folded the two pieces over the other in a high click, before gently positioning it on top of the rock so it wouldn’t fall. Noticing your eyes fixed on him, Mizu huffed out as he fought back the urge to roll his eyes, since he knew full well you only looked at him like that when he was forgetting something.

“Ugh, what is it?”

“You’re forgetting something, my sweet samurai.”

Mizu fought back the groan threatening to push past his lips, yet suppressing the smile that clashed against it as well in his overriding internal conflict between annoyance and adoration. How could he possibly deny the woman he loved a gesture of affection? He leaned down, pecking his lips against your temple in a quick, chaste kiss as he stood back up, pursing his lips at your satisfied expression.

“Happy?”

“Very much so, enjoy your bath. But don’t be out for too long. Heard that you’ll wrinkle up if you do.”

As Mizu headed off, you were left alone with your thoughts once more in the gentle pit of silence, nothing but nature’s whistles humming along the sunset brightening the distant snow leaving you at peace with your own mind as a sanctuary in Mizu’s absence. Of course, the first question that had came to your mind was one that would be widely questioned had anyone known of your relationship with him. Why hadn’t he made a move in you or engaged in any intimate acts upon you professing your love to the samurai?

You knew that a man was only so strong, that he couldn’t fight back his urges for so long especially in the presence of a woman whom he loved. So Mizu’s abstinence came as quite the surprise. Was he embarrassed? Inexperienced? Or perhaps he simply had no interest in sex. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it. By now, many would have made love when mentioning the prospect of a kiss alone, so his behavior was fairly strange to you.

Yet you couldn’t judge him for it, you did love him after all. But part of you did desire that level of intimacy with him, even if it wasn’t sex, seeing him bare or holding him with no clothing separating your bodies interrwining would be nice at the very least.

You adored every part of the seemingly ruthless man you had grown attached to, his low voice softening every time he spoke to you, his thin, yet well built frame wrapped around yours when you slept. And of course you wouldn’t dare leave out the part anyone else would’ve deemed impure, even Mizu himself.

The violent maelstrom of crashing tides that eased to a calm shore upon softening, a beautiful storm of bright blue that stabbed into the cruel world with hatred, yet protected you in their touch as their own personal home.

His eyes were the most beautiful part of him, despite the hatred that arose at the hands of his impurity evident on sight.

What you presumed to be several minutes passed in slow accordance with the breeze batting your cheek, worry bubbling up within you, thoughts cluttered in an unending rush of potential scenarios that could’ve unfortunately doomed your lover during his time alone, as he had been gone for quite some time. Well over how long it would usually take to bathe.

Taking a deep breath to push back your initial fear of what you might see, you rose up to your feet in moments, slowly treading through the pathway between the array of thick branches of wood as every crunch of your footsteps rang out in a noise that seemed to slow down with each step forward. You peeked into the area, hearing the swishing streams of the waterfall spilling into the lake in a hushed white noise that calmed you.

Unable to see Mizu anywhere in your swift search, the overwrought panic took over your instincts in the heat of a moment in which you thought you would slam into the face of danger, darting in as you skidded to a halt as the sharp point of a long branch barely poked inches away from your jugular.

Quickly, that panic made way for a series of perplexed emotions overtaking you in seconds, questioning if you were hallucinating at the sight of a nude woman before you, glistening in drops of water dribbling down her body as her chest heaved up and down, likely equally as panicked as you. Not only that, her face resembled that of Mizu’s in an eerily similar fashion, everything down to the thick eyebrows crowning her blue irises matching the man you were with.

It didn’t take you long to notice. At all. Your lover was a woman under the impression of a man, tucking away her identity from the world in fear of ending up dead or worse. Especially with her goals being made easier, even with the factor of her mixed heritage under a more masculine demeanor. Oddly enough, you could empathize with her on a level of what she had been put through. Of course, you were a woman yourself, so you knew what it was like in this patriarchal society.

Mizu only froze up in shame, her breaths shallow in anxious fear as she backed away from you. She had never wanted you to see her like this, she didn’t want you to see even more of her shame, what she had hidden from you for so long. Her lies that could have done away with your relationship by now, as you had been wallowing in the falsehood that was your relationship. A demon couldn’t love, only deceive. That’s what she had been taught about herself, that’s all she knew.

“I’m..sorry..” was all she could muster the courage to choke out, her bottom lip dragging between her teeth to hide away her cracking voice to keep up the emotionless front.

However you didn’t find yourself straying away from the attraction toward Mizu…the strange sensations built up only growing stronger in a desire to hem her in yout grasp. Was it because you understood the struggles of being a woman? Or rather you truly were able to line your eyes along the beauty of her sharp features in a more feminine sense instead.

Whatever it was, you truly didn’t mind. In fact, you felt yourself far more infatuated with your lover than before, chest locking up at the sight of her enchanting form alone, as she was ethereal—out of the question for someone as beautiful as her to be in this world.

You were unable to tear your eyes away from Mizu in the fostered tension of her heavy breaths, quivering with the ache of unshed tears. Her body slowly shrinking back from you if you had done so much as lift a finger closer to her, the life practically draining from her face right before your eyes.

Shallow exhales racked the palpable silence hanging in the darkening sky, the gentle pale glow of the moon caressing her face making Mizu seem all the more unreal to you, like the spirit of a woman described in legends in a trance of captivating beauty. The way gleams of moonlight accentuated her features in a light shine brightening slivers of her thin, muscular body, capturing her as an almost ethereal being who didn’t belong on land, but rather in a sort of heaven that encompassed her beauty.

To put it simply, you were more enthralled by the fact that she was a woman instead of a man, drawn in further by not only her appearance, but the acknowledgment of her struggles as a searing wound in the vile society the two of you resided in. Perhaps everyone saw such a woman as a demon, for they couldn’t fathom her gorgeous features, that clearly proved too much for mortal eyes to behold.

Before Mizu could even open her mouth to justify her actions, scrambling together to apologize for her lies in the presence of her demonic nature that she had the misfortune of existing in—you quickly shoved your index finger against her darkened lips, soaked from the wash of the waterfall continuing to cascade down into the lake in quick rushes. Your eyelids lowered to take in her complexion as you leaned in nose to nose with her, the droplets of water brushing over you like a gift from her body to yours, while Mizu’s expression remained stunned with the way you held yourself up to her willingly. Not disgusted, nor disappointed by her lie, yet rather further reeled into the temptation of love itself.

“Mizu..”

“(Name)..?”

Your breath against her remained as cool as the harsh winds of winter, yet tranquil enough to ease her into relaxing herself under your touch. Carefully trailing your fingers up her arms in little skips along her wet skin, you somehow eased the swordsman into your touch as her body loosened into your arms like the sap of a tree. Melting into your touch in a deep lean with your skin to her nearing that of a sedative, which she could fall asleep safely to.

Every moment you spent drawing the patterns of your hands over her arms like a painting she never wanted to wash off, you silently flickered your gaze over to her lips, eyes flitting to meet hers in the warmth of cerulean softened in the comfort of your touch on her body. Lips drawing closer and closer each time, a surge of elation sparked through you once Mizu leaned in, in time with your own lips. Signaling to you in silence that you are in fact what she wanted, internally grateful in an overwhelming spill of emotions filled within her at the fact that you could accept her for who she is.

The sensation of her your lips hugged to hers ignited the heat of trust linking her heart with another, the desire to remain close to you flaring up once more, as that feeling had been left untouched for so long in the frozen over ridges of her affection and trusted, gated away for so long in a thick barrier of ice. Which now, your love had thawed away, allowing you—no, giving a piece of herself to you to which she could finally be vulnerable.

The waterfall spread to the land skirted around it was frozen over entirely, everything down to the earth covered in snow on the side icy to the touch. Yet despite the often avoided conditions the two of you had found yourself in, the warmth of your bodies fit together was strangely enough to keep you not only hot, yet alive. Flaring with the flames of passion roaring within you as it wasn’t long before you hovered above your lover flat against a slanted, smooth rock buried within the snow, Mizu’s back flush to the cold stone.

“Fuck..”

Her blue eyes buried themselves into your brain from the way she looked up at you, heavy lidded and lips parted in short breaths as you withdrew yourself from the kiss. The look in her eyes alone, that same deep storm in her eyes would for sure be a sight you would commit to memory, grasp dug into your nape as her stoic demeanor was long gone from your touch roaming along her skin, squeezing at her bare hips to which she hummed through her sealed lips.

For certain, this was the woman whom you loved. It would take an army of soldiers to pry you out of her arms and rip you to shreds if it meant being away from her. The sight of her sprawled out bare for you—exposed to your touch, practically waiting for your hands caress her all over affectionately in a plea to the gods that there truly was someone that loved her in this world. Your breath hitched at her foot nudging up against the back of your knee, her eyes still beholding that same glint that made her seem utterly intoxicated from the way you ran your hands over her.

“Can I? Please, Mizu?” You pleaded, hands resting on the inside of her thighs to gentle roll apart the minimal fat on her bones to expose her cunt glistening between her legs.

Her eyes fixed on you intently with each move you had made along her body, surprised at your touches carefully brushing every part of her body as if it was a sacred temple you served to worship. Handling even your kisses along her stomach with the utmost care, occasionally looking up at her for an affirmation of sorts. Catching her breath hitched in her throat from the unfamiliar sensation of this extent of adoration, Mizu quickly rested a hand on the back of your head, delivering you a nod of affirmation to your delight.

Sweet fans of air grazed along her heat as your eyes remained focused on the dampened folds of her cunt spread for you, tracing your middle finger up her slit as a trial as Mizu lulled her head back along the cool flat of the rock in compliance, surrendering over the most intimate parts of herself a promise while she bit back the noises crawling up her throat upon feeling your finger slip past her folds into the moistened velvet caging your fingers.

She was soaked, likely from the buildup of her arousal alongside the aftermath of her bath from earlier. As if her washing herself off was futile by now, the anticipation nervously pooling within her coated her body in a thin layer of sweat with each experimental touch of yours, sheathing your finger into her pussy with caution as you glanced up at Mizu’s face, twisted in pleasure for any signs of discomfort.

Although it wasn’t the first time she had done this, the way you continued to check on her through the overwhelming bliss of your digit curling into her spongy walls sure felt like it was. Mizu only struggled to contain the gasps that fell from her swollen lips as she felt the unexpected drag of your tongue pressed against the velvet of her clit as she writhed beneath you, close-mouthed low moans buzzing against her throat as you latched onto the bundle of nerves between her thighs with each curl of your fingers.

Her cunt left you drunk at her mercy as you lapped away hungrily at the taste seeping onto your tongue, accompanying the gradual increase in volume of her moans while her hips bucked up driving you further into the depths of a haze that caught even Mizu in the whirlwind of your touch. Your fingers continued to stutter their movements in the flurry of your onslaught against her pussy, the taste of her slick smeared across your lips growing far too intoxicating for you to multitask in the blur of you own arousal, Mizu’s gasps pitched to outright lewd moans as you eased your ring finger past her folds as well.

The samurai squirmed in the overwhelming sensations coursing through every vein in her body, her fibers tinged with the feel of your fingers lodged inside her as her walls clamped around your digits like a vice keeping you inside her. Her sharp breaths squeaked out of her alongside the endless stream of whimpers that fell from her lips, quivering against your thrusts as your lips pressed up her torso in a trail of fire. Nose tickling along her let down hair, you smiled as you took the time to brush any strands off her body, lips wrapping around any skin you could land your mouth on across her.

Mizu’s eyes rolled to the back of her head in the strangled chorus of her moans, squeezing them shut as her throat began to run dry from the pressure you exerted onto her chest, free hand palming her right breast while your lips wrapped around the other. Her heart rapidly thumped against her chest in heavy beats as both your fingers sheathing in an out of her, as well as your added stimulation to her chest drove her insane. She had never once been able to bask in the comfort of anyone loving her this much, willing to hang on for dear life even if it was the last thing they did.

Both of you were so deeply coiled up within one another, entwined to the point where seperating you both would be out of the question, the raw passion of the moment embedding a deep crest of each other, worn on both of your hearts with pride. Echos of what you invoked within each other, the enticing fervor of a love so deep it could span across the realm of the god, sever any blade that tried to cut through it whether it was a well trained samurai or the shogun himself.

“You’re so beautiful..do you know that?” You murmured against her tit, tenderly sinking your fingers back in to barely graze along the cavern of her g-spot.

Mizu’s nails dug deep crescents into your bare shoulders, her whines now knowing no end as they drawled out of her like an infinite melody, her hips rolling against your hips quicker to keep up with the pace you set when you pushed them into her while gradually speeding up. Her moans caught up in her throat as small slips of tears streamed down her cheeks, her words coming out as messy sobs that cracked with your thrusts stuffing her full.

“Fuck, I- ah-! (Name)..I love- haah-! Love you so much..” she sobbed, not bothering to speak any more besides those words as her moans did enough in expressing it all.

You smacked your lips away from her glistening breast as your feverish lips pressed to her cheek in assurance, knowing that she was vocal during sex as you could see now, yet not one to talk to convey her feelings. Your lips continued to work along her exposed throat, feeling her whimpers and whines vibrate against your lips with each kiss you planted to her neck.

“I love you too..”

Almost in the blink of an eye, it wasn’t long before her hips jerked in the burn of your fingers stretching her open, stuttering against you inside her. The steady pace of your fingers slowly subsided to a stop as her juices spilled to decorate your fingers, heavy drawn out breaths ringing in your ears as Mizu clung to you for dear life upon reaching her climax.

Wordlessly, she dragged you on top of her as she held you tight to her chest, the same guarded embrace which she always fell asleep to you with as her eyes grew heavy from the exhaustion of your intense experience.

You gently brushed her hair out of her face at the sight of the feared samurai laying below you, open and willing to welcome you into her arms as a rare sight. About to nearly fall asleep in your arms, you recalled how greatful you were to have her in your life, embracing her with all your heart. Whatever she wanted, whatever you wanted in your life amidst the darkness and ache stabbed into this world, the thick aftermath lingering in the air proved that all you needed was each other.

Truly, you believed that the gods were in your favor, as Mizu was a blessing you couldn’t forsake.

A/N: OKAY I WAS SUPPOSED TO POST YESTERDAY BUT IT GOT LATE AND I FELL ASLEEO BEFORE I COULD WRITE THE SECOND HALF HOLY SHIT anywayyyy I like how this one turned out yippee

@fairexy78 eat now dinner’s ready

Yippee I might post again later today or double post Saturday and Sunday if I’m up to it because I planned to post this yesterday and another fic today omg

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ghstfoam · 19 hours ago

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It Keeps Us Dancing by The Family Crest as Eliotté and Faustus. is this anything

slowly turns to you

youre the worst /pos. I think you'll enjoy this

//wynncraft spoilers

My Eli,

I hope this letter reaches you soon. I’ve just arrived in Thanos a few days ago—my first break since leaving Efilim. As usual, they’re wearing me down out here. Actually, I’ve been assigned to handle a dragon of all things—can you believe it? I was only tasked with moving her egg, but still, being so close to a creature like that was quite the experience.

You’d like the people here. They’re full of energy and definitely loud, kind of like Tasim and Aledar. I miss them. I miss you.

The city itself is nice, though the heat makes me feel like I’m a piece of metal in the blacksmith’s forge, constantly being tossed from one task to the next. But the food—it makes it all worth it. I’ll have to bring you here sometime, just for the food. As lovely as this place is, I don’t think I could stand another night here.

[The end of the paragraph is hurried, as if Faust was called away in the middle of writing]

I’m lost. The cliffs around me keep shifting, and I haven’t figured out their pattern well enough to find my way out. For now, I’ll just keep heading east, following the sunrise. There has to be something that way. I’ll make it back to you.

I made it to Bantisu, though I’m currently stuck in bed. The monks here insist I rest, which, honestly, isn’t the worst thing—it’s giving me a chance to write to you. I had to carry a tourist, I think, up the steps before I arrived. I tuned them out pretty quickly—typical complainer, you know? After that, I was brought to their hospital, and I can’t say I mind being in a proper bed again. It’s comfortable here, and the breeze is cool and refreshing. You’d love it. It feels free.

I’m so sorry. I owe you an apology for all the things I’ve never been able to say. There’s so much I’ve kept hidden from you, afraid of how you’d react, afraid of how you’d see me. I can’t keep it from you any longer, I need to come clean about everything.

Tasim left because of what he saw that day in Elkurn. He saw something, and he didn’t want me to tell Aledar about it, so I lied. I lied to everyone, including you. I couldn't tell anyone, he asked me not to, I’m so so sorry. My spells, haven’t been right, not because I couldn’t master them, but because of the corruption. It got to me, the corruption has been altering them and it’s killing me from the inside. I can feel it every day, and it terrifies me. The people disappearing, used as experiments for the golems, I could have stopped Dr. Urelix. I chose not to. I didn’t tell anyone, and I let it continue. It’s for the best, it has to be. There’s this elf named Lari. I can’t shake the feeling that everything that’s happened, everything that’s gone wrong with Gavel, is because of her. If she’d stopped holding onto her pacifistic ideals just long enough to act, we wouldn’t be stuck in this mess right now and I’m just trying to clean up the chaos she hasn't been able to fix. Orphion made me pick. Do I kill the mayor or Dr. Urelix? I killed him. The mayor. I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to hurt anyone. But it's for the better of the people. Orphion supports me. I had these horrible visions of what could happen to you if the decay reached you. I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you, so I had to send you away. I know it was wrong, and it tore us apart, but I couldn’t risk you getting caught in this. I couldn’t let anything happen to you.

I'm exhausted from these visions. I keep seeing fragments of the past, and I can't tell if it'sOrphion or something else. Each one is worse than the last—families torn apart, lives destroyed. People I couldn't save. The mayor, Dulluhan, you, all in their place. I can't stand it anymore. The warden, the prison, three months of endless torture before I finally escaped. Maybe I should've stayed. The warden's right—maybe I deserve all of this. You should hate me for what I've done. I should've died in that mine. But I'll find my way back to you, even if all I see in your eyes is hatred. I have to see you again.

[The letter ends abruptly, the bottom of it torn and smudged with ink.]

#wynncraft #wynncraft oc #writing #letter #oc writing #ghost writes

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wildsaltair · 5 months ago

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Nightmare

Pairing: Maximus Decimus Meridius x reader

Rating: T (hurt/comfort, angst, fluff)

Word Count: 2.3k

Tag List: @enjisbf, @nasatshirts, @empressenchanted

Author’s Note: Up until now I've never posted any Maximus fanfiction because it's always just sort of been something I did for my own enjoyment, but this is one that I don't mind sharing :) @streets-in-paradise inspired me by sharing some Maximus love with me, so this is dedicated to her (and all you other wonderful people who have made Tumblr a place where I can share my passion for this wonderful man)! There's a lot of love poured into this fic, so I hope y'all enjoy it :)

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You are not surprised to learn that Maximus has nightmares. The details of his past are something you can only guess at, though he has alluded to the terrible battles and bloody escapades that haunt his memories. You also know that his refuge in your home is the first peace he has known since he was a child.

But you are not prepared for the sheer forcefulness of his first nightmare. He’s asleep next to you in bed, pale blue moonlight filtering through the window of your room, but you are awakened by his movements in the middle of the night. He’s jerking back and forth, his face twisted in a look of concentration, agony, and terror. You can’t help the fear that rises in your throat at the sight.

He makes a quiet sound in the back of his throat, one hand gripping the sheets tightly enough that his knuckles turn white. Blinking yourself into consciousness, your heart tightens at the sight. Even all these miles and months away from battle, still his past pursues him in dreams.

His next convulsion shakes the bed, and you instinctively reach out to him, hoping to wake him from the nightmare. It proves to be a mistake the second your hand presses onto his shoulder to shake him awake.

His eyes fly open at your touch, but it’s abundantly obvious that he is not awake, still seeing visions of whatever memory he was in a few moments ago. The look in his eyes is one of pure survival instinct, of a desperation that breaks your heart.

A split second later, you’re flat on your back, and the full weight of his body is pinning you down against the bed. You barely have time to register the shock of his swift movement before you realize that you did not wake him up. Blinded by memory, all he can see is his opponent, and the thought drives you to panic and try to wriggle out from under him.

Grinding his teeth, he grips both your wrists in his left hand and restrains them above your head effortlessly, despite your struggling. You call out his name softly, then more loudly, but still he is lost in the nightmare.

You thought you had tasted his strength before, when he’s made love to you and demonstrated how easily he can hold you in whatever position he chooses, but this situation gives you an entirely new perspective of his strength. A second after flipping you over, his right hand is around your throat, his thumb pressing into your jugular with enough force to crush it.

You’ve never been afraid of him once, but in this moment, without a single hint of recognition in his eyes and all his power focused on choking you, you are so terrified you can barely react. You can’t even use your hands to try to push him away.

Knowing that you may only have a few seconds to react, you gasp out his name as loudly as you can, the word immediately drowned out by the pressure on your throat. Your vision is fading to black a moment later, all the feeling in your hands gone from his vise-like grip.

But your strangled cry reaches past the fog of his nightmare somehow. The pressure on your throat releases, and his eyes widen suddenly, letting you know that he’s finally awake and realizing what he has been doing.

You can never forget the look in his eyes at that moment. All the terrifying forcefulness, the single-minded fierceness, the brute strength that made him such a force of nature on the battlefield — it all vanishes in a split second, dissolving into a gaze of such horror and regret that it shatters your heart instantly. You know that from this moment forward, he may never truly trust himself with you again, a thought that devastates you for him.

You can’t move for a moment, still struggling to catch your breath, and the look of horror in his eyes only increases as he pushes himself off you. He seems torn between the need to gather you in his arms and the fear of hurting you as he just did. His lips move, but no sound comes out.

You draw a ragged breath, reaching out one hand toward him desperately. “I’m all right,” is all you can manage. “I’m all right.”

You try to push yourself to a sitting position, but you find that you simply cannot, still so shaken from thinking you were about to be choked to death by the man you love, who you know would rather die than cause you any harm. His hands are trembling wildly when he reaches out to steady you.

“I didn’t know it was you,” he says, his own breathing so erratic that you wonder if he can feel your pain. “I couldn’t see you. I didn’t know it was you.”

He’s repeating himself in absolute shock, his eyes scanning every inch of your face, your neck, your arms to see what damage he’s done to you. His shaking only worsens, but he doesn’t lay a hand on you during his frantic checking over you for injuries, just lets them hover as if he’s afraid to touch you again.

You manage to sit up this time, steadying yourself with a calming breath and trying to give him a relaxed smile. “I know, I know,” you murmur, reaching out to brush your hand over his ruffled hair. He almost recoils at your touch.

“I could have killed you,” he whispers, involuntarily shifting himself to the edge of the bed away from you.

You keep running your hand lightly through his hair, determined to reassure him. “Of course not,” you promise. “You were only dreaming. It was just a dream.”

“It was just a dream,” he echoes, but not in agreement. “A dream of a battle in which I almost died. In which I killed so many men I could never count them.”

You don’t betray a single hint of fear, just scooting forward to close the distance between you. You use both hands now, framing the sides of his face as his eyes search your face desperately.

“I’m perfectly all right,” you assure him with a smile. “See? No harm done at all.”

“You don’t understand,” he insists vehemently, his voice breaking. “I could have killed you. I didn’t know it was you. I only saw my enemy and thought of killing him.”

Seeing how shaken he is, you push forward and clasp your arms around his neck to steady him. He still doesn’t touch you, doesn’t return your embrace. You can feel his whole body quaking in your arms.

“You don’t understand,” he repeats. “You don’t know what I’m capable of.”

“I don’t need to know,” you whisper in his ear, stroking his hair rhythmically in the way he always responds to.

He actually pushes you away this time, his hands gentle on your forearms as he puts space between you again. His eyes are blazing, his face as white as your sheets. “You don’t know,” he murmurs again, dropping his hands. “I could snap your neck with one twitch of my wrist. I could break your wrists, your ribs, your spine as easily as I can hold you down.” He holds his hands up in front of you, eyes wide and haunted. “You have no idea what these hands have done.”

“I don’t care what they’ve done,” you argue, seizing his hands with yours before he can pull them away. This time, though, he doesn’t make a move to pull away, freezing in place while he watches you carefully. Slowly, intentionally, you kiss the backs of both his hands, his knuckles, his fingers, to demonstrate your words. “I know you, and I love you, no matter what you’ve done.”

He shakes his head, though his eyes drift closed at the touch of your lips on the base of his palms. “No,” he half-whispers, “no, no.” Your heart tightens seeing him so tortured, knowing that all this anguish lurks beneath his stoic exterior every day, hiding so you can’t see it. “I should never have risked you like this.”

“You’ve never risked me,” you insist. “You’ve never done anything but protect me.”

“Until tonight,” he counters sharply, his eyes flashing open and fixing on yours with his typical intensity magnified. “It only takes one time. I should never have taken the risk.”

You can read the meaning behind his words — that he thinks he can’t trust himself to sleep next to you. The thought of giving him up, especially for this reason, is utterly unacceptable to you.

“I am not afraid of you,” you tell him firmly. Your words seem to affect him, because the tension in his shoulders lessens fractionally. You kiss his hands again and again, then rest your cheek against the roughened skin that you love so much.

“You should be,” he replies softly, the severity in his voice already decreasing. You can see the waves of exhaustion and sorrow washing over him, and you reach out your arms to enfold him again. This time, he accepts your embrace, folding his arms around your waist gently and resting his forehead in the crook of your neck. His skin is burning hot against yours, his arms still trembling.

“I could never be afraid of you,” you whisper. “I could never be afraid of the man who has protected me and cherished me. You have treated me so gently, so tenderly all these months. Never once has it crossed my mind to be frightened of your strength.” You press a kiss to his shoulder, then the side of his neck. “I take pride in having the heart of a man so strong, so capable. I know you would never hurt me.”

He shifts you in his arms, lifting you slightly to align more easily against his body. You can feel the deep, shuddering breath he draws while he thinks about your words. “I would never mean to hurt you,” he replies, “but in a dream, I cannot tell the difference between memory and reality.”

“I believe you would be able to keep yourself from truly hurting me,” you reassure him, threading your fingers into his hair at the base of his neck. He reacts to your touch with a hand sliding up your back to cradle you closer to his chest.

“And if I could not?” he whispers in response, his lips pressing against the sensitive skin of your neck. “If I should wake and find you dead by my hand?”

You shake your head, feeling tears spring to your eyes. Any fear you felt in the moment while he was holding you down is completely gone, lost in the tender embrace he holds you in now. “I do not believe the gods would allow such a thing to happen. Not to you. Not to us.”

He releases a shaky breath, one that glides across the exposed skin of your neck. He ducks his head to press a kiss to your collarbone, letting his lips linger there in a way that makes you shiver in his arms. “I am honored by your trust.”

You smile in response, dragging your fingertips lightly down his sides, over the deep scar that slices down his ribs. “I could never trust another man on earth as I do you,” you reply. “My only fear is that I may drown in the love I see in your eyes every day.”

He kisses your collarbone again in response, then moves upward slowly, pressing his lips to the soft hollow of your throat, then the underside of your jaw at your pulse point. Lifting you up effortlessly with his hands hooked under your arms, he repositions you so that you’re straddling him.

He then rests his fingertips, feather-light this time, against the sides of your neck. He strokes his fingers over each mark they left, then presses the softest of kisses against each one. Goosebumps break over your skin at the intimacy of his actions, of the wordless apology in every touch.

He lowers his forehead against yours, eyes closed as he breathes you in. “I do not know what blind fortune allowed me to find you,” he murmurs, touching his lips softly against the corner of your mouth, “but I thank them every moment for the gift of holding you like this.”

At your affectionate smile, he finally gives you the ghost of one in return, though his eyes are still haunted. You suspect that he will retain that haunted look for some time, no matter how many reassurances you offer.

As the intensity of the last while calms, he shifts you in his arms again, cradling you gently and laying you back against the pillows. He leans up on one arm, facing you, and you reach up a hand to stroke the side of his face. His expression softens again, giving you a look of utter fondness and devotion that makes your heart melt.

He leans forward slowly, as if asking your permission, and you gladly grant it. His lips touch yours with a gentle brush, then a bit more pressure. His tongue slides across yours in the way that always sends shivers up your spine, and one of his hands reaches up to stroke your hair, the other resting lightly on your waist. He kisses you once, twice, three times, each one more tender than the last, then lets his lips linger against yours for a moment more.

“I love you,” he says softly that you barely hear it, but rather feel it against your mouth.

“I love you,” you return, “more than I can say.”

One last kiss, and he finally lays down beside you, his face mere inches from yours and his arm folded across your waist. He takes his time in going back to sleep, choosing instead to gaze at your profile in the soft moonlight, but sleep finally takes him. And when you finally close your eyes, content to sleep peacefully beside him again, it’s to the sound of his even breathing and the warmth of his protective embrace.

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More of my fanfiction if you're so inclined :)

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ohworm-writes · 1 year ago

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When the girls say to treat yourself, they mean treat yourself.

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sh1mmer-add1ct · 2 years ago

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i have. So many things I could say Abt this man.

But he pretty

Giggling kicking my feet twirling my hair etc etc

#I WANNA KISS HIM SO BAD #*NEED TO #THE. AUDACITY. HE HAS TO BE FICTIONAL GAAAHHHH #not fair I want a pretty bf #I wanna cover his face in lipstick stains and then kiss him on the lips so there's lipstick on his lips and then #-he can cover MY face in lipstick stains. (endless cycle <3)#I also. Need. To get him another puppy. So noodle isn't lonely. And. He can play with them both #I wanna carry him around like a pretty princess bc he deserves it and everything in the world. I wanna get him that expensive wine he likes #And then take care of him when he's drunk #And giggle at how clingy he is while drunk bc he's a clingy drunk #I wanna listen to his voice all day it's so FUCKING hot I wanna whisper sweet nothings in his ear and watch his cheeks turn red #GODDDDD I wanna comfort him after a long day and hold him when he needs to cry and give him all the love and affection he didn't get before #f/o: chuuya nakahara #c.n anti gravity

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n1daehodefender · 2 months ago

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Their reactions of you telling them you want to start trying for a baby!

Contains: Kang dae-ho, Nam gyu, thanos

A/N: This is inspired by @svetamillss post about their headcanons of you telling them you want a baby so creditis to them!!!

Warnings: Discussions about starting a family, emotional vulnerability, mentions of trauma, and varying reactions to the concept of having children.

Kang Dae-ho

Golden Retriever Boyfriend Energy: Kang Dae-ho is the type of boyfriend who radiates warmth, kindness, and endless patience. He grew up in a household with four sisters, so he’s very attuned to emotional cues and naturally supportive. He adores you, always making sure you feel loved and safe, and he frequently daydreams about your future together.

Initial Reaction to You Asking About a Baby: When you bring up the idea of starting a family, Dae-ho freezes mid-bite of his food (because you’re probably asking during a casual, comfortable moment at home). His first instinct is to make sure he heard you correctly.

“Wait… like a baby? As in… a mini-you or me running around the house?” His voice wavers slightly, caught between surprise and excitement.

Once he processes what you’re asking, his face lights up with a mixture of joy and nervousness. He’s wanted this, but he never wanted to pressure you.

Vulnerability and Deep Conversations: That evening, he sits you down for a heartfelt talk. Dae-ho takes the idea seriously, wanting to ensure that you’re both ready for the challenges and joys of parenthood.

“You know I’d love nothing more than to be a dad… but I need to know how you’re feeling about it. Are you scared? Excited? Both?” He wants to make sure you’ve thought about every angle, not because he doubts you, but because he cares so deeply.

He also opens up about his past, talking about how his sisters shaped his view of family. “Growing up, I always thought about what kind of parent I’d want to be. And my dad-,… I don’t ever want to be that kind of dad.”

Planning and Reassurance: Dae-ho is the type to throw himself wholeheartedly into the idea once he knows you’re on the same page. He starts researching baby books, looks into parenting classes, and even asks his sisters for advice.

He’s also incredibly tender and protective of you, ensuring you feel supported every step of the way. “You know I’m here, right? Whatever happens, we’re in this together.”

Moments of Humor and Excitement: He’s already imagining what your child might look like, joking about how he hopes they get your eyes or your laugh. He gets especially sentimental at night, cuddling you close and whispering, “Can you imagine how much we’re going to love them?”

Nam Gyu

Nam Gyu is thoughtful and introspective, the kind of partner who expresses his love through actions more than words. He’s fiercely protective of you, always ensuring your needs are met, and though he isn’t outwardly affectionate, his love for you runs deep.

When you bring it up, Nam Gyu’s face remains stoic, but his hands clench slightly on the table. He’s taken aback—not because he doesn’t want children, but because the idea forces him to confront his own fears and insecurities.

“You want… a child? With me?” His voice is low, almost hesitant. He’s struggling to process what this means for both of you.

Nam Gyu worries about the world you’d bring a child into, especially given his experiences. He’s seen how cruel life can be, and the thought of exposing a child to that terrifies him.

“I don’t want them to grow up feeling… helpless,” he confesses later that night. “I’ve seen too much. What if I can’t protect them? What if I fail them?”

Despite his fears, he can’t help but picture a future where your child inherits your strength and his quiet resilience.

Nam Gyu takes time to process the idea, but he eventually comes to you with a clear decision.

“If this is what you want, I’ll do everything in my power to be the best father I can be. I just… need you to be patient with me.”

He’s cautious but willing, showing his commitment through small actions: building a crib, researching schools, and learning how to cook meals for a growing family.

Nam Gyu becomes even more attentive and protective of you, always keeping a hand on your back when you’re out together and ensuring you’re never overexerting yourself. His love deepens in ways he didn’t think were possible

Thanos (Su-bong)

Thanos is the life of the party, always cracking jokes and keeping the mood light. But beneath his humor is a man who has endured pain and loss, which makes him cherish you all the more. He’s your biggest cheerleader, constantly reminding you how amazing you are.

When you bring up the idea, Thanos immediately bursts into laughter—not because he’s mocking you, but because he’s genuinely shocked and unsure how to process his emotions.

“You’re serious? Like… you want a little Thanos running around? Or maybe a mini-you with your brains and my charm?”

Emotional Vulnerability: Later, when the reality sinks in, he becomes more serious. Thanos isn’t afraid to admit his fears, and he opens up about his past struggles.

“I’ve lost so much, you know? The idea of having something—someone—so precious… it scares the hell out of me. But you… you make me believe it’s possible.”

He confesses his deepest fear: losing you or the child. “I don’t know what I’d do if something went wrong, but if this is what you want… I’m in. No questions asked.”

Thanos approaches the idea of parenthood with his signature humor, making you laugh during otherwise emotional moments.

“Do you think they’ll inherit my good looks or your stubbornness? Or maybe both—poor kid’s doomed either way.”

He starts brainstorming ridiculous baby names and jokingly practices “dad jokes” to prepare for the role.

Beneath his playful exterior, Thanos shows a side of himself that’s deeply emotional and committed. He talks to your belly long before you’re even pregnant, promising the baby a life filled with love, laughter, and bad jokes.

“They’re going to have the best life because they’ll have you as a mom. And I’ll do everything I can to make sure they know how much they’re loved.”

#kang dae ho #kang dae ho x reader #squid game #squid game 2 #squid game x reader #nam gyu #thanos #thanos squid game #nam gyu x reader #thanos x reader #fluff #squid game 2 x reader

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reiderwriter · 1 year ago

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Little Angel

Pairing: Spencer Reid × virgin!fem reader

Genre: SMUT, some fluff, a little tiny smidge of angst. MINORS DNI 18+

Summary: As the youngest and most innocent member of the BAU, they all take care of their little angel. When they find out just how innocent you are, though, one member takes his possession to the next level. You're his little angel, and he's determined to have you.

Warnings: loss of virginity, loss of innocence, degradation, pet names, oral sex, thigh riding, fingering, cum marking, love bites, Spencer is territorial and possessive, Dom! Spencer Reid, PinV sex, mentions breeding, but he pulls out.

A/N: We've reached Day 8 of kinktober! It's our second "long" fic, meaning there's a bit more plot to this, and the smut scene is longer too (WC is almost 7k!) I hope you love this one just as much as I did... The kinktober masterlist can be found here, and my regular masterlist is here too! If you want something specific, my requests are open ❤️

Your first three months with the BAU were a blur, and for good reason. Endless cases, back-to-back, interrupted only by the slight hint of a weekend or the ever possible death row interview. You were tired, stressed, and afraid to walk home alone at night, and absolutely satisfied. As far as you were concerned, it was all worth it to get these monsters off the streets, to help save their victims and to find out what made them tick. There was nothing else you'd rather be doing.

The team had helped you settle in well, too. You'd joined the team after Alex Blake had left - she'd recommended you actually from the college seminars you'd taken with her. You were obviously lacking a bit of experience, so they took on two team members, and you and Kate Callahan had the great opportunity of both being the newbie. But you had a slight disadvantage of age, coming in as the youngest member of the team. You thought that might be why you'd settled in so well, in all honesty.

Hotch and Rossi were both protective in a fatherly way. Hotch pushed you and Rossi encouraged you and that was everything you needed from them. A strong pat on the back at the end of a case and a "you did good, kid," and whatever hell they'd pushed you through, it was worth it. Morgan's tough love was brotherly, but he did a great job at getting you to relax on and off the case, reminding you to not take the work home. JJ and Kate were great mentors. It wasn't easy being women in the FBI, let alone the unit that specifically looked into some of the most misogynistic killings, rapes and abductions in the world. They both gave you tips about how to handle condescending officers, and JJ had held your hair back after you'd puked your guts up on a particularly harrowing day in the field. With Penelope, friendship was easy, and you loved talking to her about whatever hyperfixation you were on that week, loving that there was someone on your team that had filled their life with genuine joy in the face of so much horror.

And Spencer. Honestly, you were beginning to think that you'd used Spencer as a human stuffed toy a bit too much.

You don't know how it happened at first, just that after one of your first few cases, you'd been so elated to find a victim alive, safe but traumatised, that you'd thrown yourself into his arms the minute you got back to the precinct.

"We did it, I thought she was going to be dead, Spencer but she isn't." Your head was pressed into his chest, you were almost surprised he even heard them, muffled as they were. If you weren't so elated, you'd have noticed the way he'd stiffened at your touch, panicking slightly before awkwardly wrapping his arms around you, too. But you pulled away before you could notice that he wasn't really used to any physical comfort, bouncing off to write up your case report.

Spencer noticed, though. Noticed how the heat of your body made him feel comforted, the way his heart rate increased to 125 BPM from it's base rate and didn't fall back to normal for another half hour. He noticed that you smelt like jasmine and patchouli, and more importantly, he noticed that he didn't really care if you touched him, and that was new.

It became a kind of ritual for you, finding him after a case and folding into his arms to celebrate. They were friendly hugs, after all, a sign that you'd been through hell together, and you'd made it through like avenging angels. They only lingered longer when the cases went badly. You turned to crying in his arms after you'd discovered the body of a dead street girl, Veronica, in pieces in the house of an unsub who'd committed suicide by cop moments earlier.

"I told her she'd be safe if she talked to us, Reid. I told her we'd protect her, that I'd protect her." You were so hurt by that failure that he'd had to drive you home that night, holding your hand the entire way so you didn't feel so alone, left to fester in your guilt.

The rest of the team had begun teasing you about the hugs, but you'd brushed them off. You hugged everyone else too, and you knew for a fact that Penelope hugged every member of the team, so there was nothing special going on between you and Spencer. No one had deigned to inform you of Spencer's germophobia and aversion to touch.

"Gonna tell me what that's all about?" Morgan asked Spencer as you bounced away from a hug one day, leaving to remove your FBI vest.

"What what's all about?" He replied coldly, turning away to remove his own vest, replacing it with his blazer.

"What, you don't have a statistic for how many germs are passed between people during a hug, Kid, come on, you were practically smelling her hair." The older man's eyebrows raised in a question again, but Spencer continued to blow him off.

"I hug people all the time, it's not a big deal." He shrugged.

"It took you four years to return one of Penelope's hugs, and you still only do that on special occasions. That's not all the time."

"Derek, just drop it. There's nothing going on, she just… She just does it sometimes."

It was when you'd hugged him in the middle of the office, without a case to use as an excuse, that you noticed an underlying tension in the office. You were all celebrating, of course, Callahan had just announced her pregnancy, and you were all so happy for her. You'd heard the happy news and instantly turned and thrown yourself into Spencer's arms. Even you weren't sure why, not even questioning it until you saw the awkward glances on the other profilers' faces. You brushed it off by rushing to give each of them hugs, and running out in a mad flush, needing air, or water or something to get you out of what was looking more and more like an interrogation room.

A few cases later, the entire team headed to O'Keefe's to celebrate.

"To another case successfully solved," Morgan toasted, and you all joined him, lifting your glasses in triumph.

"To the wonders of non-alcoholic beer," chimed in Kate, leaving you all laughing together. The booth was small, and as usual, you'd found yourself sat right in the arms of Spencer Reid. You hadn't intended it, honestly, having slightly avoided him recently, but you'd followed Penelope into her side of the circular table, and Reid had followed you. You were sat squished between them, your arms resting awkwardly on your lap between drinks.

"Okay, a night of drinking is slightly boring without some games to spice things up, what do you say, hot chocolate?" Penelope said, addressing Morgan who was on her other side.

"I'm all ears, baby girl. What were you thinking?"

"How about twenty questions? We already know a lot about each other, let's see what we don't know?" Kate suggested, thriving off of the knowledge that as the sole sober member present, she'd hold all the cards tomorrow.

"What, how is asking questions a game?" Reid questioned jokingly from beside you. "That's just an interrogation or a therapy session, there's no winner or loser."

Already slightly buzzing from your drink, you turned to him and out your fingers in his lips, shushing him.

"No time for logic in matters of the bottle, Spencer. Let's play." He pulled your fingers off him, but nodded, holding them in his grip still as you turned back to the table.

"I'll start! JJ, are you and Will thinking of having more baby LaMontagne's?" Penelope jumped at the chance to probe her teammate, and you laughed at her enthusiasm.

"There have been discussions, but I'll not confirm or deny yet." JJ said, taking a sip of her drink as she slyly avoided a direct answer.

"I always forget why you were so good with the press, Miss No Answers. Okay, your turn to ask a question."

"Okay, Morgan. Are you thinking of popping the question to Savannah anytime soon?"

"Did she send you?" He laughed and took a drink. "If I do, she'll be the first to know."

The game went back and forth like this for a few rounds before Penelope turned the spotlight back to you.

"Okay, Y/N. You were a college student recently, I know you've got some wild stories. Where's the craziest place you've ever done it?" You knew Penelope didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. She was just an open person.

But you shifted in your seat nonetheless, trying to figure out if you could answer or even if you would. Your tongue was a bit looser than you expected though, because before you could even finish thinking you just blurted it out.

"Nowhere."

The others blinked at you slightly before Penelope dived in with another question.

"Is that Nowhere, Oaklahoma, or you're just not having sex in crazy places?"

"No. I'm not… I'm not having sex. Period. Never have." You felt yourself shrink as the other members of the team awkwardly apologised for probing you so much. Really it wasn't that big of a deal, and it wasn't as if you were saving it for religious or moral reasons. But you'd not been the most popular teenager, and you'd started studying serial killers and sociopaths so early that you really hadn't wanted to get so intimate with someone else like that.

Unbeknownst to you, Spencer's grip on his own drink had tightened ever so slightly, his heart race had picked up again, and suddenly the hand that was holding yours suddenly let you go, quietly dropping your fingers like they were glowing cinders, and he was dripping in gasoline, waiting to ignite.

Lust. He felt sick with himself for the images that were suddenly flashing through his mind now that he knew you'd never been held in that way, trying not to fantasise about you underneath him, holding him, begging him, feeling all of him. He took another swig of his drink and politely excused himself to get another as he let himself catch some air, as the sudden realization that he wanted you - and had wanted you for quite some time now - finally hit him.

The next couple of weeks were normal, and you were thankful to have that discussion behind you. No one treated you differently, acted like you were more of a child than before, asked you how your dating life was or set you up on blind dates, which was really refreshing actually. You'd let some friends know previously, and that's all they'd done, surprised that you could live ignorant to wonders of sex without shrivelling up and dying.

The only thing that was different was Spencer. And that wasn't really difference so much as growing more comfortable with each other. He'd rest his hand on the small of your back now in support sometimes, or have a hand slung over the back of your chair when sitting together. He was constantly at your side, especially if you were around male suspects or officers who'd taken a bit of a ballsy approach.

You liked it, probably a bit too much. You gravitated towards him in a room filled with people, and found yourself hugging him more often, when you left a room, when you entered one, when he looked like he needed it. Which, recently, was all the time. A month went by with this increased comfort level, and soon you found yourself feeling wrong if his hands weren't on you.

He stood close to you all the time, and you noticed the stares you were getting from everyone else. A few officers who'd approach you would apologise to him when they noticed him at your back, hand on your hip as he pulled you away.

After one case, you could even swear that you felt more than him than you were expecting. He'd moved away slightly in between one of your hugs, but you'd pulled his arms back around you and stepped closer, pressing your back against his chest, letting your head rest on his arms. Something hard and long wedged up against your ass, and in a split second he was pulling away before you could ask him about it. He excused himself, and you felt your body burn up. It was Spencer, it was just Spencer and that wasn't because of you, it was some other reason.

Spencer didn't know what he was doing. He grew more possessive over you by the day, and he'd honestly nearly bitten the head off an officer who asked him for your number.

"Sorry, she doesn't have a phone."

"But I saw her with one earlier. Look I get it she's FBI, and you guys are-"

"Okay, so she's not interested."

"Hey, why don't you let her decide that wise guy?"

"Oh sure, get angry I'm sure she'd love that. She's not interested, she has me." He couldn't help himself from getting in the officers face at that, and Morgan had to pull him back from the edge.

"Wow, wow, hey, calm down." The officer stormed out, and he felt triumphant for only a second before Morgan rounded on him.

"Whatever this thing you've got going on, Spencer, you need to get it out of your system as soon as possible." His voice was low and stern, throwing a glance over his shoulder to where you were sitting, staring confusedly through the glass at Spencer, whose eyes refused to move from your own.

" I just wanted him to back off, she doesn't like him like that."

"No, you wanted him to back off because you've marked her like some animal marking its territory. She's not your prey, Spencer, she's our team member, now you're gonna have to get your act together and leave her alone, because we've got work to do."

Sighing and throwing his hands through his hair again, he finally looked away from you and gathered his breath. He wanted to stop this too, this horrible perverted feeling of needing his hands on you, wanting to possess you day and night. To protect you. He just wasn't sure if he was strong enough to do that.

The next time you all went to O'Keefe's he certainly tried. You expected him to follow you into the booth again - he didn't, sitting opposite you next to JJ. You expected him to talk to you or look at you for more than a second at a time - he didn't, avoiding most conversations entirely and keeping his eyes fixed on the bar. You certainly expected him to still be sat at the table when you returned from the bathroom, ready to slip into the seat beside him, force him to talk to you. Instead he was gone, and you scanned the rest of the bar trying to locate him.

Something green and vile jumped you when you finally locked onto him, stood at the bar, surrounded by other women. Surrounded was maybe an exaggeration, as there were really only two of them, but they were practically draping themselves over him, and for some reason that set something alight inside of you.

You watched them for a moment, how one of them trailed a hand up his arm as he shuddered away from their touch, the other pressing herself against the bar so her chest pushed up dramatically. The green bile in your throat carried your feet forwards, and before you knew it, you were clearing it from your throat to grab their attentions.

"Spencer, there you are!" You brightened your tone specifically, as you locked eyes with his panicked ones. The two girls looked you up and down as you moved closer, brushing past them to climb up right into his lap on the barstool, pulling his arm around you as you pressed your ass into his crotch.

"Are you going to introduce me to your new friends?" The smile didn't reach your eyes as you let your back rest against his chest comfortably, watching the women to see their reactions. The one touching him pulled her arm back instantly, and the other readjusted her dress before they both left silently, carrying their glasses back to wherever they came from.

You watched them leave a little triumphantly before the green faded, and you realised what you had done.

"Y/N…?" His voice was hesitant in your ear, and you shivered slightly before pushing off of him.

"I'm so sorry, Spence, it just- it… looked like you were hard." You panicked again, pushing closer to him. "No, like you were in a hard situation, not that you were," your hand accidentally dropped to his crotch as you spoke your final words: "Hard."

He twitched beneath you as you finally looked down to where your hand was, as his mouth opened to say something.

"Y/N…" was all you heard before you turned around, and fast walked to the entrance, picking your bag up quickly on the way, and then sprinted the second the cold air hit your face.

You cursed yourself inwardly as you ran the three blocks more to your apartment, thankful that you were at least in walking (or apparently running) distance. What the hell had you been thinking? Practically sexually harassing one of your coworkers like that, grabbing his dick, albeit accidentally.

You slammed your door shut behind you, leaning against it and sliding to the floor as you finally accepted that whatever this was with Reid, it wasn't friendship for you anymore. And you weren't sure if it had ever been.

With your head between your legs, arms wrapped tightly around yourself, you started replaying each moment with him, each touch from the very first. How even the memory of a brush past you could excite a fire in your heart, a heat between your legs growing by the second.

You wanted to crawl pathetically into bed and not think about him until the next morning at work, but fate, or Doctor Spencer Reid, had other plans.

The knock at your door was sudden and incessant, the banging starting loud, and staying consistent until you tentatively pulled it open.

He was stood there, chest heaving, looking down at you, sweat coating his forehead.

"Can I… Come in?" He asked, and you nodded, too stunned at his sudden appearance to tell if this was real or just your fantasy becoming a little too realistic.

He thanked you for letting him inside, and you showed him inside, guiding him to he couch, where you took a seat opposite him.

"I wanted to make sure you were okay, you left in a rush and…" He trailed off, eyes flicking down to your lips. His Adam's apple bobbed with his swallow, and you watched it yourself, trying to avoid meeting his eyes, as if you were a schoolgirl about to get in trouble with a disappointed teacher.

"I'm okay."

"Okay, that's great, that's… Great." His breaths caught up to him, and he took another deep breath and a swallow before continuing. "How about we continue that game from last time. Twenty questions?"

You'd do anything to stop him walking out of that door, but you felt too shy to touch him again, even in the friendly ways you were used to, so you eagerly accepted.

"Yes, that… That sounds fun, thank you."

"Okay. Question one. Do you know why I'm here?" He asks as he shifts closer to you, still not touching, but at a proximity where it would be natural to accidentally brush against one another.

"N-No. But I might have an idea." He nodded at your response before moving on to his next question.

"Question two. Are you a virgin?" He didn't trip or stumble over the words, pushing them out slowly and delicately so as not to offend.

"Yes." The lump in your throat was thick, almost as if he'd put something there that you couldn't help but choke on.

"Question three. Do you want to remain a virgin?"

You shook your head no, following it with your voice seconds later as he stood up from his seat, putting some distance between you.

"Question four. Do you feel intoxicated or drunk right now?" He held himself still as you sat on the very edge of your chair, desperate to feel his hands on you now.

"No, I only had one sip at the bar before…" He held up a hand to silence you, and you did.

Question five. Answer me honestly. Do you like it when I touch you?"

"Yes." Your breath was a whisper, but it was breathy, sounding almost pornographic in your neediness.

"Question six. Do you like it when other people touch you?"

"Do you?" His head snapped back to yours, and you froze under his gaze. "Not as much." You answered and relaxed again, pouting slightly at his lack of answer.

"Question seven. Do you like me touching other people?" He took a step closer to you again with this question, but you continued pouting as you shook your head.

"No. I don't." His lips quirked upwards before he could stop them, but he gathered himself together again.

"Question eight. Do you want me to leave?" You met his eyes at that question, taking one good, hard, long look at him. You noted the tensed jaw, the clenched fists, his stiff body language, trailing your eyes over him before looking him directly in the eyes.

"No." You let the word hang on your tongue, pulling it out a bit longer than was necessary as you watched him take in a shaky breath.

"Question nine. Do you want me to come over there and kiss you?"

"God, yes." He was on you in seconds, restraints gone, throwing himself back at you as his lips collided with your own. Virgin you may be, but you'd kissed men before, and it had been nothing like this.

His hands trailed up to your hair, tipping your head back slightly so he could gain better access. He bit your lip and thrust his tongue into your mouth when you gasped, so eager to consume every part of you whole.

You'd never felt like this before.

He pulled away, and you tried desperately to chase his lips, even as your lungs begged you to stop.

"Last question," he whispered in the space between you, holding the sides of your face at a distance so neither of you could be tempted to dive in for a second kiss, or a third, or fourth. "Do you want me to fuck you?" You whimpered at his words, nodding furiously as you tried to lunge at him again, but he held you firm.

"I need you to say your answer, baby. I need to hear your consent, okay?" You nod again and open your mouth, eyes never leaving his lips as you moan out a definitive "yes."

Instead of letting your lips fall against his again, he lunges for you, grabbing your legs and hauling you up into his arms, carrying you bridal style all the way back to your bedroom.

"Gonna do it right," he mutters to himself as he throws you down on the bed, pulling back to take off his jacket and unbutton the cuffs on his shirt, rolling the sleeves up meticulously.

"I'm going to take care of you, Y/N, okay?" You nod at him and flush, suddenly feeling the strength of his need for you as he holds himself back. He puts his hands on you again, gently coaxing your legs apart, pushing your skirt up over your hips. Reflexively, you move your hands over yourself, covering your sensitive places with your hands.

"Don't cover yourself." His voice is strong, deep, as he orders you, and you let your arms drop back to your side. He traces his hands up and down your legs, almost as if he were memorising every inch of your skin, how you felt under his hands.

His hands make their way up to your panties, and you watch with baited breath as he moves you, pulling your hips up so he can let them fall down. The lace material tickles you as he pushes them past your thighs, over your knees and finally off your legs entirely, balling them up and putting them in his pocket.

"I'm going to touch you now, okay?" He asks it like a question, but he doesn't wait for your answer, unable to hold himself back before diving straight between your legs, so desperate to taste you that he's deaf to everything else.

His tongue connects with your sensitive area first, tracing up and down at a steady pace as his legs half-heartedly push your legs open. It's almost as if he's enjoying the pressure of your legs wrapped around him, suffocating between your thighs as he feels your pleasure build, and build.

Eventually he pushes your hips further apart, letting himself push his face into even more of you, his tongue entering your hole as he begins fucking it in and out of you, fingers coming back up to your clit to keep up the pressure there.

"Spencer, please, please, fuck."

"I love it when you beg for me like a needy little slut," he whispers, holding your legs apart as he looked up at you, face slick with your arousal. Your mouth drops wide at his words, and he immediately begins to retract them.

"I'm sorry, Y/N, if that was too far, I just got caught up -"

"I liked it." You said, quieting him as you spread your legs a bit further apart, begging for him to continue. He smiled and dived right back in, bringing his other hand up under your dress, all the way to your chest as you kept your legs open yourself.

He sucked your clit into his mouth, lapping up all the juices you were releasing as you moaned underneath him, bucking into his face at the memory of his degradation.

You were a needy little slut, and you needed him to make you cum. He was more than happy to oblige.

He kept you there for what felt like forever, drinking you in for as long as he could. You orgasmed twice before he finished, completely overstimulated by the way he was desperately fucking you with his mouth.

He was obsessed with you, with your scent, your taste, with being the first ever person to ever touch you like this, to fuck you, to make you feel so good. Without him even realising, you're pushed to the brink for a second time, shuddering under the heat of his mouth as he drinks you in.

He finally pulls his head up again, coming up for air as you're twitching under him.

"Perfect, baby, so perfect for me." His lips fall down to your own, and suddenly you're tasting yourself on his tongue. It's hypnotising, and despite the pleasure you've just received, you need more, desperate to feel him on you again.

When he pulls his mouth away, he replaces himself with his fingers, pushing them into your mouth.

"Suck," he says and you listen, as he watches the way you lick yourself off of him.

He unzips your dress with his free hand, carefully pulling your arms out of the sleeves and pushing your dress off your body. You trace your tongue around every ridge of his fingers, leaving no inch undiscovered. He moved you to pull the dress of, and you graciously followed, letting him do whatever he wanted to you.

"Nice little slut, tasting herself on my fingers?" He whispered when you were finally bare, pulling his fingers from your mouth, letting the trail of spit hang between you as you moaned.

He removed himself from over you, and moved to sit on the edge of the bed.

"Come here. Come and sit on my lap."

You cautiously followed his directions. You'd thought that he'd fuck you then, after spending so long getting you ready, but apart from his tie, which he was in the middle of discarding as you crawled over to him, he hadn't derobed any further.

"That's it baby, come and sit yourself down right here." He pat his thigh and you crawled over, lowering yourself down onto his clothed leg.

"What now, Spencer?" You stuttered the words out, heart beating as you awaited his instructions.

"Now, I want you to rock your hips back and forth. Just like this." He grabbed your hips and started moving you against his leg, pushing you down to grind into him.

"Spencer, wait, I don't know-"

"I do. I know you can do it, so please try. For me." You pulled you in for a kiss, and then removed his hands from you, leaving you to rock against his thigh.

You were unsure of the movements at first, moving slowly as you dragged your aching cunt up and down the top of his pants, watching as you saw the wet patch you were making. You moaned with each movement, growing faster and more confident as you continued.

"That's it baby, use me to get yourself off, okay? Let me see you." He whispered in your ears, pushing your sweat-slicked hair ou of your face, holding it up for you.

"Spencer please," you don't even know what you're asking for as you beg him, feeling that familiar bubble in your stomach grow.

"No, you can do it. You look so beautiful like this, Y/N, so desperate for my cock, huh?" You start trying to unbutton his shirt, desperate to see more of him, to feel more of his bare skin on your own. But he stops your hands and holds them against his chest.

"You need to ask nicely first, before trying to undress me like a needy little whore." The words should sound violent, should humiliate you, but his voice is so soft you simply move faster, moaning and desperate to cum one more time.

"Fuck, Spencer, I'm gonna… I'm gonna…"

"No, you're not." Before you finish, he pulls you off his leg, hauling your body back onto the bed, and laying you back down on your back. You moan in disapproval, so frustrated with the lack of release that you feel tears prick the corners of your eyes.

"Don't cry, baby. I'll give you what you want soon." He practically rips his clothes off, pulling his vest over his head, stumbling over each button and removing his belt and pants before climbing over to you. His cock finally free you take your first glance at it.

You'd never entirely been sure how it was that the male appendage fit inside something as small as your pussy, and you were doubly unsure about how Spencer's was ever going to fit inside you. You stared at it wide eyed, as you took in the length, the girth, and the heat of it as he stroked it in one hands, pushing on top of you.

He let go of it as soon as he was between your legs, letting it fall onto your stomach as he crawled between your legs. He trailed a finger over your lower abdomen just around where his cock was twitching against you as his other hand came up to stroke your hair.

"You look worried, Y/N, what's wrong?"

"Will it, um, will it fit?" You asked, knowing how cliché you sounded.

"We've spent the last thirty-seven minutes loosening you up with foreplay. It should fit, but I can't promise it won't hurt."

"Right, if my hymen is still intact you have to…"

"That's right. And then it's going to reach all the way in you to here," with each word, he stepped his fingers up from your clit to where the tip of his dick sat on your stomach, letting you come to terms with exactly how full you were about to be.

"I'm going to fill you, and you're going to be mine, and I'm going to be yours. My sweet angel." He stroked your face, catching his thumb on your lips on the way down, tempted to thrust it into your mouth again, to see just how much of a whore you could be, given the chance.

Instead, he lined himself up with your dripping core, and, making sure one last time that this is what you wanted, slowly pushed in.

It was uncomfortable at first, having something so wholly alien inside of you, you weren't sure how to react. You wrapped your arms around him, digging your nails in, deep, as he pushed in further.

"Y/N, I need to move more now, and it's going to hurt a little, you just have to trust me, okay?" He kissed the top of your head, but you were so lost in the sensations to answer. With one swift jerk of his hips, he pushed through your hymen, and fully sheathed himself inside of you. He pressed small kisses everywhere on your face, while whispering to you how beautiful you were.

"You're doing so good for me angel, I'm going to take care of you. Going to make you feel so much better than this. You're so beautiful." His lips were distractingly sweet, as were his words, and soon you found yourself relaxing into him, the sharp pain of earlier fading to an electric buzz inside of you.

You jerked your hips up to meet his, and with that, he knew you were ready. From his words, you'd assumed that he'd move slowly in you. But with one final lingering kiss to your lips, he lifted his chest up, pinned your legs tightly down, and started thrusting hard and fast.

"Sorry, just couldn't help myself baby. Needed to see you looking ruined underneath me." Moans spilled out of your mouth with his every movement, and the orgasm you'd built up earlier hit you like a ton of bricks, blackness hazing over your eyes as they rolled back in your head.

"Fuck, fuck, Spencer, don't stop!" You screamed at the top of your lungs, unable to control your pitch or volume as he slammed into you desperately. He was so turned on by the sight of you beneath him, so proud of having fucked away your virginity, to have given you your very first penetrative orgasm that he wouldn't have heard anything that came out of your mouth.

His eyes were fixated at the place between you, where you joined, where he was entering you, defiling you, claiming you, using you, breeding you.

He knew he wouldn't cum inside of you, not the first time, but it was tempting. Instead, he chose to move his lips back to your skin. He marked you with love bites and hickeys across your neck, chest and shoulders as you moaned with every roll of his hips, shuddering on his cock. He was close. And seeing you like this, displaying all the signs that you were his and his only, he finally lost it.

Pulling his dick out of you, he stroked it through his release, spraying his seed over the parts of your skin he hadn't bruised with love. Your stomach, your breasts, hell, one spurt even landed dangerously close to your lips, he was everywhere. You. Were. His.

He fell beside you, panting for a few moments as you finally cracked your eyes back open, realising what the two of you had just done. You wiped the cum from your face with a stray finger, staring at it for a second before licking it off your finger.

"As hot as that was, I think we should get you cleaned up properly, angel." He spends forever cleaning you up, carrying you to the bathroom, washing your entire body with hot water and a fresh cloth, running you a hot bath to relax your muscles. You snuggle into his chest at some point in the bath, relaxing so much into him, that you drift off to sleep.

You feel him carry you to bed, semi-conscious, tucking you in and climbing in next to you. He holds you through the night, the way he holds you after your bad cases. He holds you until he doesn't.

You're blindsided by the cold bed the next morning. You knew he would be there, you'd felt him inside you and next to you, and you'd needed his warmth, but he was gone. You looked for him in every other part of your home, looked for a note or an explanation, but there wasn't one.

Through tears, you got ready for work, ready to face him and make him answer why he was suddenly gone. You wanted him to apologise, especially since he'd marked you so badly the night before you looked like a car crash victim from the neck down.

Dark lavender blossomed along your collar bones as you looked at yourself in the mirror, trailing a finger along every place that he touched the night before.

"How could you be so stupid?" You cursed yourself. If you'd have listened to what he was saying last night, really listened, you'd have known he wasn't going to be here in the morning. He wanted to ruin you, to possess you, to take away your virginity, and he'd done just that.

You almost wanted to keep the bruises on display going into work, to make him confront the pain he caused you by leaving. In the end, it was the inevitable stares from everyone else that convinced you otherwise. You wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

You pushed through the doors to the bullpen and didn't bother putting your bag down before you started scanning the room for him.

"Where's Spencer?" You practically shouted the words at Morgan, unable to hold back your anger.

"Y/N, what's wrong?"

"Where is he?" You demand, and there must be something in your eyes that speaks to your devastation because Morgan shuts up and just points to the top of the stairs, where Spencer is exiting Hotch's office without a care in the world.

You don't realise that something is tears until you're beating a hand against his chest in frustration as they spill down your face.

"Where were you?" You demand, sobbing into his chest, as he pulls your hands away. The entire office is watching your commotion, but you don't care, you're not letting him move you out of the way.

"Y/N, I need you to sign this." His voice is calm, and you hate him for that. That he can stay so neutral when he's just broken your heart.

"No, not until you tell me why you left."

"Sign the papers, Y/N, trust me." He pulls your chin up so you can look him in the eye, and you catch a glimpse of the man who has been holding you, comforting you for the last four months. You snatch the pen from him and sign the papers, thrusting them back at him with a scowl.

He smiles as he looks down at them, placing them back on his desk before pulling you in for a long, deep kiss. You're shocked at first, but you melt into it, pulling him closer so he can't leave again.

"I'm sorry. I had to come into the office to declare our relationship, Morgan sometimes tells me I have a one track mind, and when I woke up this morning, the one thing I wanted to do was get it in writing that you were mine."

Your push the tears out of his face, and attempt to pull him down for another kiss. You don't get the chance, as the sound of several throats clearing around you burst your bubble.

"Public space, no canoodling." Rossi shouts down at you from the balcony, a soft smirk on his face.

Penelope runs in from her office, and stares wide-eyed at the lack of space between the two of you. "You! And you! Security cameras….. You!"

"Now, I'm sure there's a story here, but from the state of our little angel's neck here, I'm sure I don't want to hear it." Derek laughs, smacking Spencer on the back in praise as he walks up the stairs to the meeting room.

You slap a hand over your neck, trying to pull the turtleneck further up to hide the mark you evidently missed.

"She's my angel, now." Spencer calls up to him. "I have the paperwork to prove it."

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cheezritsu · 3 months ago

Text

Itoshi Sae has far more feline traits than those narrow turquoise eyes of his. At the top of your notes app titled “I don’t need a cat, my boyfriend already is one,” is the fact that Sae will never, ever be clingy, will never ask for your touch, and is coy about romance as a whole—but he just has to be near you.

Manshine City is playing Ubers. Ubers cannot resist having a yellow card every time they step on the pitch, and Manshine City pisses Sae off more than even he knows. You’ll press him about that later, because he’s watching the match in your shared bedroom and not the living room television which is not only bigger, but louder like he likes. Why is he fixing your temperpedic to be a damn near 90 degree angle when there’s a perfectly good couch in another room?

“Who’s winning?” You call from the bathroom. You’ve chosen to grab a bar stool from the kitchen to make yourself comfortable as you part your hair into four sections. It’s a hard ritual, but it pays dividends; you noticed that you were shedding a lot less hair when you sat down and pre-detangled before the shower. And you were a little optimistic about your last style and ended up stretching it out a few days longer than you should have. The end result wouldn’t be good to your heart.

You’re half way through finger detangling your section when you realize Sae hasn’t answered you. You lean back, the open door to your bedroom allowing you to catch a glimpse of him. There’s something off about his expression—Sae’s normally indifferent looking, sure, but there is a harder frown etched into his face. And he’s not even looking at the game. He’s glaring at…the door frame?

“Babe,” you say, and it breaks his trance. He looks up at you, but you’ve once again disappeared from his line of sight. That lean back was killing your spine.

“Huh?”

“I asked who was winning.” You carefully two-strand twist the now slippery section together, then use an alligator clip to keep it off your back. It’s kind of crazy how long your hair is now compared to the beginning of the year. You take down your next section, looking up from your lap and-!

“Holy shit!”

Sae gives you an unimpressed look in the mirror. You look at his reflection instead of him when you demand “When did you get in here?”

“While you were daydreaming.”

The tv is off. Or it’s paused. The vacuum of silence is a little uncomfortable. You were doing your hair in an old tshirt; a reprint of Sae’s U20 match jersey. It would make plenty money on the internet, and here you were getting hair products all over it. Sae looks at the front of your shirt with a wrinkled nose. Other reasons your boyfriend is a cat: he needs a fucking collar, and he pulls faces instead of vocalizing.

“What are you doing?”

“My hair.”

You can see his roaming gaze trying to piece together the exact routine you have, but he’s struggling. Before another quip can leave his mouth you elaborate. “Pre-detagnling. That way when I wash my hair it has less breakage.” You squeeze your detangler into your hands and slather it into the wetted section of hair you were working on. “I wanna keep what little hair I have.”

You get a real reaction this time—a snort of disbelief. “You have more hair on your head than Aiku has on his entire body.”

You blink. “That’s not really a metric I’m privy too.”

“He’s like a gorilla. It’s gross.”

You hum, but you love Sae’s endless opinions. You can tell he still has some rattling around in his brain that he’s having trouble spitting out. Perhaps he’s finally using a filter around you, or he’s really trying to find just the right delivery to piss you off. It’s 50/50.

He finally settles on, “You hair has gotten really long,” as he’s transfixed by the quick motion of your digits twisting the hair into a long rope. When it drops against the side of your head and he sees where it reaches, he shakes his head. “Like, really long.”

“Thanks,” you smile, and warmth spreads in Sae’s chest. “Weren’t you watching the match?”

“I paused it.”

“Why?”

He doesn’t answer. “I thought long hair bothered you?”

“It does,” you answer slowly, really trying to keep up with this conversation. Sae pings questions at you like the midfielder he is, but this is a little too quick. “But I think when I was growing my hair out the first time I never shaped it, or did styles with it. There was this girl at a restaurant I went to, like, years ago when I was at the beach with my parents who had long natural hair. She had it pulled back in a satin scarf and had like two little front pieces sticking out.” You create the style by gesturing your hands over your head. Sae’s gaze melts, the usual hard line of his mouth settling into something content.

“She was so pretty.” You have a distant look on your face, and Sae doesn’t doubt you have that crystal clear memory in your head. “I wanted to be as pretty as her. But I didn’t really know what to do with my hair, and it has really hot all the time, so I cut it. I think about it all the time though.”

Sae acknowledges your story with a nod. He traces shape of your curls with his finger, careful not to pull too hard. A soft tug elongated the spiral, and then it snapped back.

“Your hair is beautiful,” Sae suddenly spits, making eye contact with you in the mirror. “I liked it when it was short, and it’s pretty now that it’s longer. I don’t know if I ever told you.”

He hasn’t. Not so bluntly, at least. Sae never needs to occupy his hands, so he doesn’t touch your hair at all, ever, but now he coils the strands around his finger like his own personal fidget. Something stupid balloons in you lungs and press hard against your ribcage. Pride, maybe? Love, probably. You twist your neck and the piece of hair slips from his grasp.

“‘Preciate it,” you reply, adopting his casual air to force down your excitement. Sae’s face stays the same though, and he even goes so far as to press a little kiss to your exposed shoulder blade. He must feel the heat of your skin, because a smirk curls across his face. Oh, you could kill him.

“Alright, alright,” you shoo him. “I gotta get to work. This is just the pre-wash, so I’m going to take a minute in here.”

“I could shower,” he says absently, and before you could even protest, Sae is opening the shower door, rearranging products around the wall to make sure your shampoo, conditioner and wide tooth comb are front and center. “It’ll be warm though, and not scalding hot like you like it.”

“Then don’t shower with me.”

The pipes turn on, Sae’s funger’s dipping under the water the check the temperature. “It’s bad for your skin anyways.”

You don’t even mention it. You probably will halfway through when he’s “unknowingly” doing your hair for you, but it could wait.

#I hate itoshi sae if yall were wondering #blue lock #bllk #bllk x you #bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #blue lock sae itoshi #bllk itoshi sae #itoshi sae #itoshi sae x reader #itoshi sae/reader #itoshi sae x you #itoshi sae x y/n #sae x reader #sae x y/n #sae x you #shout out to anyone who predetangles you’re a legend

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notlongtolove · 3 months ago

Text

like a lover

he doesn’t answer. he doesn’t even look at you again. he just shakes his head and walks into the bedroom. by the time you follow him, he’s sitting on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor like it holds the answer to whatever’s boiling inside him. fine. If he wants to ice you out, two can play that game.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader (second person, no y/n)

genre: hurt comfort

content: student!reader gets drunk after a brutal final and spencer is beyond mad. very brief mention of abduction. lowkey spencer is in the right bc #safety but he made reader cry n for that he is found #guilty!!!

word count: 3.1k

note: based off this ask! random fact the last line of this fic was the inspiration for empty my soul but idk why i just couldnt fit it in there, anyways i hope you guys like it! (pls tell me if u do i was struggling with a resolution for this)

a line: Spencer thinks, for a split second, that he’d rather die than ever have to see you cry like that again.

I give you an onion. It is a moon wrapped in brown paper. It promises light like the careful undressing of love. Here. It will blind you with tears like a lover. It will make your reflection a wobbling photo of grief. I am trying to be truthful. - carol ann duffy

You probably should’ve stopped five drinks ago—maybe four if you were feeling merciful. That last Vodka cran? A spectacularly bad idea. But whatever. You earned this. You’re young, you’re fun, you look good, and for the first time in weeks, you have no deadlines clawing at you. The final had been a nightmare. You knew your fate was sealed the second you flipped to question three. What the hell is textual and symbolic environmentalisation? But it’s over now. That’s all that matters.

The wind bites at your bare legs as you stand by the curb, aimlessly kicking a pebble. You hug your arms close, fighting off the chill. Maybe you should’ve brought a jacket. Spencer had suggested it, but you’d waved him off. He’s usually right.

You frown, glancing up at the street sign. He said he’d be here. Right? Your phone’s dying battery blinks at you in its final moments, mocking you before shutting off completely. Definitely should’ve taken his offer of a portable charger, too. You sigh, shifting your weight from one foot to the other.

A man stumbles by, reeking of booze. You don’t need to look to know.

"Hey," he calls out, voice slurred and gravelly.

You keep your eyes down, pretending not to hear.

“Hey,” he says again, louder this time.

Where the hell is Spencer?

"D’you know when the bus starts running again?"

You hesitate, half-relieved that he’s asking something semi-coherent. "I—I’m sorry, I’m not sure."

He nods to himself, swaying on his feet.

"I told you to wait by the bodega on 3rd," a familiar voice mutters. Spencer’s hand closes around your arm, already steering you away.

"Oh, hey," you say softly, relief washing over you. "Is this not—" You glance at the street sign overhead—4 Maple Drive. Shit. "I—sorry, I thought—"

"It’s fine," he says, but the sharp edge in his voice tells you it’s not.

The car ride is suffocatingly silent. When he pulls open the passenger door for you, there’s no trace of his usual warmth. No soft smile, no gentle tease about your perpetually dead phone. Just a click of the door and the quiet thud of it shutting behind you.

You hate this. Hate the tension humming between you, the way his jaw is set tight as he drives. He was so different this afternoon, greeting you after your final with those cupcakes he knows you love from the bakery on the other side of town, his lips brushing yours in endless, giddy kisses. This Spencer is nothing like that.

"They played ‘Dancing Queen’ tonight," you venture, voice tentative. He knows it’s your favourite. Knows it always pulls you to the dance floor, no matter how tired or tipsy you are. "It was so funny—some guy bought us a round of shots—"

"And you drank it?"

The question lands heavy. His first words to you since he’d started driving.

"Well... yeah?"

"What else did you drink?"

"Not a lot," you say quickly, tripping over your words. "Just vodka, tequila, a bit of wine—"

"You mixed?"

The way he says it makes you bristle. There’s a hint of disbelief, maybe even disappointment.

"Spence," you say softly. "I’m not that drunk, I promise."

Nothing.

His knuckles tighten on the steering wheel. The silence in the air is almost tangible, a crackling, oppressive thing. When he pulls into the driveway and kills the engine, he doesn’t move to open your door. He always does that. But not tonight.

You’re pretty sure he’s mad at you, though you’re not entirely sure why. It’s not like you go out that often, and you can’t even remember the last time you let yourself get this drunk. Tonight was an exception, a celebration. He understands, doesn’t he?

You follow him inside, trailing behind like a shadow. He doesn’t head to the kitchen like he does after you get back from a night out—no tea, no toast, no quiet ritual of making sure you’re okay. Instead, he walks straight into the study, his back to you. Yeah, he’s definitely mad.

"You’re mad at me," you say, standing in the doorway.

He doesn’t answer. His hands grip the back of his chair, his head bowed like he’s trying to gather himself. You’re not one to push, usually giving him the space he needs when he gets all broody like this, but the alcohol that’s running through your system is making it hard to practice patience.

"Why are you mad at me?"

Still nothing.

When he finally moves, it’s only to brush past you, heading for the bedroom without so much as a glance. "We’ll talk about this tomorrow," he says, his tone flat, clipped. "I can’t talk to you when you’re like this."

This. The word hits like a slap, sharp and dismissive. It irks you.

"If you didn’t want to come, then you shouldn’t have come," you mutter under your breath, the words slipping out before you can stop them. "I could’ve gotten a ride—"

"You were slurring on the phone." He stops in the hallway, turning just enough for you to see the tight set of his jaw.

"Yeah, no shit, Spencer. People slur when they drink," you fire back a little too harshly, the alcohol fueling your irritation as you cross your arms defensively.

"Don’t," he warns, his voice low, dangerous in a way that makes your chest tighten.

You glare at him, heat rising in your cheeks. "Don’t what? Don’t point out how ridiculous you’re being right now?"

He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t even look at you again. He just shakes his head and walks into the bedroom. By the time you follow him, he’s sitting on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor like it holds the answer to whatever’s boiling inside him. Fine. If he wants to ice you out, two can play that game.

You head to the bathroom without a word, your movements jerky as you swipe at the remnants of your makeup. You grab your moisturizer, fingers fumbling with the cap. A sharp tug and it goes flying out of your hands, clattering to the floor.

"Fuck," you mutter, bracing yourself for a bout of instability as you bend down to retrieve it.

Before you can grab it, Spencer moves. He scoops it up, straightening with an ease that feels almost mocking. When you meet his eyes, they’re unfamiliar. It’s not the Spencer you know. Not the Spencer who covers your eyes during scary movies or kisses your forehead when you’re half-asleep. No, this Spencer feels distant, cold.

"And I’m supposed to believe you’re not that drunk," he says flatly. Your chest tightens, a lump forming in your throat as heat flushes your face. He offers a hand as you steady yourself, trying to rise to your feet, but you brush him off, snatching the bottle from his grip with a bitterness you don’t try to mask.

"What the hell is your problem?" you snap.

"My problem?" he repeats, incredulous. "I’m not the one blackout drunk on a Wednesday night."

"I’m not—"

"Would you—would you just stop!" he barks, the words sharp enough to make you flinch. "You’re slurring your words. You got the streets wrong. You couldn’t even get the damn moisturizer open," he snaps, gesturing toward you harshly with a mixture of frustration and exasperation.

Your knuckles whiten as you cling to the edge of the sink, unsure if you’re holding on for balance or just to keep from breaking. You spin back toward the mirror willing yourself not to cry. The frustration, the confusion, the ache in your chest—everything wells up at once.

"God, you’re being so—"

"So what?" he interrupts, his voice rising as he steps closer. His eyes bore into yours, daring you to say it. "So concerned? So worried? So—"

"So fucking mean!"

The silence that follows deafening. For a moment, he freezes, the hard edges of his expression softening into something else—shock, regret, guilt—but it’s fleeting.

"So what if I’m drunk?" Your voice cracks as the words tumble out, your frustration too overwhelming to contain. "And yeah, maybe—" You shake your head, swallowing the lump in your throat as you glare at him, "Maybe I’m slurring a little but forgive me for wanting a drink after the final I’ve been stressing over all fucking month."

He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair, his frustration barely contained. "It’s not about you having a drink. It’s about you not knowing your limits—"

"Oh, for fucks sake," you interrupt, throwing your hands up. The movement makes you sway slightly, and you hate how it only seems to prove his point. "Newsflash, Spencer, I’m a university student. Sometimes we get drunk. You don’t get to make me feel like shit just because you don’t drink.”

You push past him, your shoulder grazing his as you move to sit on the edge of the bed. The mattress dips under your weight, and you grip the edge, willing the room to stop spinning.

"You were being reckless," he bites back, the word hanging heavy in the air. "You don’t see what I see. You’re out alone, you don’t—"

"I wasn’t alone," you say, your voice rising to meet his. "I had friends—"

"Yeah, friends who left you alone on a curb at 3am," he shoots back, cutting you off. The words land with precision, a calculated jab, but you refuse to flinch.

"Because you said you were on the way!" you fire back.

His voice is cold now, practically seething. "And what do you think would’ve happened if I hadn’t reached you just as that guy was coming on to you?"

"He was asking for the bus!" you shoot back, the words ringing out louder than you intended. You hate everything about this fight. You hate how unfamiliar he feels, hate the part of you that wonders if you’re the one who brought this out of him. "Nothing would’ve—"

Spencer’s expression darkens, his gaze narrowing. "Nothing?" He scoffs. "Tell that to Nina Radha. To Caroline Wrenley. To Mindy Denver. They were all ‘just waiting for a ride home’ last week. And now? All abducted. All dead."

The room goes silent. Your chest tightens, and the fight drains out of you as his meaning sinks in.

"You’re being cruel," your words are barely audible, trembling on the edge of your lips. The tears come faster now, streaking your face, but you don’t bother wiping them away. "Why—" you whisper, weak and watery, "Why are you being like this?"

When Spencer finally turns to look at you, the sight of your tears stops him cold. They streak your face in uneven paths, and he feels something inside him splinter. Spencer never likes seeing you cry—he hates it, actually. It’s not just discomfort or unease; it’s a literal, physical ache. But knowing he’s the reason for your tears tonight? That’s pain in its most visceral form. It’s failure in its purest state.

"I—" he starts, his voice faltering. It cracks mid-sentence, and he stops, swallowing hard. His breath shudders as he exhales, trying to find the words, but all that comes out is a quiet, broken, "I was scared."

Your tears have momentarily slowed, caught off guard by the sudden shift in his tone. The anger in his voice has faded, replaced by something softer, something raw—fear, tangled with guilt, with regret. He takes a tentative step closer, then hesitates, unsure of what to do.

"I thought that… something could’ve happened to you, and I—I didn’t know how to handle it."

After a moment, he lowers himself to your level, crouching in front of you. He lifts his hand, reaching out to wipe away the tears that stain your face. But the instant his fingers near you, you flinch, turning your head to avoid his touch. The movement is small, but Spencer’s heart shatters at the rejection all the same. He hates that he’s made you cry, hates that you won’t let him near you, hates that you won’t even look at him.

"I’m sorry," he says, the words low and weighted with sincerity. He knows it’s not enough, but it’s all he has left to give.

Your tears fall, dripping onto your hands that rest limply in your lap. You shake your head, your shoulders tense, refusing to meet his eyes. The rejection stings, sharper than he expected, but he doesn’t blame you. He knows he deserves this. The room is still except for the sound of your quiet sniffles.

Spencer tries again, his voice quieter now, almost pleading. "I just—" His breath catches as he exhales, his hand running through his hair in agitation, the movement more to calm himself than anything else. "When I saw you standing there alone—alone and with that man, I got scared. And I lashed out. I shouldn’t have. You didn’t— you didn’t deserve that."

The silence that follows is thick, but finally, you break it. Your voice is quiet, bitter.

"I’m not them."

You’re still not meeting his eyes, still keeping that distance, but at least it’s something.

"Those girls… I’m not them, Spencer."

"I know, I know. I was—", his voice is low, the regret weighing heavily on every syllable.

"That case was tough on you, I know it was," you interrupt, "And what happened to those girls, it was horrible. But I'm not them, Spence. I'm not…" Spencer watches helplessly as you furiously wipe away a tear from your cheek.

"I'm not dead. I'm here."

“I was projecting, I—” His voice catches, “I shouldn’t have taken it out on you,” he admits quietly. You nod, grimly. Another single, heavy tear slips down your cheek and Spencer feels his heart break all over again.

"I know you’re scared. How do you think I feel every time you go out into the field?" You take a deep breath, and say bitterly, "I get it."

Each word is a struggle, but you say it with conviction. He can see how much you’re holding in, the effort it takes for you to keep your voice from cracking.

You pause, swallowing hard as you steady yourself, "But you—You don’t get to talk to me like that." When your eyes meet his, they flash with both anger and sadness. "You don’t get to take that out on me."

"I know, I—That was—I was being horrible, I was an ass," Spencer admits, his voice small. "You didn’t deserve that, honey. God, I’m just—I’m so, so, sorry."

You look at him for a long moment, searching for any sign that he’s being sincere. All you see is regret, raw and heavy. And something else, something softer. Love. He reaches out, and this time you don’t pull away. Just getting to touch you is a brief, bittersweet, blinding relief. Spencer lets his fingers graze your cheek as he wipes away your tears gently, his thumb brushing over the wet path they’ve left behind.

A soft, almost bitter laugh escapes you. "An ass is putting it lightly."

Spencer’s chest tightens, a small breath of relief escaping him, though it’s quickly replaced with guilt. "M’so sorry sweetheart," he breathes out, comforted by the familiar bite in your tone. It lightens the air between you, just a little.

He shifts to sit next to you on the bed. "I didn’t—I really didn’t mean to," he says quietly. You rest your head on his shoulder, letting out a soft sigh, the fight slowly draining out of you. Spencer gently takes your hands, cradling them in his.

"I—I never want to hurt you, never want to make you cry. Ever." Spencer's voice cracks slightly as he talks, fingers tracing your palm. "You know that, right?"

You nod, your voice small but steady. "I know."

Shifting, you tuck your legs beneath you, turning to face him fully. Your hands lift to cup his face gently, your thumbs brushing against the faint stubble on his jaw. The touch is tender, almost protective, as you guide his face to meet yours. His eyes can’t hold your gaze for long, shame clearly written across them.

"I was just—I was—" He stumbles over his words.

"Scared," you finish softly, filling the silence for him.

"I—I’m sorry," Spencer’s voice falters, "I’m really sorry honey, I should’ve never—That was—"

Your hands guide his face back toward yours, coaxing him to meet your eyes. This time, he doesn’t resist, his breath shaky as he clings to the comfort you offer. "S’okay, baby. M’not mad anymore," you murmur.

"Sad?" he asks, his voice barely audible, like he’s afraid of what you’ll say.

"No," you smile faintly, shaking your head, "Not sad, baby," you whisper, leaning closer. Your thumb traces the curve of his cheek in silent reassurance. His shoulders relax just a little. "I just—" you sigh as you let out one last, quiet sniffle, "I really hate fighting."

Carefully, he coaxes you into his lap, his arms wrapping around you. "Me too, honey," he says, his voice thick with emotion as he shifts closer. You don’t resist, letting your head rest in the crook of his neck, your breath warm against his skin.

"S’not nice," you murmur against him, your words muffled.

"I know, I know," Spencer whispers, his fingers tracing slow, soothing circles along your back. You let out a shaky sigh, sinking further into his embrace. “Was awful, wasn’t it?” he says, quietly.

"Mhm," you mumble quietly, your voice soft but pointed as you lean into his touch. "Made me cry," you say, looking at him through wet lashes to prove your point. Spencer thinks, for a split second, that he’d rather die than ever have to see you cry like that again. After a beat of quiet, he tilts his head just enough to press a soft kiss to your temple.

"I love you, you know that?"

You hum softly, nuzzling your face into his neck with a contented sigh, "Love you too."

"Love you so much, sweet girl," he says again, quieter this time, like it’s a truth meant only for you.

"Sap," you tease, lifting your head just enough to meet his gaze, the faintest hint of a smile on your lips.

Spencer grins, soft and boyish. "Always for you," he mumbles fondly, and before you can respond, he leans forward, pressing a playful kiss to the tip of your nose.

You stick your tongue out at him in mock protest, but he’s already chasing the moment. A kiss lands on your cheek. Then another on the other side. Each one dripping with easy affection.

"Spence—" you laugh, the sound bubbling up. It spreads a warmth through Spencer’s chest.

"My sweet girl," he says quietly, almost to himself.

His smile only grows as he drinks in the sound of your giggles, tears long gone. He presses a fluttering series of kisses across your form until you’re laughing into his lips, each kiss softer than the last.

One on your cheek, two on your shoulder, a thousand on your lips.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ hi if you're here! thank you for reading! feel free to like or reblog or comment or reply!

ᯓ★ song recs if you feel like it: false god by taylor swift moon river by frank ocean

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer x reader #spencer x self insert #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader fluff #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x reader angst #spencer reid x reader comfort

1K notes · View notes

miupow · 3 months ago

Note

beeeestie i am a new follower aaaand im just in love w ur blog 😩❤️

plllllsssss talk about husband!skz, i just cant go to sleep without this on mind 😫😫😫

you can include nsfw if you are comfortable with

˗ˏˋ ★ ― HUSBAND!STRAY KIDS HEADCANONS .ᐟ

╰┈⪼ ot8 x fem!reader ✦ fluff + smut , NSFW minors do not interact !

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 。。。public sex , unprotected sex , creampies , breeding kink , marking , public sex , spanking , bondage , dom/sub dynamics , brat tamer minho , sex toys , shibari , oral (f. rec) , squirting , voice kink , oral (m. rec) mention , orgasm control , pet play sort of

notes from lia。ouuu husbant. my favorite genre of skz.. hehe thank u for the follow!! i hope u enjoy this.. it makes me so happy to hear that u love my blog ^^

SFW :

husband!bangchan who acts like he's your sugar daddy on top of being your husband. you could ask for the entire nation of korea and he'd try his best to give it to you. anything you want and more, it doesn't matter the price; chan just loves spoiling his baby girl. designer bags and jewelry, pretty clothes and expensive dinners... you don't even have to ask.

husband!minho who loves to cook with you, even though he acts like he doesn't. when he's complaining about you being in his way and making snide remarks about your culinary skills, it's out of endearment instead of actual irritation. he just finds it so funny when you throw your own retorts back at him, pouting in that way he adores so much <3 he just loves riling you up

husband!changbin who loves to work out with you! he sees it as a bonding activity, something for the two of you to do together to spend time with eachother. he helps you with all of your stretches, you spot eachother when you need to, exchanging kisses inbetween sets <3 holding his feet while he does sit ups, kissing u every time he comes up hehe

husband!hyunjin who views you as his greatest muse. his favorite subject to draw or paint is your pretty face, your smile his favorite to photograph. he shows you some of it, but most he keeps for himself-- for his eyes only, to admire when he's away on tour and he misses you.

husband!jisung who has an endless amount of inside jokes with you from all of your years together, showing up in gag gifts and one-liners that make you double over in laughter. ji loves to make you laugh, it’s his favorite sound in the entire world <3 he’s always doing something silly in hopes that you’ll give him a pretty giggle, smile and roll your eyes, make his heart skip a beat in his chest ~

husband!felix who treats you like a princess, maybe even a queen— he all but worships the ground you walk on, forever gushing about how beautiful and amazing his wife is <3 the honeymoon phase never ends with him, you’re still as disgustingly in love with each other as you were when you first started dating. he calls you all sorts of sappy pet names, giving you kisses everywhere he can reach, always needing to be touching you even if it’s just holding your hand

husband!seungmin who still acts like a tsundere even when you’ve been married for years lol. he complains about you being lazy but he’ll never let you lift a finger, he groans about you being needy when he’s the one always reaching for you and demanding ur attention >< you love him just the way he is, and he loves you more than he’ll ever care to admit. it’s so obvious that he adores you cos he’s always looking at you when he thinks you aren’t paying attention, eyes lit up like you hung the stars yourself <3

husband!jeongin who wants to spend absolutely every moment he can by your side, and he hates being away from you for any reason. a perfect day for him would be glued to your hip, from when you wake up to when you go to sleep, his favorite person and his partner in crime, his ride or die… he’d take you with him on tour if he could, but he’ll settle for being on facetime 24/7 while he’s away lol

NSFW :

husband!bangchan who can't wait to start a family <3 he figures that now you're married, it's only natural to start trying for a baby... fucks you hard and fills you up every night, fully intent on getting your belly all swollen with his babies… so much cum it’s spilling out of your hole down your hickey-marked thighs, chan pushing it back inside with his thick fingers talking about making sure it takes…

husband!minho who will put you back in your place when you’re being bratty. he will not tolerate his wife having an attitude with him!! he’ll put you over his lap and make you count in an instant, or tie you up and torture you with your favorite vibrator for hours, and he won’t stop until you’re crying and begging for his forgiveness <3 he doesn’t care if you’re out in public or out with friends, he’s whispering threats in your ear, and if you still don’t stop he’ll grab you by the wrist and drag you back home.

husband!changbin who can't help but find your workout wear incredibly sexy, the way your leggings hug your ass and curves, the way ur sports bra pushes up ur tits.. and he knows you find him sexy too, in his tank top and gym shorts, sweaty muscles all out on display.... he's drooling over you while you're drooling over him, and you can both only take so much... its not uncommon for the two of you to end up fucking in the gym showers or in the locker rooms, sometimes even getting touchy in the weight room if it's empty!! changbin slapping and gripping on your ass cos he can't stop himself from touching anymore, and you grind back onto his crotch to feel his erection... his fat dick splitting you open in the showers, his thick buff arms holding you up against the cold shower wall with your legs apart..

husband!hyunjin who loves to tie you up, more than any of the other boys. it’s like an art form to him and he takes it very seriously, buying expensive rope in pretty colors, taking immaculate care of it.. he loves to take pictures of his work, the intricate knots that bind you in place or suspend you from the ceiling— you look so beautiful like that to him, his perfect tied up angel for him to admire and destroy <3

husband!jisung who is an absolute pussy fiend… he could spend all day with his face buried between your legs, talented tongue making you cum over and over again until you squirt hehe <3 he’s not satisfied until his entire face is drenched with ur arousal, dripping slick from his nose and chin, and then he wants to fuck you until you can’t walk ! and you better believe he’s going in raw, because why would he wear a condom when his ring is on your finger? you better be careful, because jisung wants to fuck every day and every night… you wouldn’t mind if you got pregnant, would you? because he definitely wouldn’t

husband!felix who thinks it’s so cute that you find his voice so hot. all he has to do is whisper some dirty words in your ear and you’re blushing and squirming like a virgin… he just can’t help but do it all of the time. deep aussie accent mumbling about how he’s going to ruin your pussy when you get home, or about how hard and needy he is for you to take care of him <3 his hand on your thigh dangerously close to where you need him most… he loves to rile you up until you can’t take any more, till you snap <3

husband!seungmin who loves his wife submissive and needy <3 he won’t let you touch yourself without his permission, just because he loves to listen to you beg, so desperate and dependent on him … he’s trained you to be a perfect pup for him, down to the collar he likes to have you wear. you’d do anything to hear him say “good girl”, wouldn’t you?

husband!jeongin who loves to fuck in public !! getting head in the park, balls deep in your pussy in a bathroom stall, fucking under a blanket in the dorm living room, loud movie covering up your sounds. the riskiness of it gets him so hot, the idea of getting caught slutting you out in a dressing room, closet, break room… maybe it’s because he’s so possessive, that nasty freaky part of him relishing the idea of showing off to others how you belong to him… and he loves watching you stumble around with cum dripping down your legs from under your skirt, disheveled and redfaced desperate to hide what you and your husband were just up to…

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