#and the awkward slow motion

[imfluffytrash]

HIStory 3: Trapped spoilers

I love rewatching HIStory 3: Trapped 'cause I keep forgetting important plot points or scenes and then get surprised when they appear. What do you mean Jack worked undercover for the police? Why the hell Ah Zhi killed the policewoman and Tang Yi's mentor? Since when there's a character named Li Zhi De who abuses Tang Yi? How come Hong Ye's never held accountable for her crimes? It's a rollercoaster of emotions every time.

+ I always end up wanting a Jack x Zhao Zi spin-off. During my first watch I didn't catch how complex Zhao Zi's character is, but right now I adore him and I think his trauma could have been more explored.

[asoftepiloguemylove]

Cameron Awkward-Rich THEORY OF MOTION (4): ANOTHER MIDDLE-CLASS BLACK KID TRIES TO NAME IT (via @sweatermuppet) // Wayne Koestenbaum "Figure;" My 1980s and Other Essays // Mary Lambert "Why I Slept With Makeup on for Five Years;" Shame Is an Ocean I Swim Across // Keaton St. James DYSPHORIA CREEK // Richard Siken "Birds Hover the Trampled Field;" War of the Foxes (via @newvision) // Greta Moran Slow First

[grimark]

i'm having heart palpitations right now i swear to god i may never be normal again

[tirorah]

I wonder if Usagi has seen the engagement ring at this point. I assume she has, as it's basically her thought process/reaction we're being shown here, and the camera makes sure to pan over to their clasped hands that shows us the ring. But she doesn't say anything, and if I remember correctly, her commentary is a bit ambiguous later on too.

Either way, Makoto is here to do damage control! ...By doing damage! It's a Makoto special.

And while we're on this moment, I do find it interesting that only their early attacks receive the CG stock footage treatment. Something like Flower Hurricane, as demonstrated here, is rendered in-environment every single time. I wonder why that is. Sure, she doesn't use it a whole bunch, but it's definitely more than once. Wouldn't it be easier and/or cheaper to make special footage for this and cut to that every time she uses it?

[darabeatha]

Morgan's honest reaction:

[quietwingsinthesky]

oh other thoughts about spiderverse is that I know that Miles is autistic, I don’t have any proof of this, but I’m telling you, I can sense it.

[satorena]

taking nerdjo’s glasses while you’re riding 🥸

cw. 18+. semi public sex. sub undertones. breeding kink.

“—ohhhh fuckkkkk,”

he doesn’t understand it— any of it. he doesn’t understand how he, of all people, managed to get you. the it girl on campus— with pretty hairstyles and cutesy nails, flocks of both girls and boys crawling after you for the slightest bit of your attention, is somehow interested in the least known guy around— the lanky, socially awkward physics teacher assistant with fading digimon stickers glued to the back of his worn down computer.

gojo assumes he’s experiencing one hell of a good dream. that’s the only way to explain the insatiable feeling of wet heat enveloping his aching dick. it’s the only way to explain the pornographic sounds of skin slapping echoing in this empty library. it’s the only way to explain why his balls are begging for release with each grind of needy hips rocking against his own.

he doesn’t want to wake up. he feels the cheap fabric of carpet beneath his fingernails from digging them into the floor. his knuckles are turning white from how hard he’s clenching. there’s an abnormal tightening of a knot in his guts begging to be snapped. he can feel beads of sweat forming at his hairline and his foggy glasses are slipping past his nose bridge uncomfortably—

but he doesn’t want to wake up.

planted on the heels of whatever latest trendy shoes you own, you’re riding his cock as if he were your lifeline. god you feel divine— your folds swallowing him into your cunt with such ease and precision, walls clenching down the moment he’s balls deep. he can feel your acrylics scratching at his undercut with one hand while the other holds your body steady down his thigh.

gojo doesn’t think he’s breathing, and frankly, isn’t sure if he wants to. you’re reckless— moaning freely in the emptiness of the establishment and right into the shell of his ear as if your birthright, careless of the thuds of heavy textbooks hitting the floor. there’s a crease in your brows and your jaw hangs slack, glossy lips parted as they release the hymns of your cries,

“—so deep, can feel you in my stomach!”

your tits bounce in clockwise motions. you’d freed yourself from your top sometime between the flirting behind bookshelves and his pikachu drawls dropping down to the floor. the sound of your pussy squelching with every bounce is a memory he wouldn’t forget even on his death bed— cunt so wet he can hardly feel his own dick in you.

the pad of your thumb grazes his bottom lip, and you lean forward to catch it between yours. he’s frozen stiff— the slip of your tongue in his mouth, your overwhelming sweetness invading his senses. he’s moaning pathetically, growing some security in the muffled sounds, so overstimulated by this insatiable pleasure that his arms start to feel weak.

your tongue swipes at his lips before nibbling on the flesh, “—taste so good,” he feels your lips mouthing against his own, and wishes he was able to focus for a split second on what you told him, but the ache in balls are a telltale that this euphoric dream is drawing to an end.

he squints his eyes shut. he tries to focus on the latest chapter of his latest obsession manga and theories he’s conspired. he recalls the sneak of his wrinkly old professor’s ass crack from his early lecture. he thinks back on this auction he’s seen online for retro limited edition video games. did he ever end up submitting that biochem lab assignment due—

“gojo.”

he snaps his eyes open. he didn’t realize he’d clenched his entire facial muscles until the moment he was able to see you again— only releasing those muscles feeling tightness in his cheeks (amongst other places)(read: his cock).

you’ve slowed down your pace. you’ve switched your movements from bounces to grinding. he can feel his tip prodding at your gummy walls. your breath fans his cupid’s bow and he’s only now noticing how close in proximity you both are. he can feel your heartbeat against his chest, and he’s positive you can feel his stomach clenching against your own.

he begins to feel more of your body weight on his, a feeling he definitely wants to get accustomed to, as you shift from your feet to your knees. your hand on his thigh trails upwards past his trail of hair, sliding up past the ridges of his abs, over the planes of his chest and meet at his nape with its other duo. there’s an aroma of vanilla and cherries exuding off you—

heisenburg’s uncertainty principle. star wars mandalorian culture. the roswell ufo incident. fucking neon genesis evangelion’s a cruel angel’s thesis—

“you don’t like me?” you ask him, all doey eyed like. it doesn’t sound like a legitimate question, but his ‘huh’ does draw more into a whine when you intentionally clamp down on his dick. he doesn’t miss the mischievous glint in your eyes.

gojo bites down on his lower lip, fiddling with a loose thread on the carpet. his body releases a shudder at the chills creeping up his spine when you trace a finger down the slope of his neck, “w-what?” he asks weakly, huffing as his toes curl in his socks.

this time, you cock your head just barely to the side, and he watches your gaze trail from his lips to his eyes and back to his lips. despite the agonizingly slow pace, you never stop riding him. his cock is still graced by your warmth, still snatching his soul through his slit. your lashes bat twice before glancing back up at his eyes.

“you don’t like me.” you’re not asking this time, your tone dripping in seduction and like a fool, finds himself swayed. you’re teasing him— he can see it in the way the corner of your lips quirk into your infamous smile. you’ve got him wrapped all around your pretty finger— he knows it and you definitely know it.

as if he was anybody to not like you. your ass cheeks clench when you drive your body forward, gripping on his cock so tight he can feel the wind knocked out his lungs, “no! are you, ngh, crazy— of course i do—”

“because i like you.” it falls short of a whisper, but the vibrations of your words against his lips shoot right to his heart and balls, and he knows his blotchy cheeks are now flushed red for an entirely different reason.

he answers faster than his mind can process, his stomach jumping with butterflies and an oncoming orgasm. your eyes won’t leave his— like a deceiving siren baring deep into his soul and rendering him vulnerable before consuming his entire being. not too far from his reality, hips bucking upwards as desperately as possible to emphasize his immediate answer, “i like you too—”

“you won’t look at me,” gojo hadn’t realized he shied away from your gaze, pouring his entire focus on not spilling both his heart and cum right into you, “talk to me.”

“i-it’s just, um,” he tries to flick his eyes back onto yours, but you’re still staring so intensely behind siren eyes and still rocking your hips. your fluids drip past your cunt and down his sack, before staining the carpet, “i’m a—mmph, nobody and you’re— well, you’re you,” he feels a hot tongue glide over the accumulated sweat on his neck and humps up again, “y’re just so pretty and every time i look at you i get the urge to c-cum but,” your teeth sink into his jugular before nibbling and he whines, throwing his head back, “i want— need you to cum first. . .”

there’s a beat of silence for a while. you’ve even halted your grinding altogether. he prays to god he didn’t mess up the one good thing that’s happened to him in all his twenty one years of living. you’ve even popped his now bruised skin from your lips— hovering right over the mark you left on him. pleasure licks at his limbs feverishly, back arching in hopes to dig even deeper (if possible) in your pussy.

you pull away from his neck and the tip of your nose is back to grazing his own. your usually styled hair is now a mess, your skin dampening from moisture and your lip gloss now swapped for your and his saliva— your overall classic, picture perfect image completely abandoned,

and he doesn’t think you’ve looked any prettier.

“so,” you draw out, freeing a hand from his locks to graze over the throbbing love bite at his neck. gojo sniffs, pushing his foggy glasses back up on his bridge with the back of his hand, and you caress the throbbing flesh, “the problem is when you look huh. . .?”

his neck is suddenly released from blissful torture and he feels his frames coming off his face from no effort of his own. his vision slowly fades and his pupils dilate to accommodate to his now poor quality of sight, “what are you—”

and his breath hitches. he can only make out your shape through your sinful curves but there’s no mistake from your silhouette— your hands, now holding his glasses hostage, press at his chest, “trust me,” you apply firm pressure from your palms to his upper body, and he feels himself sinking into the floor, back meeting the dirty carpet.

trust you? he’d lay his life on the line for a woman like you.

his fingers spread as his palms face the sky, and his breath staggered. the bookshelves, windows and study rooms are all blurry as fuck— which is both off putting and extremely risky since library hours were still valid at this time, but despite it all, it felt as if he could see you clear as day. gojo would usually never put his academics on the line, but he couldn’t deny the thrill of possibly getting caught having sex with the finest girl in school in a public library had his cock twitching incessantly.

god, he is just so happy to be here.

your fingers slide his glasses atop your nose bridge, and your cheeks split into a cheeky smile, hips beginning to roll back into their previous tempo. he feels your hands grabbing his own, before resting them at your hips. he’s a greedy man, and since the opportunity may only come once in his lifetime, he slides his hands further to your ass., and with a gulp, grabs the flesh greedily. damn— it hardly fits in his palms.

there’s a symphony of moans coming from you both when you lift your hips up, and it’s downright disgusting how turned on he gets at your essence trickling down his shaft and past his balls. your pussy lips drool and latch onto his tip tightly, before entirely releasing him and slipping your hand between your thighs. you kneed his nuts, fondling the testicles between your digits expertly and his back arches off the floor, “shouldn’t be an issue anymore, yeah?” you hum.

“y-yeah— oh god, yes,” gojo nods dumbly, toes curling in his socks as you proceed to stroke his cock. his tip is weeping in pre cum blended with your own wetness, and the faster you flick your wrist, the tighter his stomach contracts. he’s lasted quite some time now, considering this being his first time and all, but there’s only so much a man can hold back. his fingernails dig crescent moon shapes into the mounds of your ass as his hips chase after your touch with every stroke. “w-wait, fuck, i’m gonna cum—”

“yeah?” you encourage him, hunching just over his weeping dick, still holding him at his base. you drag his tip in between your lips, back and forth, while your other hand feels him up at his abs. “where do you wanna finish? on my face?” he whines, mindlessly humping and your smirk deepens as you slowly sink down, “on my tits?” gojo shakes his head, and feels drool coming from the corner of his lips. his limbs are on fire and his groin feels like it’s on the verge of explosion, “on my ass?” you’re about halfway down, “or. . . inside?”

“please,” he doesn’t care if he’s begging. snowy lashes bat open as his teary unfocused eyes adjust to the dimmed lights. even your silhouette is sexy, “please lemme cum inside, i-i’ll do anything.”

“hmm, anything?” you purr, knees finally hitting the floor as you straddle him once more. he lets out a guttural groan at the familiar feel of your silky walls entrapping his cock. his mind is fucking hazy and despite never having consuming alcohol, he feels drunk.

“yes,” he pleads, rolling his hips impossibly deeper into you, euphoric pleasure shooting in his bloodstream, “a-anything you want, i swear,” at the sudden intrusion, you let out a loud gasp when his tip bumps into your cervix and drop your body forward, arms giving out.

chest to chest, skin to skin, your lips hover over his as your back dips into an arch, forcing a penetration deeper in your guts. your palms are pressed flat onto the floor at the side of his head, and he can make out his glasses sitting lazily on the ball of your nose. he slides his hands up your sides, kneading at every inch of your flesh, before sliding back down to your ass.

“even my homework? assignments?” you tease breathily, a strangled moan ripping out your throat when his knees push up and fucks into you. your body jerks forward as his feet plant to the floor, hands still gripping on your ass.

when he snaps his hips up, you roll yours down, and the matching intensity sends his brain haywire. he’s desperate for release, forcing your hips down as he nudges his cock languidly into your cunt. his jaw falls slack and he nods again, dumbly, “ngh, for the rest of the s-school year,”

“that easy with you?” you giggle, but is easily interrupted when he leans forward to catch your lips in a messy kiss. there’s a shit ton of saliva involved, some even escapes past your mouths and down your jaws, but he couldn’t care any less—you tasted heavenly. he wishes he had the time to eat your pussy, he’s positive you taste holier down there.

“it’s your world.” gojo moans, snaking his hands from your ass to wrap around your upper body. now caught in his embrace, you let your head fall limply into the crook of his neck as he works his dick in and out of you. he means what he said— it is your world, and he’s nothing more than a happy servant. “i’ll do it all— bring your books to class, rub your feet— i’ll bark if you need me to— just, please, please, please let me cum inside.”

your moans vibrating from his neck run straight to his ears and fuels him further. he’s thrusting relentlessly— there’s no set pace at all, and he’s so close to finishing he’s completely forgotten about wanting you to cum first. he finally understands why everybody obsesses over sex— he never wants to let you go.

your head pushes up from his neck, nosing at his jaw. he feels your hands cradling his hair, and your lips pressing kisses at the corner of his mouth. his heart skips a beat— he revels in the attention you’re giving him, even if it’s just for the moment. he knows he won’t ever be this lucky again, so he might as well enjoy the ride while he’s here.

“you wanna breed my pussy?” you bite your lip, each stroke in your cunt jerking the glasses down the slope of your nose. despite the dense flog clouding the lens, he can feel your eyes on him. he nods desperately, tightening his hold on you, and the new angle has your clit dragging against his pelvis, “mmph— okay, yeah — put a baby in me, freak.”

and so he does. he thrusts as spurts of cum shoots inside your womb. his balls tighten as his hips rut, arms clutching onto your body with every fibre in him. you smell good, feel good, look good— and your cunt milks him dry for whatever he’s worth.

his orgasm feels short of an eternity yet simultaneously a second, his soul having transcended into an outwardly dimension. and it’s only when you scoot your ass upwards, sliding a hand between both warm bodies, that you collect his cum on the pad of your fingers. he blinks hazily, zeroing his focus when he sees you pop your fingers into your mouth.

“mhm,” you hum at the taste. he’s panting heavily, body riding a euphoric high he’s yet to come down from. you don’t seem to mind, leaning forward to catch his lips once again. and he lets you, moaning at the taste of himself on your tongue. when you pull away, there’s a thin string of cum induced saliva pulling at your lips. “‘s my world, right? want my pussy in your mouth.”

and he instantly hardens.

[lazyjellyfish300]

I'VE BEEN WAITIN FOR THIS ONE 💕💕💕😩😩😩 Christmas came in February!! 🔥

✰ WOKE UP IN JAPAN ✰

✰ | Inspired playlist here |.

Prologue | Next Chapter here

✰ Pairing neighbor!Choso Kamo x bartender!Reader

✰ Summary (chapter 1/? of Queen of the Night), in which you offer to help your lovely younger neighbour Yuji with his chemistry homework, but end up bumping into his mysterious, ever-elusive older brother, Choso aka ‘the ghost of the block'...

✰ Warnings crack, slow-burn, pining, opposites to lovers, awkwardness, jealousy, underground nightlife, Choso being cold and intimidating at first, reader being messy™��, suggestive language (nsfw and dark themes coming later on-check series materialist for the complete list)

~5k words(First chapter turned out longer than expected..sorry abt that)

Comments and Reblogs are appreciated 💜

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ♫♬♪: "Woke up in Japan" by 5sos

7:42 AM

“Are you still asleep?!” Shizuru’s hands jolt you awake, practically sending you flying out of your dreams. “Damn, you’re going to be late for class again!” 

You blink groggily, your mind struggling to catch up with reality. Less than twenty minutes to make it to campus, and here you are, still snuggled in the warm embrace of your blankets. Last night, you’d fallen asleep mid-jam session, headphones still on, your beloved guitar resting in your lap like a loyal dog. Papers are strewn about your room like confetti from a failed celebration, and as you tilt your head to one side, you feel Shizuru shaking you again.

“Wake up!” she insists, her voice a mix of exasperation and amusement.

With a jolt, your eyes flutter open, and you’re immediately met with the relentless buzzing of your phone alarm on the nightstand. “Shit, it’s late!” you exclaim, snatching it up. As you read the time, your heart drops. “NO WAY! IT’S THIS LATE… Shit, no, no!” 

In a whirlwind of panic, you leap out of bed, your feet somehow getting tangled in your own guitar. You trip and stumble, barely managing to grab a pair of wide-leg jeans and your favorite cropped sweater from the drawer as you dash toward the bathroom. 

“Whoa, watch out!” you yell, just as you collide with a shirtless guy who seems to have wandered into your apartment, probably one of Shizuru's late-night visitors. 

“Hey, good morning to you, Sleeping Beauty… You must be Shizuru's roomie,” he greets you, completely unfazed by your chaotic entrance. You feel your cheeks flush as you awkwardly try to cover your exposed legs, the oversized t-shirt you're wearing doing little to help. “Yes… it’s me… nice to meet you,” you stammer, trying to muster a smile despite the embarrassment. “Ehm… I’d love to chat, but I really have to go… I’m late again…for uni I mean” you clear your throat, trying not to cringe at your own goofiness.

With that, you escape into the bathroom, your laughter mingled with anxiety echoing through the hallway. Just before you close the door, you notice your roomie still standing in the corridor with her mocking grin, and you turn back to Shizuru, mouthing a whispered rebuke. “Who's him, 'Zuru? Can you at least give me a heads-up next time a guy stays over?” your frustrated words elicit a chuckle from the pink-haired girl "you know…so that I can avoid being caught half naked by a stranger again…"

Shrugging, she just gives you an amused look, clearly entertained by your morning fiasco. Still flustered, you crank up the shower without checking the temperature. The moment the water hits you, you realize too late that it’s scalding hot. “AHHH! That’s not what I signed up for!” you yelp, jumping back, only to drop the bottle of lotion, which thuds loudly against the tiles.

In the kitchen, Shizuru and her date exchange glances, the sound of the lotion bottle crashing resonating through the apartment. 

“Is she okay?” he asks, a teasing smirk on his lips.

“Yeah, she’ll be fine—just a typical morning of hers. This girl’s trouble,” Shizuru replies with a roll of her eyes.

Finally, you emerge from the bathroom, steam billowing out behind you like a dramatic exit from a soap opera. You grab your bag and beloved headphones, rushing toward the door. “I’m leaving! See you later, Zuru!” 

Just as you’re about to vanish, you pop your head back through the door, suddenly reminded of the other person in the apartment  “Oh, and… it was nice to meet you, uh… Kenji?” you attempt a name, hoping it will be the right one this time…it's definitely hard to keep up with Shizuru's adventurous love life…

"Yeah... whatever…" The guy looks at Shizuru, bewildered. “Who the hell is Kenji again?” 

Shizuru mentally curses your terrible memory... you've mistaken him for her previous date “Told you she’s completely bonkers,” she mutters, shaking her head, before smoothly shifting to another topic. 

...

Just then, another door swings open in the hallway, the one of apartment 24, right next to yours. Yuji Itadori, your neighbor, waves goodbye to his older brother, Choso, while chewing on a half-eaten sandwich…

You are too ingrossed in your phone to notice him and you and Yuji end up slamming into each other, a comedic collision of morning chaos. “hey careful here...oh it's you! Good morning!” you both exclaim, chuckling at your synchronized enthusiasm.

Yuji is the sweetest guy ever—an actual angel. He’s a bit younger than you, but since you moved to Japan to study, he’s always been there to lend a hand, whether it’s carrying heavy grocery bags or rescuing you and your roomie when your apartment almost caught fire. “Setting off for uni already?” he asks, flashing that bright smile of his.

“Yes… classes start in ten minutes, but I’ve made my peace with being late…” you shamelessly admit with a smile, glancing at your phone. There was something about Yuji's candor that made you feel at ease, as if you could tell him about the most embarrassing thing you've done without being judged at all.

“By the way… how’s school going, Yuji?” You can’t just run off without exchanging a few words with him; he’s too lovely.

“I've joined two more clubs this year, but…” Yuji sighs dramatically, his shoulders slumping under the weight of his backpack. “Science is driving me mad! I can’t keep up with both biology and chemistry at the same time!” 

“Oh no, Biology and Chemistry together in the same sentence sound scary…” you agree, genuinely feeling for him. Without thinking twice, you suggest, “I still have some remnants of knowledge from high school. I could help you with your homework… if you want, of course!”

His big doe eyes light up with gratefulness. “Would you really do this for me? Thank you!!” he exclaims, nearly bouncing off the walls with excitement. Yuji's spontaneous reactions were always too precious, you simply can't say no to this guy. Not that you mind being around him actually.

“Yeah, no problem! That’s what neighbors are for, right?” You smile back, feeling a warm glow at his enthusiasm. “ok then…When do you want to start?”

“Let me think…" he taps his finger on his temple, feigning a not so credible hesitation "How about this afternoon?" He spits out soon after, a goofy smile on his lips "eheh...The situation is bordering on desperate here, and I have a test next week…” He chuckles nervously, scratching the back of his neck.

“Is it that bad?” You muse, trying to suppress a laugh. “Okay, okay… don’t worry, Yuji, I can help. How about this afternoon, around 5?” 

“5 PM sounds perfect for me!” He looks at you like you’re his personal superhero. “We both should really go now…" he says, glancing down at the ridiculous time displayed on his screen "see you later, then!” 

“Yeah, we definitely should” you agree, putting your headphones on as you begin to walk toward the lift. "See you later!"

“Thank you! You’re the best!” Yuji’s voice rings in your ears once again before you disappear behind the doors, your heart a little lighter and your day a little brighter.

…

“I'm home, Cho!” Yuji bursts through the door like a whirlwind after a long day of classes, his shoes and backpack tumbling onto the doorstep in a chaotic heap. The moment he steps inside, his energy lights up the quietness of the living room.

Choso lounges on the couch, wearing an expression that screams “boredom” as he stares blankly at the TV,  probably rewatching the same episode of some mind-numbing comedy series in the strenuous attempt to kill his time until Yuji would be home from school. 

“Hey, you’re back earlier today!” the guy says, glancing at the clock. “Were Megumi and Nobara too busy to hang out this afternoon?” His curiosity is piqued, especially since Yuji hasn’t plopped down on the couch beside him yet; instead, he busies himself gathering the avalanche of papers scattered across the living room floor and fluffing the couch cushions like a domestic tornado.

Choso sighs and lazily stands up, trailing after Yuji to the kitchen, where he surprises his brother wrestling with a mountain of neglected dishes in the sink.

“What are you doing? Did we suddenly become a popular hangout spot and I missed the memo?” Choso asks, tilting his head to the side like a confused puppy, his pigtails swaying back and forth in rhythm with his thoughts.

“Oh, yes! Totally forgot to text you about this!” Yuji muses, a casual shrug accompanying his words. “ Our neighbor from the 23 is coming over to help me with my science homework.” He says it as if it were the most normal thing in the world, but Choso’s eyebrows shoot up, a mixture of panic and confusion etched on his face. Someone. A girl, to boot, is going to visit them…since when?

“Which one of the girls next door? The new one?” Choso’s memory is a little foggy; he’d caught only a glimpse of you moving in nearly a month ago, awkwardly maneuvering your staff in the hallway like a wizard trying to find their way in a Muggle world. 

He’s always been the king of avoiding small talk and the awkwardness of handshakes, not to mention the sheer horror of forgetting someone's name right after meeting them. What he dreaded most, though, were the judgmental glances he received from strangers, as if his unconventional style was a neon sign saying, “Please stare at me!”. It basically feels like his worst nightmare is coming true in front of his eyes right now. 

He looks at Yuji in horror, hoping he will get the hint, but his eyes soften as he watches his hyperactive little brother. How could he understand? Yuji is the complete opposite of him. He was a social butterfly, flitting from person to person, charming everyone in the neighborhood with that infectious smile of his. 

“Yes, her…” Yuji confirms, trying to gauge Choso’s reaction. But Choso is still sulking, clearly annoyed that his afternoon plans with Yuji have officially been hijacked. “You know… she’s really nice. Always checking in on how school’s going. In fact, she was the one who offered to help me!” Yuji tries to cheer up the conversation.

“You could’ve just asked me for help!” Choso retorts, his tone dripping with faux indignation as he crosses his strong arms, frowning at his brother. 

“And when exactly did you become a master of subscripts in bulk and balancing chemical equations?” Yuji teases, clearly enjoying this little sparring match. 

Choso plops down at the kitchen table, pouting like a child denied dessert. “I could’ve helped you by reading the books first and then explaining it to you! You know I’ve gotten pretty good at explaining stuff by now!” He tries to sound defensive, but the corners of his mouth betray him, earning a chuckle from Yuji.

Just then, the doorbell rings, echoing through the apartment like a dramatic soundtrack. “Cho, please open the door for me, will you? I need a sec to finish here!” Yuji’s request sends Choso into a minor panic. He definitely wasn't prepared for this…greetings have never been his thing. But he stands up from his seat nonetheless "Just because it's you Yuji". He squares his shoulders, taking a deep breath, and dragging his feet toward the door. 

As he approaches it, he can't help wondering what he was getting himself into. Would this new girl find him weird? With a final gulp, he grasps the doorknob, hiding his nerves under his usual expressionless pout, the one Yuji calls his typical 'resting bitch face': He is now officially ready for the most awkward encounter of his life.

…

On the other side of the door, you stand, nervously clutching a couple of library books to your chest. They are your secret weapons for the afternoon, intended to help Yuji with his homework. 

When the door finally swings open, you are completely unprepared for what greets you…or better, who does:  there he stands,a well-built guy you've never seen around before, leaning nonchalantly against the doorframe, arms crossed, with an air of casually intimidating coolness. He is tall and pale, his skin seemingly untouched by sunlight for ages, giving him an otherworldly vibe. His eyes are heavy-lidded, dark circles framing them like a pair of ominous shadows, and he's studying you from head to toe as if you were a particularly perplexing puzzle. 

You soon realize who you were standing in front of: none other than Yuuji's legendary, ever-elusive older brother—the one your roommate dubbed “the ghost of the block” whenever he comes up in conversation. You’d heard the wildest theories about him: some claim he was a sort of anarchist scribbling deep thoughts on walls in the dead of night, while others insist he was part of a notorious gang that roamed the outskirts of Tokyo. Now, as you take in the towering figure before you, you can somewhat understand the origins of these myths. Still, you think most of them are definitely a bit too imaginative—like something out of a late-night anime binge. 

“Um, hi…” you manage to stammer after a while, your voice barely rising above the awkward silence that fills the air like thick fog. “Is Yuji home?” You shift your weight from one foot to the other, trying to look more composed than you feel. “I came to help him with his homework. I know he’s been struggling with advanced chemistry… it’s like a nightmare waiting to happen, right?” You attempt to lighten the mood with a joke, your smile widening in hopes of breaking the tension.

But the guy, who appears more or less your same age, doesn't seem to register your words. He simply stands there, studying you with an intensity that makes your heart race. You avert your gaze for a second, trying to catch some more information about him by his body language, but your gaze lands on his crossed-arms figure: he seems tense too, you can even see the outline of his impressive biceps flexing through the puckered fabric of his oversized shirt. 

Choso seems to notice your wandering stare and sighs deeply. He hides his embarrassment behind a wall of annoyance caused by your wandering eyes, even if he himself has already checked out the way your figure all wrapped up in an old oversized leather jacket appears so much smaller than his one. 

You quickly recompose yourself, finally daring to meet his unwavering stare. You feel a bit like a deer caught in headlights, every detail about you being scrutinized—the way you nervously hug your books, the slight tremor in your hands, the way your shoulders move as you speak. His gaze is shamelessly unyielding, and you can feel the awkwardness stretching like an elastic band, ready to snap.

A heavy silence envelops you two and you mentally kick yourself for being such a chatterbox in these kinds of situations. Why couldn’t you be one of those cool people who could effortlessly glide through awkward moments? Instead, you feel like a blabbering fool and decide it was best to just... stop talking.

Choso, however, is still lost in his own thoughts, his mind swirling with confusion. There is something unsettling in the pit of his stomach that he can't quite place. He doesn't trust you, not at all, and the idea of you being close to his brother doesn't sit well with him. But as you smile again, a genuine warmth behind your nervousness, he finds himself snapping back to reality.

“Sorry, I didn’t even introduce myself… I’m such a fool,” you say, bowing your head slightly in an awkward attempt to ease the tension but helplessly ending up betraying your own vow of silence. You remind him your name,not sure that Yuji has already prevented him of your arrival.  “I moved here a month ago. I don't think we were ever properly introduced before…” You flash another smile, and for a heartbeat, you can swear you've seen a faint blush creeping up his nose, right on the bold tattoo that marks his face.

He quickly presses his lips in an emotionless smile “Mhm… Choso,” he murmurs, finally stepping back to let you inside, the moment stretching out far longer than necessary. 

Choso… you take a moment to roll the name around in your head, savoring its mystery. You've never heard this name before but it seems fitting for someone like him… eye-catching, extravagant. Dressed in oversized, baggy clothes that swallow him whole, with his peculiar bangs carelessly falling over his forehead, just above the furrowed brows that give him a perpetually serious expression. He looks like the kind of guy you would usually meet in the dimly lit club you work in, all adorned in chains and vibing to hardcore EDM beats until dawn. But there's also something undeniably intriguing about him—a peculiar charm that makes him weirdly attractive despite his gruff demeanor.

As you step inside, the awkwardness of the scene stretches on: Choso stands next to you, a silent statue in the cramped corridor, while you internally debate whether to break the ice with a joke about his “ghostly” reputation. Thankfully, just as the tension reaches critical levels, Yuji’s familiar, friendly face pops out of the kitchen, like a ray of sunshine cutting through the clouds of your social anxiety. “Hi! You made it in the end!” He greets you enthusiastically.

“Hey Yuji! Told you I’d swing by to help today! I even hit up the campus library to grab some books… maybe they’ll help…” you say, trying to sound as casual as possible while internally cringing at your own nerdiness.

“Great! Anything could be useful at this point… I can’t thank you enough for your help, really. Advanced chemistry sounds like rocket science to me, eheh…” Yuji gesticulates wildly, taking a step closer and starting to bow comically, as if trying to convey the depths of his gratitude through exaggerated movements. 

“You really don’t need to thank me, Yuji… especially not after you saved our apartment from catching fire just a few weeks ago…” You smile back at him, glancing at Choso, whose eyes widen in shock at the mention of his little brother performing some kind of heroic act. He swallows soundly, making a mental note to return to the topic once you've left the apartment. 

“I even got the chance to meet your brother! We never had the chance to—” you shut yourself, unexpectedly feeling Choso tensing up once again beside you, suddenly aware he was the center of attention, which is clearly not his favorite place to be.

“Yeah… Cho’s a bit of a couch potato,” Yuji teases, throwing his brother under the bus with a playful grin. Choso in return, can't help shooting him a glare that could have melted steel. 

“Hey… it’s not that! I just… don’t have time to hang out a lot. I’m busy here at home,” he replies, his tone firm and proud, though you still can sense the discomfort lurking beneath his casual words. 

“Oh… that’s for sure, Cho…” Yuji laughs, barely dodging the dangerously intimidating glare from his brother. “Come in, please! We can start whenever you want. Let me grab my notes and a pen!” He ushers you into the kitchen, providing you with the opportunity to survey the apartment. You are pleasantly surprised to find it tidier than expected for a pair of guys living alone—definitely a far cry from the chaos that sometimes rages in your and Shizuru's shared apartment.

Yuji gestures for you to sit at the kitchen table, where Choso sat barely minutes before. “Make yourself at home! What can I offer you?” he asks, opening the fridge like a magician revealing his next trick while you remove your earphones and shrug off your beloved vintage oversized leather jacket.

Choso lingers silently by the doorway, watching you like a hawk. He notices how you seemed to curl into yourself, trying to occupy the least amount of space possible, yet your curious eyes dart around their apartment, making him feel oddly exposed—as if you could read into his deepest secrets by the way his favourite mug was decorated.  He surely notices the way you delicately place your earphones on the table like they are precious artifacts while your bag has been unceremoniously tossed aside. 

Just then, you catch him staring and manage to give him another timid smile, but his stoic mask doesn't budge a millimeter. Again. At this point you are sure he doesn't like you. At all…

“Don’t worry about me, Yuji…” you stammer, trying to fill the awkward silence. “A glass of water will be more than fine… Your apartment looks very cozy, guys.” You desperately attempt to keep the conversation flowing (and distract Choso from scrutinizing your every move.)

Yuji hands you a glass of water, and you down it in one gulp, your throat suddenly parched from both the walk and the weight of Choso’s gaze. Does he really intend to stare at you this whole time? 

Yuji plops down next to you, rifling through his notes to kick off the lesson. “What I really can’t wrap my head around in advanced chemistry are all those tiny signs you scribble above reactions, you know?” He fidgets with the pages until he finds what he meant, his notes looking like doodles from an adorable hyperactive child. “Here it is…” he says, handing you the notebook opened to a specific page, momentarily distracting you from your embarrassment.

Choso, however, seems to have eyes only for you. He notices how your hair fell over your face as you leaned in to read and feels a strange urge to understand what made you so captivating to his brother. His gaze lands on the small leather string around your neck, recognising that sort of tight necklace girls around the crowded Tokyo streets usually wear… Nobara says they're called 'chokers' but Choso couldn't really understand the ultimate meaning of those, ending up mentally scolding himself for being distracted by fashion trends when he should have been focusing on the lesson. 

Meanwhile, you have already launched into an enthusiastic explanation about superscripts and subscripts in chemistry,  Yuji completely engrossed, nodding along like a bobblehead. 

Choso tries to keep up at first, but quickly gives up when you start discussing the periodic table and isotopes, realizing he must have looked like a creep this whole time. He decides that you are more than capable of taking care of his little brother… for now. “I’ll be in my room in case you two need me…” his deep, rough voice breaks into your explanation, and you seize the moment to inform Yuji that you have to leave early today.

 “Okay, thank you...By the way, Yuji, I forgot to mention—I really have to head out by six today. Sorry about that. I work tonight. We can also continue another time; I’m available for as many lessons as you need before the test!” You hastily add.

“Yeah? Don’t worry about that… Work? Did you get a job already?” Yuji asks, his eyes lighting up, while Choso stops mid-step in the corridor, curiosity piqued.

“Yeah, I did! I’ve been working as a bartender in this small club for a week now. It’s called The Queen of the Night… you know, that little music pub nearby Shimokita…” you explain, your heart swelling with excitement. “I really enjoy it, actually! I’ve learned how to whip up colorful, scented cocktails, and the best part is that I’m in my natural element all night!” You giggle. 

“That sounds amazing! I know how much of a music lover you are…” Yuji exclaimes, his enthusiasm infectious “ so you usually work during the night, right? How late do you get off?” 

Choso finds himself fighting against the urge to eavesdrop as he makes his way down the hallway toward his room. The lively chatter coming from the kitchen have unexpectedly  ignited a spark of curiosity deep within him—a feeling he can't quite name. It tugs at the corners of his mind, compelling him to pivot on his heels and retrace his steps. So he casually strolls back into the kitchen, feigning nonchalance as he reaches for a Coke from the fridge, all the while straining to catch snippets of the conversation.

“Yeah… my shift usually runs from 8 pm until… well, sometimes sunrise,” you laugh lightly, your voice laced with a blend of humor and weariness as you noticed Choso’s return. “I guess the upside is that I get to watch the sun rising at the end of my shift…”

Yuuji’s smile falters momentarily, his eyes widening in disbelief. “Damn… so you’re telling me you work until 4 or 5 in the morning?” Choso catches the hint of concern in Yuji’s voice, a protective instinct inexplicably flaring up in him. The thought of you, his far too chatty neighbor, serving drinks amidst a sea of inebriated patrons somehow sends a wave of unease coursing through him. He envisions your graceful figure navigating the club, your outgoing personality potentially misinterpreted as an invitation for unwanted attention... The Coke can he had picked up now feels like a vice in his hand, his grip tightening involuntarily as his innate protectiveness surges within him—it simply doesn't sit right.

"Does anyone at least pick you up from there?" The words slip out before he can fully process them, surprising even himself. He turns his back to the counter, his tone harsher than intended, the concern bleeding through the facade of indifference he usually wore.

“Sorry?” You blink, taken aback by his sudden inquiry. 

“I asked if anyone usually picks you up when it’s that late,” Choso repeats, successfully trying to erase any hint of concern from his tone. “It’s not safe for a girl like you to be wandering the streets alone at that hour…” He turns to face you now, focusing on maintaining his usual stoic expression, but the intensity of his gaze betrays him the second your eyes meet. Was the ‘ghost of the block’ really checking on your safety?

“I… don’t worry about me. I’m used to it.” You manage to stammer, a mix of surprise and embarrassment creeping on your cheeks “I used to go to clubs even before I started working in one,” you reply, trying to downplay the gravity of the situation. Yet, the truth is that the thought of returning home all alone in the dead of night is still unsettling to you, regardless of how many times you already did it. You simply shrug, feeling exposed under the weight of Choso's piercing gaze, which narrows as he keeps on scrutinizing your fragile demeanor. Choso struggles to keep his composure, the dark images racing through his mind as he assesses your vulnerability weighing heavily on him. He knew all too well the kind of atrocities male humans are capable of, the kinds of men (not to mention other kinds of entities) who could take advantage of someone like you...or even worse. How could you be so carefree about it? Your nonchalant behaviour ignites a fierce anger within him.

“Tch…” he mutters, his eyes glazing over as he falls into his own thoughts. “All it takes is one creep…” he muses gravely to himself, the gravity of some mysterious memories settling like a storm cloud over him.

He's definitely hiding something-  you notice. Your eyes flicker nervously between Yuji and Choso, trying to make sense of the tension thickening in the room. Yuji, his usual carefree demeanor now clouded with concern, clears his throat before speaking up. “Cho’s right... don’t you have anyone who can walk you home? I can do it for you…” His offer hangs in the air, earnest and almost too sweet, and your chest tightens at the sight of his genuine care.

You shook your head quickly, hoping your refusal won't sting too much. “It’s really not a problem... I can handle it myself. Besides, you’ve got school, Yuji. You shouldn’t be out so late anyways..” The words feel too soft, almost like an apology, as if you are rejecting him in some way, but you can't quite bring yourself to hurt his feelings. And still, you can feel Choso’s eyes on you, sharp and unreadable, like he is secretly waiting for something more from you.

Yuji pauses, his face faltering for just a moment before he turns to his brother. “Okay... well, if not me…” he glances back at you, then to Choso. “Maybe Choso could walk you. Shouldn’t be a problem for him, right Cho?”

Your stomach drops. There it it again—the unspoken weight in Choso’s presence. The thought of being alone with him, of walking the streets at night with Yuji’s intimidating older brother, stirs a sudden anxiety in you. It's not that you don't trust Choso, but something about the silent intensity in his gaze makes you uneasy.

“No…” You interrupt a little too sharply, the words spilling out in haste. “There’s really no need, honestly.” You try to soften your tone, but it still feels rude, especially with the way Yuji’s hopeful eyes are now fixed on you. “It’s not dangerous at all. I even walk part of the way with a colleague. She lives just down the block,” you lie, the guilt curling in your chest.

Yuji and Choso exchange a quiet look—something unreadable passing between them. Yuji’s smile is a little strained as he speaks again, “Alright, then... but can you at least let us know when you’re home? We’ll still be worried…and don’t worry about waking us up: we’re kinda used to late nights, aren’t we Cho?” His attempt to lighten the mood falls flat, and Choso’s subtle shift in expression doesn't escape your notice. A faint widening of his eyes, barely perceptible, speaks volumes—of things only Yuji and him could fully understand. Choso tries to keep his composure once again, even if Yuji's blunt hint at the nightly missions Jujutsu High usually assign them has certainly caught him by surprise.

Choso doesn't speak, just gives a small nod in agreement, and you finally relent, your lips curling into a tentative smile in gratitude. You can feel the weight of his silence pressing in as he turns away. His broad frame leans against the kitchen counter, arms crossed tightly over his chest. For a moment, you think he might say something more—but instead, he simply leaves the room, his heavy footsteps fading into the distance, leaving behind a silence that felt far too loud in the aftermath.

You tried your best to refocus on your study session with Yuji afterwards, but your mind kept drifting back to Choso: there was something about the way he had looked at you before—a look that stirs a strange, unsettling feeling. It isn't fear, not exactly, but there is a tension there that you can't ignore. Is he really the cold, dangerous figure everyone said he is? Or is he just... awkward, a big guy in a world too small for him? You can't really understand it. And as your study session wears on, you are remembered about the  agreement you came to before, resigned to feel that unsettling pull in your chest again later tonight…

[amaranthinespirit]

loser!könig would fall asleep with his face buried in your pussy.

his breaths light and feathery as drool drips down from his lips, glistening from your juices, and mixing with your sticky arousal.

his massive paws that dug into the fat of your hips now loosen their bruising grip, limply laying on your skin. his grinding hips haltered their motions of humping against the couch cushions, now relaxed in the bliss of your pussy.

you're just so warm, schatz, how could you expect him to not be lulled to sleep by the drooling warmth of your cunt? you can't blame him, he's never eaten pussy before, he didn't know it'd be this blissful! your plush thighs acting as a pillow against his head, short chopped hair causing goosebumps to rise along your flesh.

his nose putting pressure on your clit, warm breaths inhaling your musky scent that kept him groaning and his hips twitching, even in unconsciousness.

your soft mewls that spewed from your lips were like a lullaby to him, further lulling him in a deep, peaceful rest. his tongue still lapped lazily at your slit, slurping and suckling up your sweet juices that dribbled down his chin, glistening under the dim lights.

he's a sleep talker too, mumbling words into your puffy folds as he nips at your clit, "mmm, smell so good, schatz...taste so sweet too, like honey..." his voice is rough with sleep, almost incoherent.

and he'd be out for the night, that is unless you pulled his face back from your soaked cunt, overstimulated and sensitive from the slow releases he drew out from you.

he'd groan, eyes fluttering open as he tugged you by your hips, stuffing his face and indulging once again into his pretty girl's cunt, mumbling about how you'll have to let him eat you out at every chance if this is what it's like every time. you'll let him because the big, awkward brute doesn't quite know how to handle rejection, probably how you ended up in this situation.

[mariasont]

Early seasons Spencer’s gf joining the team and quickly realizing just how used to Spencer she is bc the rest of the team’s reactions to him are so different from hers

Cinnamon Sticks - S.R

a/n: obsessed with the idea of baby spencie having a gf who just gets him while he's still an awkward, nerdy little genius! thanks for requesting bestie so sorry it took so long i am the worst LOL

masterlist

pairings: early!seasons!spencer reid x fem!reader

warnings: established relationship, secret relationship, relationship being exposed bc these two are just so in love

wc: 1.7k

Garcia burst into the bullpen like some sort of whirlwind that was painted in neon, her scarf fluttering behind her almost like a cape. She juggled a precariously full cup of coffee, while her phone teetered between ear and shoulder as if testing the limits of human dexterity.

"I swear to all that is holy, if my life doesn't slow down in the next five minutes--"

The sentence derailed as she misjudged her pace, the coffee sloshing dangerously close to the rim of the cup. She stopped abruptly, her arms a flurry of motion, but not quick enough to stop the scalding liquid from spilling over and searing her fingers.

"Oh, fantastic! Just what I needed!" she huffed, waving her hand like it might stop the sting.

She threw herself into the closest chair with a huff, slumping back and fixing the coffee cup with a murderous glare, like this was just another tally in a long line of grievances.

Your eyes darted up from your work, only for a moment, enough to confirm what you already knew. You hadn't been working here long, but it was long enough to recognize the phenomenon that was Garcia: a blur of motion and words, mid-rant before anyone had the chance to catch up. It was like clockwork really.

You risked a glance across the desk at Spencer, who was so absorbed in his notebook it was a wonder he even remembered to breathe. If Garcia's antics registered as white noise to anyone, it was him. But then, almost like he had a radar for being watched, he looked up, catching your gaze.

His eyebrows lifted into a subtle what can you do? expression, and you couldn't help but smile back.

That was the thing about Spencer. He had this uncanny knack for knowing exactly what you were thinking, almost as if he had a cheat sheet for your brain. And maybe he did--like his brain worked three times faster than everyone else's in the room (which, let's face it, it definitely did). But instead of that being intimidating, it was oddly reassuring.

"At this rate, I'm one bad email away from alphabetizing my entire pantry for stress relief."

Spencer's notebook hit the desk, and there it was--the shift. His shoulders drew back, face lighting up--the kind of thing that signaled his mini-lecture was incoming.

"Organizing your pantry is actually a practical stress management technique. By categorizing items, you create a structured environment that reduces decision fatigue. Its why people feel calmer in tidy spaces, it's psychological."

Morgan held up a hand. "Psychological, huh? Sounds like you’re just trying to justify your weird love affair with labels, pretty boy.”

“Don’t forget,” you added absently, flipping a page in your report, “it also saves time when you’re cooking. I think you called it practical efficiency."

The words slipped out without much thought, but as soon as they did, the bullpen stilled. You glanced up, heart sinking as you saw every face turned in your direction.

Morgan’s grin was the first thing you notice--wide and knowing, stretching across his face. He tilted his head, eyes bouncing between you and Spencer like he was putting pieces together in real time.

“Wait a minute,” he said, sitting forward with a gleam in his eye. “Did you just quote him? Like, word for word?”

Your cheeks heated instantly. “What? No. I mean—maybe. I don’t know.”

“Pretty sure you did,” Morgan shot back, smirking. “Man, what else has he been teaching you? You got the periodic table memorized too?”

You rolled your eyes, leaning back in your chair. “Oh, please. If you’ve been around Spencer long enough, you’re bound to pick up a few things. He’s like a walking encyclopedia.”

“Well,” Spencer said, his head tilting slightly as he spoke, “your cinnamon sticks always end up at the back of your pantry. That’s why I figured you might appreciate the idea of organizing by use frequency. Like I said, practical efficiency.”

The moment the words left his mouth, you knew he’d made a tactical error.

Garcia gasped, her eyes lighting up like she’d just been handed the juiciest piece of gossip of her life. 

“Oh. My. God. Spencer Reid, how exactly do you know what the back of her pantry looks like?”

You froze, rooted to the spot as the realization hit you like a cartoon anvil. This was bad.

Spencer’s expression mirrored yours for half a second—wide-eyed panic—but he quickly scrambled for an answer. 

“It’s, um… a logical assumption,” he stammered, his fingers toying with the pen in his hand, a nervous tell he couldn’t quite suppress. “Spices like cinnamon sticks always seem to migrate to the back of the pantry unless there’s an intentional system in place.”

Morgan let out a long, low whistle, rocking back in his chair with enough force to make it creak. His grin was insufferably smug, the kind that practically begged for something to be thrown at him. 

“Nice save. But I don’t think Garcia’s buying it.”

Garcia tapped her chin, clearly enjoying herself far too much. “Oh, no, no, no. This is too good. I mean, logical assumption my fabulous behind! Cinnamon sticks in the back of her pantry? Really? What’s next? A detailed analysis of how she stacks her cereal boxes?”

You laughed, though it sounded more like a bark than anything natural. “You’re all reading way too much into this. Spencer just knows weirdly specific things about, well, everything. That’s kind of his thing, remember?”

“Mmhmm,” Garcia hummed, clearly unconvinced. “Alright, genius, I’ll let it slide this time. But I’m watching you.”

“Please don’t,” Spencer muttered under his breath, earning a round of laughter from the team.

Garcia spent a solid ten minutes in full interrogation mode after that, her eyes narrowing with each and every pointed question she lobbed your way. Morgan, of course, was no help. He leaned back, grinning like a kid with a front-row seat to the circus, his smirk practically screaming that he knew they were this close to striking a nerve.

Spencer and you had been so careful. You'd been dating long before you joined the BAU, but the moment Hotch had called to offer you the position, you both knew you'd have to keep things under wraps. Dating a coworker was one thing; dating Spencer Reid, a genius with an accidentally too-honest mouth, was an entirely different challenge.

You hadn't expected it to be this hard, though. Keeping the secret wasn't the worst part--it was pretending he wasn't the center of your universe every time you walked into the room. It was keeping your hands to yourself when all you wanted to do was smooth out the messy strands of hair that always fell into his eyes. It was biting your tongue when someone interrupted his long-winded tangents because the truth was, you loved hearing him talk.

The hours stretched on, and the bullpen slowly thinned out. Garcia was the first to leave, blowing a kiss to the room. Morgan left soon after, pausing to flash you one last grin before disappearing. Even Prentiss packed up for the night, muttering something about needed an extra shot of espresso tomorrow morning.

"You handled that well."

You looked up from your report to find Spencer by your desk, one hand tucked into his pocket, the other skimming lightly along the edge of the divider. His expression was surprisingly soft, almost bashful, as though he had been waiting to get you alone.

"Handled that well?" you repeated, raising an eyebrow. "You were the one who almost blew it, Spencer. Cinnamon sticks? Really?"

He smiled, lips twitching upward as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Okay, I'll admit that wasn't my most subtle moment. But in my defense, they do end up at the back of most pantries."

You couldn't help but laugh, shaking your head as you leaned back in your chair. 

"We're lucky Garcia got distracted. If she'd pushed any harder..." Your voice drifted into a soft sigh. "That could've been bad."

"That was a close one."

The quiet that followed wasn't uncomfortable, but it felt a little more substantial, if that was the word, filled with that soft ache that always bloomed in your chest when he was near. 

Spencer stepped closer, his hand brushing against the edge of your desk. His body angled toward you, like even when you weren’t touching, he couldn’t help but gravitate toward you.

“You know,” he said, his voice softer now, “I don’t think she actually suspects anything. But we should probably be more careful.”

"Probably," you replied, drawing out the word in a teasing, sing-song tone. “Unless you’d rather keep showing off how ridiculously well you know me.”

His cheeks flushed a soft pink, but he didn’t look away. Instead, that shy, boyish smile—the one that always made you a little breathless—spread across his lips.

"That's going to be hard," he admitted, voice barely above a whisper. "I noticed a lot about you."

The words hit you like they always did--soft enough, but with the force of a thousand butterflies taking flight in your chest. You could feel the flush creeping up to your neck, and you mentally cursed him for how easily he was able to do this to you.

"You're lucky I like you."

His smile widened, and his eyes crinkled at the corners in that way they only came out at specific moments. Like when he successfully performed a card trick for the team or when he stumbled across an original copy of a book at a library sale. 

The same one you'd seen when he talked about his mom on her good days, or when you asked him on a date. 

You leaned forward. "And since I like you, any chance you'd want to kiss me right now?"

"How could I not, with you looking at me like that?"

The angle was clumsy--your chair too low, his frame leaning awkwardly over--but all of that melted away the second his hands found your face. His thumbs brushed soft circles against the place where your cheek met your jaw.

His lips were soft against yours at first, testing, before growing firmer, more sure. The kind of confidence that came with a hundred familiar kisses before. 

Time seemed to slow, or at least for you it did, the rest of the world nonexistent.

The sound of a throat clearing broke the spell, and you jerked back from Spencer, your chair wobbling slightly as you turned toward the sound. You immediately regretted it--your lips felt swollen, your face hot, and there was Prentiss, leaning against the doorframe.

"We were... uh, testing something," you blurted, avidly avoiding eye contact. "You know, like... oxygen exchange! For scientific purposes."

Spencer blinked, then mumbled, "Oxygen exchange? That's the best you got?"

"Shut it," you hissed through gritted teeth, not daring to look at him.

Prentiss arched a brow. "Relax, lovebirds. If this is your idea of scientific research, I'll make sure Garcia doesn't find out. You're welcome."

taglist: @readergf @edencherries @aurorsworld @princess76179 @malindacath @broadwaytraaaaash @r-3dlips @m-indkiller @sunfyyre @sleepysongbirdsings @trulycayla @reiderrambles @averyhotchner @hbwrelic @sky2nd @messylxve @alexxavicry @doigettokeepyou @pleasantwitchgarden @kodzukenmaaa @hiireadstuff @dilflover-3 @spenciesslut @phoenix-le-danseur-de-pole @c-losur3 @theylovemelody @alahnizamolo @oliver-1270 @ssahotchbabe @savagemickey03 @justanotherbimboslxt @imoonkiss @spiderladyleah @estragos @khxna @spencerssoup @de-duchess @raysmayhem-72 @piinksdoll @reidfile @sugarbutterbailey @aecd27 @persephonestears @moonyxstars @xxmooxmooxx @spookyysinsanity @proxxyshouse @spoolsofgreenspoolsofblack @jungchloee @she-wont-miss @duchesz @i2rapunzel @historicallyqueer

join my taglist here!

[eloquentlytired]

Logan with a breeding kink fic? 😉

18+ mdni

— raw.

pairing: logan howlett x fem reader

word count: less than 900

tags: unprotected sex — breeding — logan is feral — just filthy smut — risky sex — dom/sub undertones

author’s note: hi anon I hope this was a good read for you. logan having a breeding kink is so incredibly canon honestly

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“lo.” you moan as you lie facedown on the bed, legs straight, hips slightly raised. logan enters you from behind and the way he stretches you in this position has you whimpering. one of his large hands puts weight on your head and forces you to bury it against the bedsheets as you sob beneath him. his other hand stays on your middle to kind of support himself as he fucks you, driving his veiny cock into your deepest parts. the bed creaks beneath your moving bodies but you don't seem to care. logan grunts as he feels your pussy clenching around his cock, coating it too with your arousal. “still taking your pills like a good girl?” the shake of your head makes his hips slow down and gradually stop. you tilt your head at an awkward angle to stare at him and he stares back. “w—we ran out.” you whisper, voice still laced with arousal and need. logan weighs his options as his eyes drift downwards where his cock is completed soaked by your wetness and even his pubic hair drip with the doings of your pussy. his bare cock twitches inside you and you moan. “not safe,lo. let's just—”

there's not much you can do in this position when logan starts thrusting again. you take what he gives you and your eyes roll back when the fat head of his cock kisses your sweet spot, making your entire body shake all over. tears of pleasure slide down your cheeks and he leans down to kiss a tender spot on your shoulder before biting down. he grounds his hips in circles and you almost scream. “there— there,lo.” you beg him and he repeats the motion again and again. when your pussy tightens around him as you cum, logan growls into your shoulder and you can sense him growing more feral over you. your hands grip onto the bedsheets for dear life as you drool and cry against the mattress. logan drives his cock faster inside you and a few more thrusts later he fills you up, leaning the weight of his lower body on yours that his cock nudges impossible places within you. it makes you squirm and logan offers you a reassuring kiss as he pants against your shoulder, trying to process the raw feel of your walls around his bare girth.

“fuck.” you hear him curse minutes later and when you look back, your eyes widen. logan slips his softening cock out of your pussy and watches as his own come drips out and over your cunt. you exchange a silent and long stare and then logan is moving you again. you don't know what's happening or why but you're about to.

you've lost count and you've also lost any sanity left for the time being. you drag a hand over your belly as logan pumps his load inside you again, making your thighs shake from where they sit atop his own. you're laying on your back this time while he gets comfortable between your spread legs, breeding you until the late hours. “one last time. I swear,baby.” he lies through his teeth again and you allow it. logan slips his hands underneath your legs and shoves them back until your knees are nearly touching your chest. his cock is still hard and leaking — he'd really done it this time — and he wants to blame your bare cunt for wrapping around his cock so perfectly. you're tired and your pussy feels a little sore but you can't help but reach a wandering hand to your clit and rub it as logan fucks you mercilessly. his balls are heavy and drag against you with each shallow thrust. your entire body shakes and your other hand remains atop your stomach; you're full, so full, and your toes curl when you think about how much of logan’s seed you've stored in your womb.

“lo—” you're letting go again, your entire body spasming as your fingers shake against your swollen clit. logan’s eyes narrow when he watches you squirt beneath him and one of his hands is moving down to toy with your pussy, his fingers moving past yours and past your clit to tease the source of your squirt. it makes you cry and nearly scream. logan feels his balls tighten and before you know it he's already giving it to you again, spilling everything inside your pussy to make it full. to make his seed take place. “lo.” by the time you call for him he's already slipping a hand around your nape, clutching it, while his other hand joins your own on top of your stomach.

your lips meet and logan soothes you. “so pretty, so sweet. you took so much in ya, princess.” and his whispers make you tremble even more as you kiss him back slowly. his kisses are nothing like the way he fucks you; they're slow, patient and gentle. logan hums into your mouth as you wrap your arms around his neck. his fingers flex upon your stomach, even doing so much as squeeze it. he loves it. “how ‘bout we forget about those pills?” logan growls.

his cock doesn't stay soft for long and when his hand presses into your tummy possessively, you know exactly what awaits you.

[sematarygirls]

        BOYFRIEND!RAFE x ANXIOUS!READER

WARNINGS .ᐟ protected p in v, oral (f! receiving), established relationship, loss of virginity, reader and rafe being dorks, slow sex, these bitches do not shut up, reader is very insecure about her body and of course, has anxiety

NOTES .ᐟ this is representation for all my anxious and insecure girlies who giggle and blurt out random stuff when they're nervous (aka me)

You and Rafe were both on his bed making out, him laying underneath you as you straddled his waist—his idea, of course, citing that it would be more comfortable for both of you that way. "You better just have something in your pocket," you jokingly mumbled against his lips, feeling something distinctly hard and suspiciously close to his dick pressing against you.

You had a tendency to make a lot of dumb jokes and laugh when you were nervous, blurting out whatever came to mind before you could decide against it, which was ironic since overthinking was a second nature to you. You were shy and got nervous a lot, especially around Rafe. He was your first boyfriend and the hottest guy you'd ever laid your eyes on, neither of which helping your nerves.

Rafe's hands slipped under your shirt to touch your bare skin, holding you firmly on his lap. "Wouldn't you like to know," his smirk was teasing as he pulled back from the kiss to peer up at you.

"Uh, yeah, that's kind of the whole point of asking," you also pulled back, sitting up as you smiled down at him. You liked it when Rafe went along with your stupid jokes, bantering with you to put you at ease. He never made you feel weird or awkward for using humor to cope with your anxiety.

"Well, if you must know, I'm packing heat," Rafe quipped with a mischievous grin, his grip on your hips tightening.

You gasped exageratedly, feigning shock. "You have a gun?" You knew very well what he meant, but when did that ever stop you from saying something stupid?

He snorted, his blue eyes shining with amusement. "Yeah, I have a gun in my pants because that makes so much sense," he replied sarcastically, finding your nervous humor endearing.

"Okay, Mr. Sassypants," you rolled your eyes playfully, your palms resting on his chest as a smile pulled at your lips.

"Mr. Sassypants?" Rafe repeated, raising an eyebrow. "You know, that's not a very nice thing to call your loving, patient, and amazingly sexy boyfriend."

"Well, I can't help that my loving, patient, and amazingly sexy boyfriend is such a diva," you grinned, feeling his chest rise and fall, his heart beating steadily under your fingertips.

"Diva?" He gasped in mock offense, his hands sliding up your sides. "I'll show you a diva." In one swift motion, he flipped your positions, pinning you beneath him.

You laughed, looking up at him with a smile despite the anxiety gnawing at you. He had a way of putting your mind at ease with just one look, and the soothing circles he was rubbing on your skin were definitely helping. He stared back at you, his gaze softening. He loved your smile and the way your eyes sparkled when you laughed. Truthfully, he loved everything about you, even your innate ability to make everything a tad bit awkward.

His eyes searched yours intently, searching for any signs that you wanted him to stop. Noticing his serious turn of demeanor and his intense gaze, you felt your cheeks heat up. "Oh, cmon, don't get all serious on me now," you rolled your eyes, trying to lighten the mood.

"Well, I take my role as your boyfriend very seriously," he grinned, leaning down to kiss your neck. "And, it wouldn't be very boyfriendly of me to let you go on without knowing the wonders of sex."

"Oh, right, of course, it would be for my benefit," you giggled, your heart racing at the idea of being intimate with him. You weren't exactly against the idea, but you were still a virgin, and the idea of being with someone like that was undoubtedly nerve-racking.

You could feel Rafe smile against your skin, his hands sliding farther up your sides. "Uh huh, always thinking of what's best for my girl."

"Wow, who knew you were so selfless?" You giggled, biting your lip as he nipped as your skin. Your fingers slotted into his hair as he continued to kiss and suck at your neck, his hot breath fanning against your heated skin.

"I'm a saint, what can I say?" He mumbled, his tone teasing. He was being careful, trying to reassure you without actually saying anything because he knew you'd prefer to keep things as lighthearted as possible to make you forget about how serious the moment actually was. He could tell you were nervous, and he was determined to make you as comfortable as possible.

"Uh huh, a saint," you smiled as he slowly, tentatively pushed your shirt up your body. He was giving you time to tell him to stop, maybe even slap him if you wanted to, but you didn't. As much as you felt like you were going to die on the spot at the idea of him seeing you naked, you trusted him, and you wanted this.

"I am but a humble servant of my sexy girlfriend," he pulled back from your neck to search your eyes again, pausing for a moment before your shirt revealed your bra. You gave him a small nod, and he smiled, tugging the shirt over your head as you leaned up a little and lifted your arms to help him. He threw the shirt aside, eyes roaming your skin, as if memorizing every detail. "God, you're beautiful," he breathed out.

"Shut up," you said bashfully, your heart beating faster under his intense gaze. There was a voice in the back of your head telling you that you weren't pretty enough for him, that he would hate how you looked, and that was why you preferred to fill the silence with easy jokes and stupid quips. It made it easier to silence that nagging part of you that thought you weren't good enough for him.

"No, I mean it," he insisted, his fingers slowly tracing the lace edging of your bra. "You're like, way too pretty to be real. I mean, look at you." There was a sincerity to his words that he couldn't fake, an edge of awe and pure unbridled devotion that made your head spin.

The way he looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered, the way he touched you like he worshipped every inch of you—it was all overwhelming in the best possible way. It had you scrambling in your mind to say something, anything, even if that something was a dumb dick joke.

"I bet you're thinking about saying something stupid, aren't you?" he asked, a knowing smirk on his face as he leaned down to pepper kisses over your collarbones and down the swell of your cleavage.

"I never say anything stupid," you breathed out, as he kissed the skin that wasn't hidden behind your bra. It made your heart flutter that he knew you so well, but it also made you realize how awfully predictable you were.

"Uh huh and I'm the Queen of England," he retorted sarcastically, reaching up to slide one of your bra straps down your shoulder, kissing the bare sliver of skin that was revealed.

"Oh my God, you are?" You gasped, his remark loading you with the perfect ammunition to say something stupid. "Pleasure to make your acquaintance, your highness."

"Mmm, flattery will get you everywhere," he murmured, his breath hot against your skin as he continued to kiss and touch you, slipping your other strap off. He slowly unhooked your bra, his eyes meeting yours as he paused, asking for silent permission. You bit the inside of your cheek nervously before nodding.

He pulled your bra off almost instantly, his gaze sweeping over your bare chest. You felt so vulnerable beneath his gaze, resisting the urge to cover yourself. "Okay, your turn, pretty boy," you swiftly said, trying to ease your nerves and figuring you might be a little more comfortable if you weren't the only half-naked one.

"Yes, ma'am," He smirked, leaning back to pull his own shirt off, revealing his muscular chest. You couldn't help but stare, eyes roaming over his abs and the way his muscles flexed as he tossed his shirt aside. He settled back over you, his hands sliding up your sides. "Better?"

"You are annoyingly hot," you huffed, finding it completely unfair that someone as perfect as him could even exist, let alone be on top of you right now.

"Aw, you're just saying that because you want in my pants," he teased, his hands sliding up your sides to cup your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples. "But I can't blame you, I am pretty irresistible." He leaned down, swallowing the small gasp you let out at his touch as he captured your mouth in a deep, heated kiss.

"That's slander," you mumbled into his mouth, wrapping your arms around his neck and curling your fingers into his hair as you pulled him closer.

"Mmm, then sue me," he murmured against your lips before trailing kisses along your jaw and down your neck, slowly making his way to your chest.

Your eyes fluttered shut at the feeling of his soft lips on your skin. He was ridiculously skilled with his mouth, knowing exactly how and where to kiss you to drive you crazy. "Yknow what, maybe I will," you retorted breathlessly, your chest rising and falling a little faster.

"I think we can come to some sort of settlement out of court," He paused, his hot breath washing over your skin before he slowly, deliberately wrapped his lips around one of your peaks, swirling his tongue around it. "What do you think?"

Your lips parted at the feeling, intaking a sharp breath of air. "Uh, yeah, yknow that could work maybe," you grinned, your fingers gently tugging at his hair as he ravished your tits with attention.

"Mmm, I thought it might," he hummed with a cocky grin, switching to give equal attention to your other breast, your back arching ever so slightly, urging him closer. He smirked against your skin, making his way lower and leaving a trail of wet kisses in his wake. His hands slid down your sides to your hips, fingers curling around the waistband of your pants.

"Hey, wait, I don't want to be naked first," you protested, only half joking. You would rather die than be fully naked in front of him while he sits there with his clothes on.

"Oh, trust me, I have no intention of leaving my pants on any longer than necessary," He assured you with a mischievous grin, slowly unbuttoning your jeans, his knuckles brushing against your skin.

"Yeah, 'cause you're a freak," you grinned, moving on to the making fun of your boyfriend portion of the program in an attempt to soothe the pit of nausea in your stomach. You were kind of scared, not that you wanted to be lame and admit that.

"Hey, I resent that," He protested, but his tone conveyed the opposite message as he tugged your jeans and underwear down your legs in one smooth, expert motion, his gaze never leaving yours. "I'm just enthusiastic, that's all."

"Enthusiastically a whore," you snorted, letting your head fall back, staring at the ceiling. You'd really rather not see yourself naked right now, not with the amount of anxiety already coursing through your veins. You did not need a reminder of what Rafe was seeing.

"Whore?" He teased, his fingers dancing along your inner thighs. "I think you mean an amazing boyfriend who loves you and wants to make you feel good."

You hummed thoughtfully. "Uh, no, I'm pretty sure I mean whore," you grinned, reluctantly looking down at him despite yourself.

"Well, this whore is about to rock your world," He smirked, slowly trailing kisses up your inner thigh, gripping your hips. "Just relax and let me do all the work." His voice was low and seductive, his intentions clear.

"You're such an idiot," you laughed at his cheesy choice of words, a little nervous that the witty banter would have to be put on hold. He can't exactly respond to your sarcastic remarks with his mouth occupied.

He hummed, his breath hot against your core. Your breathing picked up, and you were unsure whether it was anticipation or if you were on the verge of a panic attack.

He slowly dragged his tongue along your slit, groaning at your taste on his tongue and the subsequent gasp that fell from your lips, making his painfully hard cock twitch in his jeans. His hands gripped your thighs, spreading them further apart and opening you up to him. He had dreamed of this moment, imagined this exact scenario about a half a dozen times as he got himself off, and now that it was actually happening, he was going to relish every moment.

He began to eat you out like a man starved, his tongue delving deep inside your tight heat, familiarizing himself with every inch of you. His nose nudged at your clit, sending a jolt of pleasure through you that pulled a low whine from your throat. Your fingers threaded into his hair, moaning at the unfamiliar pleasure.

His fingers replaced his tongue, his mouth moving up to the sensitive bundle of nerves and sucking it into his mouth, determined to send you over the edge. He pushed his fingers deep inside and curled them, finding that spot that made your back arch and your hips buck against his mouth.

"Rafe," his name left your lips a breathy whimper as your head fell back against his pillows. Rafe was no stranger to having women under him, writhing and moaning his name, but something about it being you made him crazy. It took all his self-control not to blow his load in his pants right there and then.

He redoubled his efforts, eager to make you cum, rubbing that sweet spot inside you with ruthless precision and sucking on your clit, his tongue swirling around your sensitive nub. Another moan fell from your lips, your grip on his hair bordering on painful as you felt your orgasm wash over you, your legs practically shaking at the intense pleasure.

He groaned as he felt you spasm around his fingers, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you tried to catch your breath. He slowly pulled away, grinning as he took in your dazed expression. He carefully slipped his fingers from your quivering hole, bringing them to his mouth. He couldn't help the moan that rumbled low in his throat as he tasted you on his tongue. God, you were perfect.

His eyes flicked up to yours as his tongue darted out to lick his lips clean. "Good, huh?" He asked, his tone smug. He knew it had been good, but he wanted to hear you say it.

"I'm gonna slap that stupid look off your face," you playfully rolled your eyes, your skin practically burning up with embarrassment.

"I think that would take our case from a civil lawsuit to a criminal assault charge," he grinned, calling back to your previous joke about taking him to court. He positioned himself over you again to press his lips against yours, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

"It's my first offense and a misdemeanor," you mumbled into the kiss, cupping his face. "Worst I'll get is a fine, so... totally worth it."

"Okay, smartass," he pulled away, brushing a strand of hair away from your face, gazing down at you lovingly.

"Just saying," you smiled softly up at him, his hair falling into his face and his blue eyes sparkling. He really loved you, and it was evident just from the way he looked at you. He'd never felt anything like it before. He loved you so much it terrified him.

But, of course, you had to ruin the moment of peace because shutting up was not something you were wired to do, especially not in the face of such charged silence. "Your little friend is poking me again," you blurted out the words before you could stop yourself. Little friend? You really couldn't have come up with anything else?

Rafe couldn't help the chuckle that escaped his lips as he rocked his hips against you, making you gasp softly. "He's just happy to see you." His eyes crinkled at the corners as he grinned down at you, his fingers absently tracing along your side.

"Okay, well, can you tell him I don't really know him like that, so maybe he should calm down a little bit," you couldn't help but laugh at the ridiculousness of it all, but you loved it, and you loved him. He understood you in a way you never thought you'd be understood by anyone.

"He says he's not planning on staying a stranger for much longer," he smirked, his hips rolling against yours.

"This is actually so stupid," you giggled, your hand covering your mouth as you laughed beneath him.

"Oh, now it's stupid?" He rolled his eyes, a genuine smile tugging at his lips. "You're the one who started it."

"Shut up," you smiled, leaning up to kiss him. "Okay, okay, you can... start now, I guess," you said awkwardly. There was only so long that you could stall with stupid dick jokes. Besides, you felt a little bad that he had been so patient and undoubtedly, extremely hard.

"About time," he murmured with faux annoyance, his voice low as he fiddled with his belt buckle and pulled it through the loops, tossing it aside before popping the button on his jeans and slowly unzipping them.

You sucked in a breath, trying to calm your nerves as the sound of him pulling his jeans off seemed to echo through the room. You wanted this. You knew you did, but you couldn't help the pit of fear in your stomach.

He paused, feeling your body tense beneath him as you took a deep breath, a sign he knew all too well. "Hey, look at me," he coaxed softly, cupping your face and stroking your cheek with his thumb. "We don't have to do anything you don't want to do. We can wait if you're not ready. Just tell me to stop, and I will, no questions asked, no hard feelings. We can just forget all about it," he reassured you.

Your heart fluttered as you heard your boyfriend's words, meeting his gaze and seeing the sincerity behind his eyes. "No, I- I want to. I'm just... scared, yknow," you bit your lip nervously, mentally kicking yourself. You always seemed to be scared. There probably wasn't a single thing in the world that you weren't scared of.

"Hey, hey, hey, it's okay," he soothed, pressing gentle kisses to your face, your neck, your collarbone—anywhere he could reach. "There's nothing wrong with being scared. It's your first time. If you weren't scared, that would be a little concerning."

You laughed softly at his words. "You just make sure you wrap it up. I don't know where you've been," you joked. "Safe sex is great sex as the Lil Wayne once wisely said."

He chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. "Lil Wayne, huh? I didn't know he moonlighted as a sex ed teacher." He reached into his bedside table, pulling out a foil packet and waving it in front of your face. "But don't worry, I'm always prepared."

"Jesus, that's a lot of condoms," you said, peering into his drawer and seeing way more condoms than you realistically thought one person would need. "You are a whore of massive proportions. Like, literally a menace to the female population."

"Oh, hush," he grinned, tearing open the packet and rolling the latex down over his length. "I bought them in bulk. You know, for... emergencies," He waggled his eyebrows suggestively, leaning back down to press kisses to your skin once more.

"Eugh," you giggled, your face scrunching up in disgust. "I genuinely do not want to know what a sex emergency is."

"Hey, a guy's gotta be prepared, okay?" He murmured against your neck, his breath warm. "Now, are you going to keep talking, or are you going to let me kiss you and calm you the hell down?"

"Yo, I am literally so calm," you rolled your eyes, lying through your teeth in the name of comedy and also not sounding like the total little loser virgin you were. "So calm and so chill. Literally have never been calmer or chiller in my life."

"Uh-huh," he hummed, clearly unconvinced as he pressed a soft kiss to your jaw, his fingers slowly trailing down your side, his touch gentle. "Because nothing says 'calm and chill' like sex jokes and rambling like you're on speed."

"Well, I can't help that I'm the funniest person alive," you argued, the realization dawning on you that you were naked, and he was naked, which meant there was only so many more sex jokes you could make before the sex actually commenced.

"You're not even in the top five funniest people I know," he teased, his fingers reaching your hip as he slowly pulled you closer, the heat of his body pressing against yours.

"Oh, you got jokes, huh?" You grinned, nervously giggling when you felt his tip nudge at your entrance. "You better take that back if you wanna get laid tonight."

"I think I'll stick with my original statement," he said, his voice low and husky as he pressed forward, the head of his dick pushing into you slowly as he rubbed soothing circles on your hip. "You're just not funny enough to make the cut, sweetheart."

You sucked in a sharp breath through your teeth, wincing at the painful sensation. You grabbed his bicep for support, digging your nails into his arm. "Liar," you joked weakly, your chest heaving as you breathed through the intrusion.

"Shh, just breathe," he whispered against your neck, his voice low and soothing as he paused, letting you adjust to the foreign feeling. "You're doing so good, baby. You're taking it like a champ."

"Okay, don't call me champ while you're inside me," you grimaced, trying to keep the conversation lighthearted as you slowly adjusted to having him inside you.

"You okay, baby?" He asked softly, pushing the slightest bit further into you as he examined your reaction closely.

"Oh, yeah, just peachy," you said sarcastically. The pain was gradually starting to fade, making the whole thing more enjoyable by the second. Though, the pressure between your thighs was intense.

"Mhm, you're a real ray of sunshine," he chuckled softly, pushing the rest of the way into you, his body shuddering as he bottomed out. He was as deep as he could go, his hips flush against yours.

You gasped as he pressed all the way into you, your grip on his bicep tightening. "You're gonna look like you got mauled by a lion after this," you panted out, apologetic for the involuntary response.

"I'd wear that badge of honor proudly," he said, his voice thick with amusement as he slowly began to move, his hips rolling against yours in a gentle, soothing rhythm. "Now, shut up and let me make love to you."

"Don't say 'make love' either. That's so gross," you giggled softly, a breathy moan falling from your lips as he set a slow, pleasurable pace.

"Then what would you prefer I call it?" He murmured, his lips brushing against your ear as he continued his steady movements, the friction building between your bodies. "'Coitus'? 'Intercourse'? 'Fucking'?" He punctuated each word with a sharp thrust of his hips.

You moaned, your head falling back against the pillows and brows pinching in pleasure. Okay, you were definitely starting to see what all the fuss was about. "Let's just not refer to what's happening right now as anything at all."

"Mhm, I can work with that," he hummed, his pace picking up slightly as he felt you start to relax more, your body welcoming his thrusts. "Just focus on how good it feels, baby. Let me take care of you."

He leaned down, pressing his lips to yours and kissing you deeply as he continued to fuck you with a pace that demonstrated his love and devotion to you. He never thought he would be one for slow, romantic sex, but he didn't think he was into a lot of things before he met you. You had a way of making him discover things about himself he was completely clueless to.

As he kissed you, he slowly shifted his hips, changing the angle of his thrusts to hit that particularly sensitive spot inside you. He felt you tense up, a sharp gasp escaping your lips into the kiss, and he smiled against your mouth. "You like that, huh?"

"You're such an ass," you grinned, your fingers curling into his hair, back arching into him as his tip continued to hit that spongy spot inside you, the pressure low in your abdomen building.

"Maybe so, but you love it," he smirked against your mouth, his hands gripping your hips as he increased his pace, his hips snapping forward in a steady rhythm. "And you're gonna come for me again, baby. Aren't you?"

Your mouth fell open in pleasure, your breath hot against his lips. "uh huh," you nodded, your eyes fluttering shut. He was a cocky motherfucker, but he was hot and he put up with your shit, so it was only fair you put up with his in return.

"That's my girl," he purred, one hand sliding down to rub tight circles on your clit as he continued his relentless pace. "Come on, baby. Let me feel you. I want to watch you fall apart for me."

You gasped sharply at the added stimulation, his name leaving your lips in a whine as you tensed around him, sent over the edge for the second time.

He groaned as he felt your walls clench around him, the sensation of you practically choking his dick sending him into his own release. "Fuck, you feel so good," he panted, his hips stuttering as he spilled himself into the condom with a low moan of your name.

Your walls pulsed around him as you slowly came down from your high, relaxing into the mattress. Your chest heaved as you caught your breath, your whole body on fire and coated in a thin sheen of sweat.

He collapsed on top of you with a satisfied hum, peppering gentle kisses along your neck and collarbone as he softened inside you. "I love you, you know that?"

"Good 'cause otherwise this would be pretty awkward," you laughed breathlessly, gently raking your nails over his scalp soothingly. "But, seriously, I love you too," you added quietly after a beat of silence.

tags .ᐟ   @starkeysprincess / @cometmultiverse / @iheartjjmaybnk / @all4l0vee / @kissesfrmriri / @xoxohoneymoongirl / @bradshawed /

[fear-is-truth]

ft. in-ho (001) ‧ hyun-ju (120) ‧ nam-gyu (124) ‧ su-bong (230) ‧ se-mi (380) ‧ dae-ho (388) ‧ jun-ho

a/n — did these bc i was bored… english is not my first language, sorry if there’s any mistakes !

HWANG IN-HO (황인호) / PLAYER 001

in-ho doesn’t let his jealousy show. not even a twitch of the eye. when he sees someone flirting with you, his expression remains calm—maybe even a little amused. the mask never slips, but there’s something cold and calculating beneath it, like a viper watching from the grass.

he has a habit of always “coincidentally” being nearby. yeah.

in-ho knows exactly how to manipulate without being overt. he never accuses, never demands. instead, he asks harmless little questions like, “you two seem to be getting along well.”

and then, after a small pause—he adds, “be careful who you trust. some people don’t have your best interests at heart.” his tone is casual, but he’s planting seeds of doubt, nudging the situation just enough to make you second-guess. his gaze flickers briefly to gi-hun, like he’s searching his face for confirmation. am i right?

then, as if to break the awkward tension, in-ho lets out a light laugh. “i suppose you can’t completely trust us, either.”

tl;dr — man doesn’t always slip up, but when he does, he backtracks FAST

CHO HYUN-JU (조현주 ) / PLAYER 120

she’s a pretty straightforward and genuine, so her jealousy would come across in a very honest, but an insecure way. when she notices someone flirting with you, she won’t try to hide how she feels, though she also won’t cause a scene in front of them.

instead, she’ll try to naturally slide into the conversation, maybe offering a friendly smile or a casual comment just to insert herself without being too obvious.

afterward, when it’s just the two of you, she’ll admit that she didn’t like how things went. she’d be direct but still unsure, maybe looking away or fiddling with her hair as she confesses, “i don’t know… i didn’t like how they were talking to you. it made me feel… weird. i know it’s silly, but…” even though she’s admitting her feelings, she’ll follow it up with a self-conscious laugh, brushing it off in a way that makes it clear she doesn’t want to burden you, even if she just needed to say it.

NAM-GYU (남규) / PLAYER 124

nam-gyu’s jealousy is ugly. unlike thanos, who masks his irritation with forced camaraderie, nam-gyu doesn’t even try to hide it. the second he catches you talking—laughing—with someone else, his expression sours.

his eyes flick away like he can’t be bothered, but his irritation lingers in the small, compulsive gestures that follow. fingers twitch toward his face, rubbing his temple and dragging down his cheek in a slow, irritated motion as if he’s physically restraining himself from saying nasty. then, he tucks his hair behind his ear, fingers lingering at the ends before dropping back to his side.

tl;dr — just am interesting quirk i noticed lol

but later? when it’s just the two of you? suddenly, he’s different. as if the bitterness never existed in the first place. his hands disappear into the sleeves of his jacket, the fabric bunching at his wrists as he curls his fingers inside like paws. he tilts his head slightly as he leans closer, “y/n~” he drawls, dragging out your name. “why were you talking to them for so long? you’re not getting bored of me, are you?”

and the person who got a little too comfortable in your presence? yeah, they’re screwed.

nam-gyu doesn’t just make their life difficult—he makes it fucking dangerous. during games, he’s reckless with them. a sudden, well-timed shove at the worst possible moment. a convenient distraction that nearly gets them eliminated. nothing that can be traced back to him, of course.

when he passes their bunk, he gives a small shove to the back of their head as he walks by, the kind that makes it look like an accident, but it’s far from it.

CHOI SU-BONG (최수봉) / PLAYER 230

thanos wouldn’t be subtle about his jealousy—he’d be super obnoxious about it.

the moment he catches someone flirting with you, he’s all over them, acting like they’re best friends. throws an arm around their shoulder chummily, “my boy!” he grins, smacking them on the back so hard it nearly knocks the air out of them. his overall demeanour is playful, but there’s something off about it. like he’s sizing them up. like he’s deciding how much of a problem they’re about to become.

later, he and nam-gyu make it their personal mission to make their life even more miserable than it already is.

during mealtime, the person just so happens to trip right in front of everyone. maybe it’s thanos’ foot, maybe it’s nam-gyu’s—either way, they did a face-plant. thanos crouches beside them, fake sympathy dripping from his voice. “damn, that must hurt,” he says, shaking his head. “maybe you should be more careful, yeah? how else are you gonna survive the next game?”

it doesn’t stop there. at the bunks, he and nam-gyu make a point of cornering them, bodies blocking any easy escape. thanos grins, “so, you’re real friendly with y/n, huh?” with nam-gyu smiling cutely menacingly in the background. if they try to shrug it off, he just laughs. “aw, don’t be shy! we love meeting new friends.”

if the poor bloke ends up alone in the men’s bathroom? bad luck. thanos is suddenly right there, leaning against the urinal stall, inspecting his colourful nails. “hey, man. funny thing…” his voice drops, and the humour is gone. “you don’t wanna make yourself a problem, yeah?” he doesn’t have to say it outright. the message is clear.

SE-MI (세미) / PLAYER 380

se-mi’s reaction is barely noticeable. when she sees someone flirting with you, her expression doesn’t change, but her eyes get a little colder, and she might look away, focusing on something else.

she might look at you for just a second too long, as if waiting for you to catch her gaze and understand without saying anything.

she doesn’t hold a grudge, but she definitely keeps her distance until she feels like you’ve figured it out on your own.

KANG DAE-HO (강대호) / PLAYER 388

when he sees someone flirting with you, dae-ho doesn’t get angry—he just feels a creeping sense of inadequacy settle in his chest.

if you try to talk to her after, her responses are polite, but there’s a certain sharpness to them—like she’s not fully engaged. every now and then, she’ll throw in a comment, maybe something about not trusting people easily or how “everyone has their own agenda,” but it’s all under the radar.

being the good-natured person that he is, dae-ho doesn’t interrupt, doesn’t push himself into the conversation. but if there’s a chance to naturally one-up them, he’ll take it. dae-ho’s jealousy is a bit more showy, but not in a malicious way. he straightens his posture a little more. rolls up his sleeve to expose the marine tattoo on his arm.

dae-ho isn’t one to sulk, but he goes quiet. fidgets more, rubbing the back of his neck, cracking his knuckles, anything to keep his hands busy. when he looks at your direction, it’s fleeting—like he’s afraid of seeing something he doesn’t want to.

he never lets it turn into resentment. dae-ho doesn’t want to be that guy, doesn’t want to make it your problem. but later, when it’s just the two of you, he gets a bit clingy.

HWANG JUN-HO (황준호)

a gentleman to his core, jun-ho’s jealousy doesn’t come with flare or outward signs. when he sees someone flirting with you, his smile remains polite, almost cordial. posture stays poised, tone respectful—nothing gives away the annoyance bubbling inside.

if the other person crosses a line—that’s when the temperature drops. a slow blink. a slight tilt of his head. a stare just sharp enough to unsettle. jun-ho doesn’t need words to make his presence known.

──⟢  fear-is-truth — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[valsverse]

thinking about the small ways the pjo boys instinctively show their love for you..

the way percy jackson's sword fighting naturally slows to a hesitant crawl whenever he's sparring with you. his once swift and fluid motions seem to falter, as if he's unsure of how much force to use. his sword moves in hesitant, awkward jabs, accompanied by a small, sheepish smile that seems to say, "i don't want to hurt you, but i also don't want to lose."

the way jason grace covers the sharp corner of the table when you reach under to get something, ensuring that your head wouldn't accidentally collide with the unforgiving edge. you feel the warmth of his hand hovering just inches above your head, and the faint smile on his lips reveals his satisfaction in keeping you safe. he's a protector, that one.

the way leo valdez taps three times on the dinner table whenever he wants to catch your attention. perhaps it's his way of saying, 'i'm thinking of you.' or, i can't wait to see you after this.' you're never quite certain of the exact meaning, but regardless, you often find yourself twirling your daggers three times before going into battle, a sweet tribute to leo.

the way luke castellan's lip twitches ever so slightly every time you enter into the room. it's a subtle movement, almost imperceptible, but you're certain it's there by the way he catches your eye, and tilts his head to the door, a silent invitation for you to join him.

[oldmannapping]

HC:

Reporter: What do you have to say to criticism that for years, the Robin role was filled solely by straight, cis white males?

Nightwing: I’m not white.

Red Hood: I’m not white.

Red Robin: I’m not… Well I’m white...

The camera lingers for an awkward moment before an offended Spoiler jumps into frame and protests girl-Robin erasure.

Later, someone puts the short close up of Red Robin’s response in slow motion with rainbow filters and dance music, and it‘s a viral joke in Gotham for two weeks.

It’s mostly forgotten for years until Red Robin goes to Pride and casually mentions that he’s already come out years ago. The clip resurfaces and people are like, “Wait, that was it??? That was real???”

Because Tim Drake has extensive media training but Red Robin is a chaotic bisexual disaster with no filter.

And that’s my headcannon of how Red Robin comes out in a way that’s so dumb, most people don’t even realise he’s done it.

(Bonus headcanon: Bernard was the creator of the original viral clip and was infuriated at the time because people thought it was a joke but it was SO OBVIOUS that Red Robin was coming out. Why couldn’t everyone see it?)

(EDIT: This recipe can also be used for gay, trans, or ace Tim - just adjust the ingredients to your personal preference.)

[alatusprinz]

when you call him good boy .

characters: wanderer/scaramouche, kaedehara kazuha, albedo, xiao

genre: smut, (warning of explicit words choice)

-

Scaramouche/Wanderer sneers at you mockingly when the words fall from your mouth. His grip on your hips tightened as he snapped his hips into your behind roughly, deliberately thrusting in so deep so your back arches with your face buried into the pillow. He hated when your needy moans were silenced when it wasn’t on his accord, making him reach out to grip onto your hair roughly to pull your body up while holding onto your neck with his other hand, forcing you to find balance in an awkward position with your knees on the mattress and back against his chest. His hips never halted one bit, still thrusting in relentlessly into your drenched walls as your mind blanked out from the dizzying stimulation. Tightening his grip on your neck, he leans into your ear, almost purring in a sickeningly sweet voice. 

"Fuck, you like that don't you? Like being used like a little dolly for me?" You whimpered weakly as your scalp slightly burned from his tight grip, your body moving to meet his slams involuntarily from the force of his each thrust. It always felt like this, almost too good, too overwhelming from the borderline ruthless way he fucked you. As your broken moans persisted and he wanted to see you break down more, let go of your hair with a satisfied smirk and instead held onto both your wrists to pull your body back to meet his hips, manhandling you and taking you as he pleased.

His grip on your wrists tightened as pulled them back to slam your ass to his hips over and over, your cunt almost sore and aching from how he used you like a toy for his pleasure.

“Yeah? Fuck, call me that again, let me know how much of a good boy I am being.” 

-

Kazuha’s gaze was always starstruck and almost drunk in love when he was staring at you as he slipped into your snug walls over and over. He was so hypnotized by you, completely allured more every second you two spent together. And he never knew he could fall even deeper until you looked at him with that sultry gaze, mouth open and making the prettiest sounds for him, and called him your good boy. Your good boy. An infatuated smile blossoming on his face, his cock pressed in deep, then he moved in a grinding motion slightly as you squirmed and mewled in pleasure. He was looking at you with heart in his eyes, completely enchanted and greedy to see more of your beauty. Nobody could ever compare or hold a candle to how beautiful you looked under him when he made love to you.

That’s right- he almost whimpers at your word as his hold on your waist tightened, immediately pressing his lips onto yours. His kiss was needy, desperate to feel you in his arms, if there was anything in this world that he couldn’t lose ever, it would undoubtedly be you. Kazuha’s heart feels like it would leap out any moment now as he rolls his hips into yours, trying his best to go sensual and slow although his patience was running thin every time your breathy moans graced his ears. His lips lowered to your neck, warm breath tickling your skin, and he whispered. 

“All yours my love, all yours… Your good boy, yours…” 

-

A soft moan leaves Albedo’s mouth in pleasant surprise at the praise he hears from you. His inquisitive gaze never leaves your face, in fact his sight never seemed to focus on anything else other than your pretty expressions when he made love to you. The way your eyes fluttered shut when his tip brushes over your sensitive spot (one he knows all too well by now), the differences in your moans when he grinds into you, slowly pushes as deep as he can to drag upon your tender spot, or when he sometimes indulge his greed and slams into you harder and faster as your nails scratched into his back- all of your precious reactions are recorded in his mind like a rewound tape. 

You called him good boy- his pupils dilated visibly if you had half the mind to notice, and suddenly he was all the more determined to please you more. His mouth latched onto your nipple, one hand gripping onto your waist as he rutted inside your warm walls, pleasured groans leaving his lips while he sucked on harder. You swore sight blurred as his other hand was suddenly rubbing over your clit, circling and flicking the way he knew you moaned the prettiest for him. He knew your body better than you did by now, Albedo took silent pride in that fact. And he intended on being a good boy for you every day and night, whenever you desire him.  

- Xiao almost gets too pleasure-driven from the moment your lips are on his more sensually, from the second your touches turn suggestive. His eyes are always clouded over with lust, desire and admiration towards you, he is hardly even lucid when he finally pushes into your eager walls, he can never control himself fully once he had a taste of you- all that mattered to him was you, your moans, and your face twisting in pleasure. That’s why when you first called him your good boy, he didn’t even hear it. His one hand was pressing yours to the mattress, fingers entwined as he rammed inside needily, it felt so good, he wanted to be buried inside your snug walls forever- this insatiable lust transfers over to his actions because as much as he tries, he can’t seem to be too gentle and from the way you moan sharply each time he slams in and his cock rubs against your insides just right, Xiao couldn’t find it in him to slow down anyways.

His fingers laced with yours on one hand, indirectly holding you down in place with how with each thrust made your linked hands sink down onto the sheets, and his other holding onto your hip so tight it felt like it would bruise,. You muttered out a weak “good boy” once more- this time he heard it all too well. He groaned in pleasure at your words, at your beauty or your tight cunt he couldn’t tell, all he knew was he had to give you more, make you take more of him. His lips are on your neck and his sharp teeth sank down on the side, his lustful panting and deep moans ringing in your ear. Your wince of pain was drowned out in the high-pitched whiny moan when his claws unintentionally dug onto your hips as he forced your walls to take all of him, slamming his hips to yours desperately like he would die if he didn’t engrave the feeling of your warmth around him inside his mind. Your sweet moans always made his heart flutter, his eyes rolled to the back of his head as he bit down harder on your neck, rutting into you as though to remind you that you’re all his, and he’d be your ‘good boy’ always and forever.