#but idk…. just not been feeling it lately

[annabelle--cane]

i wasn’t here when tma reached the height of its popularity (i only joined last year) so could you describe the Vibes (how bad the drama was, did it feel like there were too many people, etc.)

only if you want to :]

I've said this before, so this may be a familiar spiel to longer term followers, but 2020 tma fandom was honestly not the worst fandom I've ever been in, it was just by far the biggest thing I have ever been actively into at peak popularity and so the 1% of insane people that are found in every fan space were 1% of a much bigger total population. most people were fine and chill, but there were a vocal minority who Weren't.

major ingredients in the discourse pot:

from my observations, tma had a small but devoted listener base for its first few years, then it got a little bump in mid 2018, then a considerable bump in late 2019, then hit proper virality in early 2020, so there were a lot of people with hipster complexes about being Real Fans who were there first and weren't just part of the masses.

at this point I'm not even sure if this part was true, but the above was compounded by the perception that the earlier og listener base were mostly adults and the new wave of fans were mostly tweens and teens. whether the different waves actually fell along those age lines or not, a lot of people felt like the fandom was split into 80% Cringe Zoomers Who Are Here For Ships And Memes and 20% Millennials and Gen X'ers With Media Literacy Who Are Here For Horror. nice dichotomy, idiot, now what lies outside it, etc and such and such. our blessed fandom etiquette vs their barbarous dni lists.

which isn't to say that suddenly having a huge number of people, including young people, become interested in a single piece of media at a time of global stress where everyone had to be much more online and the content of the media itself was at its darkest and most socially relevant had no downsides. oh no. Oh No.

"my headcanon is not only objectively the best headcanon but it actually invalidates all of yours and if you hc something different then it's an act of bigotry against my Correct Headcanon." / "I have drawn up a list of Good Characters you have to like and aren't allowed to criticize and a list of Bad Characters you have to hate and can't acknowledge exist unless it's to make fun of and completely condemn them." / "I saw her username in the kudos of a jonelias fic" "girl what were YOU doing in the kudos of a jonelias fic" / "this latest episode handled a social issue unforgivably badly, I haven't experienced it myself but the vibes were off, everyone demand accountability and boycott the rest of the show" "hey that one was actually based on jonny's personal experiences" "ah fuck not again. well boys let's remember this for next time. this latest epis--"

honestly most of the discourse was down to like two or three friend groups. there was one group of people who you will probably remember if you were there at the time whom I have sometimes seen referred to as the Clown Gang. Clown Gang were ground zero for a good 90% of fan discourse ("hcing melanie as ace is ableist and lesbophobic" "fan content that focuses on jon's asexuality is biphobic. what's pansexuality I've never heard of it." "desolation tim aus are inherently ableist and racist"), but eventually they had a big falling out with Clown Prime and things calmed down. to be very clear I hold no ill will towards any of these people for four year old bad takes, hence why I'm not using any names, but god was it a time.

and this is only about the tumblr side of things. I was barely active of twitter so idk what it was like there but I was on tiktok for about a year during that time and the vibes were wildly different. iirc people there were less confrontational and there wasn't really a callout culture like on tumblr, but the extremes of the takes were FAR worse.

[mysunshinetemptress]

Insight 4

Smarter universe

A/n: I feel like this one I might edit a bit more so a rerelease might cone idk I don’t really like my writing in this. it’s 1am and I wanted to give you guys another insight as promised. Also thank you to @womenwoso for helping with the logistics of this insight.

Leah hasn’t known what it’s like to not wake up and feel nauseous for the past few days, not since you left, but today it’s worse, today she goes to training and although she hopes you’ll be there in the back of her mind she knows you won’t.

Leah’s slow to get ready, slow to leave and slow to arrive to Sobha Reality training ground, she’s late and her teammates don’t understand why. Leah’s never late, you’re never late.

Leah checks in and trudges her way to the changing room where the rest of the arsenal girls are, slowly Leah pushes the door and walks making a b line for her locker before throwing her bag down and quietly getting ready.

Leah doesn’t miss the way the girls look for you coming in behind her like you usually do, and she definitely doesn’t miss the questioning glances between Steph and Alessia.

“Le where’s Y/n.” Leah shrugs continuing to get ready, her eyes glued to the floor. Steph steps forward “hey mate, where’s Y/n? She didn’t answer the phone to Less or I this morning.” Leah mumbles into her chest “I don’t know.” This only causes more confusion between the pair as Leah continues to put on her training gear.

“What do you mean you don’t know Leah you live together, you’re married to her for godsake” Leah feels her stomach flip “she’s gone-she left.” Alessia steps forward her own stomach dropping, gone, left. Where, why and why didn’t you text them or call it doesn’t make sense. “ She would have said something, why did she leave arsenal.” Leah shakes her head as she feels her emotions start to rise again “not Arsenal, not yet anyway.” Leah pauses tying her shoe “she left me.”

Leah hates that for a slight moment you’re the bad guy and that her friends support her, but it’s all a lie. Steph puts her hand on Leah’s shoulder comforting her “what happened.” Leah shakes her head the tears forming in her eyes as the feeling of getting sick intensifies “I cheated.” She lets out quietly so quietly that Steph is the only one to hear.

Alessia looks confused “what.” As Steph recoils her hand as though she’s just been burned “you did what.” Leah shakes her head “please Steph.” Steph doesn’t take pity on her instead she shouts “you cheated on your wife, on Y/n.”

The rest of the girls all seem to freeze as they turn to look at their Vice captain “you better be taken the piss.” Katie shouts from across the room.” But Leah’s silence is deafening “Leah.” Kim tries but the defender stays silent.

“She won’t answer our texts, our calls, how-is she safe.” Leah doesn’t answer she can’t answer she doesn’t know where you are, she doesn’t know you’re wrapped up in her bed in her childhood home holding on to her jumper as you sob.

“I don’t know….we…she talked and then she left.” Leah lets out, “who was it Leah.” Leah’s head turns to Lia and the knot in her stomach tightens “I-Lia.” Lia already knows, she wish she didn’t but she does “Leah.” Leah shakes her head “I didn’t-please- it-I don’t know it just-we just…please.” Lia feels sick and the room spins slightly at the thought that she had been introduced to HER months ago when Leah and her met up for coffee and SHE came bouncing over.

Steph has her phone out as she tries you again and again Alessia’s frozen “but what about everything-you guys were supposed to be having a family.” They don’t know Leah thinks of course they don’t know she didn’t know “we are.” The room seems to drop like a led balloon.

Leah’s up against a wall next Katie holding her shirt in her fists “please tell me your wife…who wants nothing more than a family with you…who we have all seen cry day in and day out over not being able to have a baby with you isn’t pregnant because if she is so help me god Leah.”

Again Leah’s silence is all it takes to confirm the team’s worst fears. “I don’t know who else to call.” Steph lets out painfully “everyone else is in this room” Leah gulps, your gone, you’re not answering your phone and Steph right everyone you love…you think of as your friends, family are in this room and once again the knot gets bigger.

Katie drops Leah back to her feet “Kim.” Kim looks at the Irish girl “you’re suspended”. Kim turns to Leah as the vice captain tries to protest “I don’t want to see you near this place until I say otherwise.” Leah nods packing up and heading out the door.

“Leah.”

Lia chases after her stopping just at the car park “please tell me that it’s not HER.” Leah shakes her head “I…” Leah’s interrupted by a car honking HER car as SHE pulls up beside the duo “Hey baby ready.” Leah turns and looks to Lia “I-i can explain.” Lia shakes her head “don’t bother, you’ve made your bed and clearly you still enjoy sleeping in it.”

[4chensungs]

don’t kiss and tell

brothers best friend!jisung x fem. reader

after the incident of your brother finding out you hooked up with one of his friends, you promised to yourself to never look out for him anymore. but who says he’ll give up on you that easily?

wc. 2.8k

warnings. smut (mdni), jisung is down bad, body worship like crazy in here, tit sucking, fingering, ass slapping, unprotected sex

part 1 for context here <3

IT HAS BEEN one whole month since you last talked to jisung. one month since you saw him probably for the last time in a hot minute.

the last few weeks have been extremely unusual; you keep questioning yourself how was he doing, if he's even ever going to appear at your house again to hang out with you brother, like he always did. he's probably not.

and fuck jaemin, fuck him for screwing your bond with him. it's useless, pure jealousy and he's so stupid!, stupid for being this mad with one if his best friends of years, simply because he thinks you're still a child.

on the other hand, jisung is being not so subtle in the way he still wants you. he keeps liking the pics you post on your instagram stories, sometimes even replying to them. and it's the sad fact you're not giving him a single reply.

his mind wanders to the thought of you being already completely over him, wanting to distance yourself fully right now, thanks to your brother.

but your heart knows that's not what you want, and it keeps giving you a warning that the next time that you see him, these feelings will come back stronger than ever.

you miss him. so bad, thinking about him makes you sick.

you're laying in bed, scrolling quietly through your phone when the damn notification appears. why does he keep trying? you sigh out loud.

the__and.y liked your stories.

you ran your hands through your hair, turning off your phone to stare at the ceiling to collect your breath. you can't, your brother is still furious with both of you.

jisung ♡: why do u keep ignoring me in every existing social media

is he really going to do this? at this late at night?

jisung ♡: i miss you

you kept reading his messages and not replying. you didn't contact him for a month.

maybe, just maybe, things may have gotten lighter with jaemin. perhaps he's not really remembering this whole thing, yeah?

you: i'm sorry jisung

you: idk if this is right i really don't know

you: im confused

you turn off your phone again while waiting for his reply. let's give it a try.

jisung ♡: why wouldn't it be right

jisung ♡: jaemin can't control your life, you can do whatever you want

hm.

you: i felt bad that day and he's still so mad with you

you: idc if he's mad with me, he's my brother at the end of the day

you: i worry about you and how hes fucked up your friendship

jisung ♡: baby you know what's fucked up

jisung ♡: you trying to convince yourself that you don't want this because of him

jisung ♡: say to my face that you don't want it

you want this so fucking bad. to be in his arms again, and the thrill of being with him behind closed doors. god, that's all you want in every way.

you: ji

you: i want to see you

jisung ♡: that's right

jisung ♡: i've waited for this princess

jisung ♡: waited so long

you: i need you

you: i don't care anymore

you really don't give a fuck - your brother can hold his protectiveness instinct for himself, he actually can. you can't control what your heart aims for.

and it screams for park jisung.

"you can't ignore him forever, you know that?"

"who says I'm ignoring him? I texted him yesterday saying he should come this weekend." jaemin huffed, acting oblivious to the fact that the only reason why he invited jisung over was because of the boys' annual end of year party.

chenle deadpans at him with his stare, letting out a chuckle, "if you didn't invite him I would've done it myself." he paused, turning his head to look at the man, "that would be bullshit."

bullshit. jaemin swore he almost threw chenle out of the car in the harshest way possible - clicking his tongue in pure annoyance, "yeah, it was just fine when he fucked my sister behind my back."

"i'm pretty sure they did not fuck."

if you didn't then why were you both half naked. in his car. at your backyard?

"i'm telling you, I saw it. she was literally on top of him and she was fucking moaning his name, chenle. that's fucking wrong." your brother spat while still not looking at his friend - eyes focused on the road.

chenle keeps going, "cut this off, jaem. you can't see her as a baby anymore. let her live."

jisung is indeed coming to your house again - sooner than you thought. but it did take some days for you to find out, tho. you brother wasn't the one who told you.

in the same day, the last messages jisung sent you before you went to sleep.

jisung ♡: dress up prettily for me tomorrow

jisung ♡: will you?

you: what??

you: you're coming???

jisung ♡: jaemin told me to go and yeah i didn't expect it as well

jisung ♡: dreaming of you again

jisung ♡: kissing your sweet lips holding you so close to me

jisung ♡: it'll be all mine princess

you: go to sleep ji

you: silly

jisung ♡: i'll show you what's silly tomorrow

—

the sound of the boys laughing and loud pitching talking in the living room did quite mess with your head, anticipating the moment when he comes. it's crazy how you got so dolled up for him only, he's the reason why you're even going out of your room this night.

if it wasn't for jisung, you'd probably just greet the guys and come back to your own quiet place, drowning in your thoughts, alone. just like you always used to do before he appeared in your life.

a knock was heard on your door just right after you finished your makeup. unexpectedly, you meet a very tipsy jaemin.

"what the fuck is this outfit?" he spats, crossing his arms in front of his chest - his body unbalanced. for a split second, you closed your eyes and thanked all the existing Gods under your breath. he's drunk.

you smiled, "felt pretty today. you smell like beer, don't talk to me."

"hey, hey, hey." he grabbed your arm before you could close the door and kick him out, "come say hello to my friends. don't be rude."

you fixed your hair and outfit and went to the living room, being find with chenle, jeno and donghyuck's figures sat around the big table, nestled with all the different kinds of drinks and alcohol.

your breath hitched when jisung was nowhere to be found.

after greeting the guys, you decided to wait in your room - not sure on how, or when will jisung get there and you'll finally get to release all of your wants. show him how much you miss him and vice versa.

not much time had passed before another knock was heard on your door. you were sprawled on bed, dim lighting decorating the ambient.

"come in."

you said that because you thought it was your brother. jisung carefully opened the door, eyes peeking first to check on you.

that scene truly felt like a movie. you slowly got up, a smile starting to pop up in your lips as you walked to him.

your voice trembling, "hi, ji."

you opened the door fully for him to enter your space, he wasted no time to step in and pull you into a hug.

a mess was happening in your head, so ridiculously dizzy from him - the masculine smell of his cologne filling your nostrils, his hands holding your body flush to him while yours gripped his black t shirt, so simple and casual but yet made him look so attractive.

or maybe that’s just because you miss him a lot.

jisung leaned away from your embrace, gently taking your hair out of your face while holding eye contact - hands flew to your hips.

"you look gorgeous. more than ever."

your arms secured their hold around his neck, feeling your cheeks burning red from his words, "just for you." you announced.

he nodded, "all for me."

you both smiled like two idiots in love as he leaned down to kiss you, mouths melting so sweet at first - tongues brushing here and there, hums being heard throughout the kiss, "so pretty in this dress." he mumbles in between.

his back hits the door as he closes it, left hand leaving your hips for a mere second just to lock it.  making absolute sure that no one will be able to interrupt.

jisung grabs a hold of your thighs to help you walk further into your room, so familiar to him.

all the times you've sneaked out, when jisung slept by and left jaemin's room in the middle of the night when he was in a deep sleep. all behind his back with so much carefulness.

when he lays you down he's quick to trail his wet kisses down to your neck, firm hands caressing your whole body, going up and down in motions.

you arch into him, playing with his black hair strands as his face rests on your chest, meanwhile his lips keeps smooching your hot skin.

you sigh in contentment, knees pressing together - trying to give him a sign that you're needy, so painfully needy for him.

"jisung i want- mhhm" your words get cut off by your own whine when his hand grabs the top of your dress to pull it down, hanging it just below your bra.

"don't want to take your dress off.. youre looking too beautiful like this." his deep voice quietly said.

you smile at his sweet comment, holding back all your whines combined with the feeling of his fingers messing with the lace of your white bra, throwing your head back with no shame when he pulls the fabric down to expose your breasts, still not taking it off your body.

"so pretty, princess. i could admire you all day."

cool air is fast to hit but it's soon replaced by jisung's hot mouth, circling your breast with his tongue, hand massaging the other while his mouth does wonders on your soft flesh.

when he reaches for your nipple you whine even louder, his saliva pooling and soaking your whole breast when he sucks it into his warm hot mouth, humming nonstop.

"you're crazy ji-jisung."

"should i stop?" he teases, leaning his mouth away from your nipple and replacing it with his finger, rubbing it.

"no for fucks sake.. but I'm trying so hard to keep quiet." your voice trembled slightly.

jisung looks at you then laughs, “they’re so wasted right now, no one’s conscious in that room, love.”

you pout at him, he softly traces your bottom lip with his thumb before kissing you again, “I promise you, it’s okay. but I need you to tell me it’s okay with you.”

his soft and caring voice did turn you on even more, it shouldn’t, but it made you wetter. eyes holding so much love and appreciation looking at yours - “I want this. I want you, ji.”

jisung smiles one more time, giving you a nod and resumed his work, mumbling a deep “fuck” under his breath when he tested the waters, hand went under your dress to feel your core.

he pulled the ends of your dress up to your stomach, your thighs ridiculously pressed together. you should be ashamed of how wet you were, but you’re not, not even a single bit.

he gives your thighs a caress, “let me spread them, hm?”

your breath hitches when he brings your knees to your chest, spreading you all open and full for him. jisung mentally coos at the scene in front of him.

just like your bra, white lace panties with a wet dark patch decorated in the middle, like a gift for him. it drove him crazy.

“did you miss me that much, princess?” you can only moan as response when he touches the wet patch with his finger before pulling the lace to the side, holding it in place with one finger, while his middle finger travels up and down your cunt.

wet, so fucking wet, “fuck. love, i might cum just by looking at this.” he cursed and cursed again, eyes wide open and looking straight at your puffy displayed cunt, so wet just for him. he knew that and so did you.

“oh fuck baby i can’t-“ jisung’s fingers spread you open to admire you better - in love, genuinely in love with how your pretty pussy shines for him, glistening and begging to suck him in.

he leans down fast enough to give your clit a quick kiss, “can’t stop thinking about how beautiful she is.” still caressing your core.

you moan his name desperately at his nasty but sweet comment, tons of whines and “jisung” ‘s leaving your mouth.

“ji please. want your fingers.” you manage to say.

“of course, gotta prep my beautiful girl.” he smiles, an expert finger circling your clit before diving down into your entrance. covered with slick, your cunt invites him just as soon.

experienced fingers pumping in and out continuously, you whine with your eyes closed at the sound of wetness.

jisung’s in complete awe, stoping his staring at your hole to kiss your face, first at the corner of your mouth, then at your lips, shutting your whines off.

“you’re perfect.” he leans away to say.

nothing’s more perfect in this world than the sensation of his long and thick fingers inside you, scissoring you and reaching the deepest and most sensitive spots ever. you’ll say that to him later.

you try to smile but you soon harshly bite your lip when he curled his two fingers inside, you yelped, “jisung! oh my god-“

he kisses you again, and again, until he’s satisfied and thinks you’re ready to take him. jisung’s fingers leave you empty, and you let out a cry - his eyes make their way to between your legs to see how you’re pulsating.

“never seen my princess this wet..” deep cocky voice says.

you reach out to take off your dress, “i’ve missed you.”

when your dress was discarded to the floor, he was quick to unbutton his jeans as they went to the same destination of your clothes.

you could see his erection through his boxers, and as much as you want to such him off right now, you’re needing him inside. now.

your panties were about to be discarded before jisung grabbed your hand and shook his head, “want them on, baby. s’ pretty. keep the bra too.”

knowing how he likes it with you, you turned around and pinned your front to the bed, arching your back and your ass in the air.

“fuck, just like that.” he pumps his cock at first, cooing you while you wait for him.

jisung’s hands flew to your back to arch it even more, then to hold your hips. he rubs the head of his dick on your entrance, how your pussy almost sucks him in just from the rubbing.

when he enters you, you let out a little too loud moan. hands clutching the sheets and tears filling your eyes.

he’s completely focused on how you keep clenching around him - the amusing view of your cunt sucking him all the way in, then out again.

your hips were pressed to his shaft, feeling him so fucking deep into your womb.

jisung coos again, “you don’t know how I’ve been dying for this.” he slaps your ass.

“jisung! jisung fuck, jisung.” you whine like a baby, lost in the pleasure. ass stinging from his big hand slap and cunt begging to be filled until you get sore.

“my love.” another slap, “fucking made just for me.”

his cock is so big and it leaves you like a babbling mess, so big that it almost hurts from how good it is, hits you in all places.

you both were getting closer, his thrusts started to get sloppier and messier, slower as he pulled away to release at your back.

your own release dripped down your pussy and thighs, while his hot cum painted your back down to your ass cheeks. what a scene.

“want them all to see this mess.. jaemin needs to see how you’re good to me.“ he admires the sight of your cunt clenching and unclenching around absolutely nothing but the air, “can’t believe you’re mine and no one can ever change that.”

you tiredly laid back on your back again, trying to fix your hair. jisung’s sweaty body joined you after tossing the dirty sheets aside, he breathes heavy, but still with that cute smile on his lips.

“do you think they heard something?.” you look up at him, voice low.

jisung thinks for a second, furrowing his brows, “i honestly don’t think so, baby. but you need to change these sheets..”

“of course i will, ji.” you laughed fondly. there’s still some questions hanging in the air, with what face will he come back to the boys?

“and if they ask you where were you this whole time and what were you doing…?”

“then i’ll just say that i was fucking the prettiest girl in the family and i don’t regret it.”

—

© 4chensungs

[hitomisuzuya]

idk abt you but smth abt whiny needy soft!dom morning wood wanderer makes me giggle (,,>﹏<,,)

wanderer (scaramouche) x fem!reader. smut. blow job. soft!dom wanderer. a little bit of consensual somnophilia.

i have been really in the mood to write oral lately😳

wanderer couldn't help it. whenever he fell asleep, he dreamt about you. this particular time, he dreamt that you were taking his cock perfectly from behind, arching your back, and giving him the perfect view of his cock squelching in and out of your tight cunt. moaning like a bitch in heat, dazed words of worship and how good his cock felt fucking into you.

needless to say, when he woke up, he is incredibly hard.

and it didn't help that you are asleep naked next to him, the curves of your body slightly exposed by the blanket, looking way too tempting for your own good.

noticing that you are conveniently turned over your side away from him, he slid closer to you. you are still asleep, and he didn't want to wake you. so he figured he could pump his cock between your thighs, grinding against your pussy and swallowing his moans while he cums. problem solved, no need to disturb you.

"ah fuck your thighs feel good," he hissed softly, maneuvering himself closer to your back and putting a arm around you to anchor himself better. his cock throbbed as it pumped between your thighs, your juices soaking his cock as the tip grazed your clit.

a quiet whine sounded from him as you shifted in your sleep, the tightening of your thigh muscles adding more friction. he increased his pace a little, trying not to lose to control and mindlessly fuck your thighs while your pussy soaked his cock.

he was embarrassed at how consistent his whines were sounding. those are what inevitably woke you up. his arms tightened around you feeling the confusion on your body. "i..i'm sorry," he nuzzled his cheek against your shoulder, "i had this erotic dream about you and i..i..oh fuck," he let out a shaky whine, "i really need this."

you put a hand on wanderer's, your breathing sounding shaky. his leaking cock head rubbing against your clit was making it throb. "it's okay. roll over onto your back," you grinded gently against his cock.

wanderer groans and rolls over, reluctantly taking his aching cock from between your thighs. blushing, he watched you move onto your knees next to him. he didn't think he could get any harder, but watching you angle your ass up as you leaned down made more precum bead onto his cock head.

you took the sheet down off of his cock, your tongue sweeping out to prod into the slit. you snaked your tongue around the tip, delicately kitten licking in a way that made him moan softly.

"that's a good girl," he praised, carding his fingers in your hair as you scoop his cock head into your mouth to suck on, "always so eager to serve me, even in the morning."

wanderer slowly pumped his cock in and out of your mouth. you flatten your tongue, focusing your sucks as a vein buldged to the surface. he let you bob your mouth up and down on his cock at your pace, but the way you ground your warm mouth tightly on his cock while you sucked felt too fucking good.

taking a form hold of your hair, a silent command for you to relax and let him control your head, he thrust his cock deeper into your mouth. you muffled a moan on his cock, drool trickling out the corner of your mouth. you gag as he hit the back of your throat.

"ah fuck, choke on my cock and keep sucking just like that," his husky moan is whimper tinged, increasing his pace once you recovered your breathing. he reached a hand up, groping your ass before parting your now drooling folds. he played with your throbbing clit, enjoying the vibrations of your moans as his cock pulsed on your tongue.

your pussy clenches around nothing, begging to used in the same way he was using your willing mouth to get off. your sucks turn more eager as he held your head in place, his nimble fingers working your clit over as you try and grind down against them.

"swallow it all, understand?" he commanded huskily, pushing his cock into your throat one final time. his hand tightens in your hair, a broken whimper of pleasure sounding from him as salty cum spurts into your mouth. his fingers stroke through your hair as you suck him through his orgasm.

you lick and suck his cock lovingly, submissively letting him control your head until he was satisfied. once he released your hair and took his cock out of your mouth, he put you on your back. spreading your legs, he intends to eat you out until you were whimpering the same way he was.

[g4rvez-r3id]

Naughty Boy

Post Prison! Spencer Reid x Unit Chief! Fem Reader

Synopsis: You and Spencer are trying to have a little fun in secret until Emily walks in… Spencer decides to make it a little more interesting underneath your desk.

Category: Smut

Warnings: established relationship, power dynamics, reader and spencer keep their relationship private so it’s a bit of forbidden love trope, kissing, smut warnings: lowkey sub!spencer, and also lowkey perv!spencer, spencer has a boner, straddling, stroking, cunnilingus, getting caught, exhibitionist kink? fingering, cumming in pants, use of ‘sweet boy’, ‘good boy’ and ‘naughty boy’, spencer lowkey pathetic- idk that should cover it

Author’s Note: hey lovelies! lowkey this one kinda sucked but i wanted to write a smut oneshot 🤭 got this idea watching a sitcom lmao anyways post prison sub spencer supremacy 🛐 debating on writing a part two to this one where reader punishes spencer hehehe let me know! please enjoy this one!! <3

A lot of changes happened since you’d become unit chief of the BAU. It wasn’t your intention of becoming unit chief but Emily Prentiss believed otherwise. She passed down the tassel to you since you’d had so much experience on this team for years. And she also knew Hotch would’ve wanted it, too.

After Barnes tried to take the BAU down, Emily was given back her job and hiring authority. Feeling as if you’d earned the spot, she promoted you. Of course, you were a little anxious taking charge at first but Emily assured she’d stay every step of the way and even offered to take over when you felt the power to be a bit too much.

You and Spencer’s relationship had become more balanced since he got back from prison and you felt the need to keep your relationship under wraps for as long as possible. Nobody knew you two were together, you both were very careful when it came to your relationship. You’d only been dating for a year and a half since he got back from prison where he’d finally confessed his undying love for you and that he’d show you just how much he loved you when he got out.

You’d both been pining after each other for years before the fact. And since then every moment you’d shared together has been wonderful, despite keeping it hidden from your colleagues. It was for the better, especially now that you were a higher power. If it wasn’t strictly forbidden before, it definitely was now that you were unit chief.

You were lucky that you’d chosen someone that was usually good at keeping secrets. You both never arrived to work together, you both left work at separate times and only ever spoke in a professional manner to one another. Of course, nothing too far as to not speaking to each other entirely. You were surprised that no one had suspected a thing for the year and a half you’d been together.

Today, you were in your office, filing everyone’s paperwork and signing off on them one by one. You’d just finished JJ’s when there was a knock on your door. “Come in.” You spoke and behind the door had been your loving and doting boyfriend.

“This a bad time?” Spencer asked as he waited for your okay to come in. “No, no, not at all. Come in.” You smile and turn towards your already closed blinds. If you hadn’t already closed them, it definitely would’ve looked suspicious if you closed them now.

As soon as he shut your door, you stood up from your seat with a sly smirk and walk over to him. “So, what can I do you for?” You ask. “Oh, nothing, I just—” Spencer rests his hands on your hips. “I just missed you.”

You smile as you hold him close. It’d been a minute since you had a moment together. Cases were often disrupting already what little time you two had together.

“I missed you too, my love.” You say, looking into his eyes with a loving smile. “Why don’t we go out for dinner tonight? I’m working on the paperwork now so I won’t have to stay here too late tonight.” You suggest and he smile right back at you. “I’d like that. We could use a date night.”

You pull him closer to kiss you on your lips and as you pull him flush against your body, you feel it. It’s definitely unmistakable that he’s hard in his pants.

“Uh, baby?” You ask, pushing him a bit. “Yeah?” He asks as he leans his head down towards his collarbone. “Are you… hard just from a few kisses?” This wasn’t the first time he’d gotten an erection just from a few simple kisses from you. He pretty much gets turned on by anything you do. And you secretly love it.

“I can’t help it, Spencer admits into your neck. “You’re gorgeous.”

You blush at his words and smile, “Aw, thank you, my love.” His mouth stays on your neck, sucking on your pulse point. You pull him towards your chair and push him into it, getting on top of him and straddling him with a smirk etched on your face as you lean down and kiss him on his lips.

He tries to speak into the kiss, pushing you away for a brief moment. “Wait, wait, wait.” He says and you look down at him, your index finger tapping on his plump pink lips, staring down at them. You had a bit of an oral fixation when it came to Spencer Reid. Whether it was for yourself or for him.

“What’s wrong?” You ask. “I just don’t want us to get caught, that’s all.” Spencer stated and you smile, “I know, sweet boy. But you let me worry about that, okay? Right now, I just want to take care of my boy.”

You run your hand towards the front of his slacks and palm his hard cock through his pants. He moans a little too loud and you are quick to clasp your free hand over his mouth. “If we want to this to work, you’re gonna need to be a good boy and be quiet, okay?” He nods vehemently into your palm.

You stroke him a few more times through his pants and you check and see that your sweet boy’s eyes are rolling to the back of his head. You wonder how long you can keep him on the edge, how long you can make this until he’s shouting that he can’t take it anymore, how much he’ll—

Knock. Knock. Knock.

You and Spencer look at each other in horror before you quickly usher him underneath your desk and fix yourself up to the best of your ability, sitting in your seat. Surely, you could’ve explained that Spencer was just in here for a moment but you acted quickly and couldn’t risk whoever was coming in to talk to you to see what you two were doing. You two didn’t exactly have the best poker faces in the world.

“Come in.” You say, attempting to sound as normal as you can. The door opens and in walks Emily. “Hey, Y/n. Care if we talk for a moment?”

“Of course, come right in.” Emily nods, shutting the door behind her and sitting in the chair in front of your desk.

As Emily begins to talk with you about your most recent case paperwork and begins on giving you pointers on how to handle it quickly, Spencer is crouched underneath your desk and he has a perfect view up your skirt.

You’re too distracted with Emily being in the room to feel how his hands — his gorgeous hands — glide up and down your calf and they begin to reach in a higher place and you flinch as his nimble fingers touch your underwear.

Your eyes widen as Emily furrows her brows at you and seems to notice you’ve flinched. “Are you alright?” She asks and you nod, “Oh, yeah, super. Just too fidgety today,” You hold up your mug. “Too much coffee.”

Emily continues her advice as you feel Spencer removing your underwear down your thighs. You don’t see how he stuffs them in his pocket. He bunches your skirt to the best of his ability and you look down just for a brief moment to see that he’s become in a trance as he gawks at your wet pussy.

You’re so lucky that your desk is too high up for Emily to see what you two are doing. This is so wrong. You should definitely try and stop him but the fact that he could be caught underneath your desk — it just turns you on even more. Who knew you were such an exhibitionist?

“Another thing that I recommend that you do is—” You hardly listen to Emily as you try your best to give your undivided attention to her but it’s really difficult when the man you love is underneath your table, lapping at your pussy with his useful tongue.

You feel everything as he begins to suck on your clit and sticks his fingers into your hole and you try your best to keep a straight face. You bite your lip and try and keep yourself as hunched over as you can to not draw suspicion.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Emily asks, once more. “Uh, yeah,” Your cheeks redden. “I’m… just not feeling very…” You feel as he rolls his tongue in a figure-eight on your bundle of nerves. “Well at the… the moment.”

“If you need to go home, I can take over the rest of the day.” Emily offers and you think about it. You definitely need the time to punish your sweet boy for being needy and impatient, so maybe going home would be a good idea.

“Uh, that’s probably a good idea.” You say. “Why don’t you let the rest of the team know?” Emily nods and leaves the room and you wait for the door to shut to finally gasp and whimper.

As Emily exits the room, she walks away from the door and shudders. Yeah, she knew what the hell was happening. The team pretty much knew you two were together already. You guys didn’t have the best poker faces in the world.

“Oh, you naughty boy.” You back your seat up a bit as you run your hands through his hair. He takes his mouth off of you for a second to breathe. “I like seeing you in an authoritative position. It’s sexy.” With that, he dives back in, running his tongue through your folds again.

You take your hand through his locks, pushing him impossibly deeper into your pussy. “Oh, my God!” You exclaim softly, eyes rolling back as he finishes you off. “Come on, cum for me. Please. Please. Baby, please.” He pleads in your pussy, moaning and sending vibrations through your body as he sticks his fingers back inside.

You bite your lip to contain your moans in your office and you feel yourself gush over his face and look at him, his eyes blown with lust and love. “Did I do good?” Spencer asks, wiping his mouth of your essence and you smirk.

“You did.” You admit. “Now, that Emily’s gone, maybe I should finish what we started.” Spencer looks down and shakes his head, “No, I, uh, actually don’t need help with that anymore.”

You furrow your brows, look down and sure enough, Spencer’s slacks are a shade darker near his crotch. You should’ve expected this, he’d cum at the slightest touch.

“Somebody definitely wants to get punished tonight.” You tease, dragging a finger to his chin and he holds his arms up in surrender. “Hey, sorry I wanted to look good for my boss.”

You shake your head with a chuckle. He can be so impossible sometimes.

So, you tell him to exit the office as discreetly as he can with his blazer over his crotch to hide the evidence and to call in for the rest of the day, making an excuse that there’s a bug going around so you can edge him for hours on end when he gets to your apartment.

[456-is-the-way]

Hi! I was wondering if you if you could do a smutty In-ho x fem! Reader x Gi-Hun. Something along the line of they are both pining and see each other go to talk to reader alone and decide to wait. In-ho talks to her during lights out and Gi-hun talks to her doing mingle. In the final fight, she goes with either in-ho or Gi-hun and the stand of at the end, ends with them deciding to truce for a moment and share reader.

A/n: OMG A smutty story with both the hottest daddies!? Yet people keep the requests coming because I have many more to write! I hope to post at least 3 stories a week only because I am returning to my job after my holiday vacation! ALSO regarding the TAGLIST IDK why it won't let me add people like some it won't bring their name up SO I am not sure how to fix that RIP Im sorry y'all!!! ALSO, late tonight or tomorrow my part 1 of my 4-part Gi-Hun story is coming out!! (Hints of In-ho x reader) will also be in the story! Next week I'll have 3 more requests stories done!

Trigger warning: SMUT

Squid Game Masterlist

In-ho x Reader x Gi-hun

Love and War

Being in the games was the last thing (Y/n) was expecting, or at least in a life-or-death situation. She took a breath, looking over the group she was lucky enough to be in. Gi-hun did not hide the looks in her direction. Her (e/c) orbs meet his. (Y/n) could feel her cheeks warm up as Gi-hun winked. She turned away, looking at the ground quickly. How could two people be so obvious in their lustful looks? Their group quickly picked up on their subtle hints, flirtatious works, mindful touches, and lustful gazes. However, it sparked a rivalry between Gi-hun and his newfound friendship with Young-Il. The other gentleman also expressed his feelings towards (Y/n), which did not go unnoticed. (Y/n) happily reciprocated the attention she received from both of these handsome bachelors. It was lights out, and as normal, their group gathered in one spot, taking turns on night shift duty. Many thought of them as one of the strongest teams for now. In-ho sighed deeply as he was woken by Jung-bae. “Your turn.” He whispered. In-ho only responded with a grunt getting up to take his place by (Y/n). In-ho looked over her figure. It honestly pained him to lie to (Y/n) of all people. While scouting for participants, he would collect all their data and reasoning for poor financial situations. He never showed favor or pity towards anyone until now. Why did it have to be her of all people?

“I can take watch by myself if you need me to. I want you to have all the rest. Especially for the next challenge… I am nervous to find out what it may be.” In-ho whispered. She gave him such a warm and loving smile. In-ho had not felt butterflies like this in his stomach in so long the feeling was almost foreign. The way her eyes would almost sparkle while gazing into his. In-ho felt his breath be taken away every time.

“No, I won't allow you to not have a partner. We agreed on pairs of two. I am going to be fine. I could say the same for you, Young-Il.” She gazed into his eyes and before anything else could be said In-ho leaned in kissing her deeply. (Y/n) gasped but did not pull back once his warm lips dominated hers. In-ho cupped her cheek before letting his hand trail down squeezing her beast. “W-Wait.” Her voice seemed weak from the desire but quickly In-ho stopped all his advances.

“Fuck (Y/n) I am so sorry if I hurt you.” His eyes showed nothing but absolute worry.

“Young-Il, you didn’t hurt me. I just. We cant I-”

“You love Gi-hun. Don’t you?” He asked.

She looked away rubbing her temples. “I am unsure who I like. I have feelings for you both but if we act out on them… If you or him dies I would never be able to get over your death, or is..” She leans against In-ho resting on his shoulder.

“I understand…I love you.”

“I… I love you as well.” (Y/n) whispered cuddling into him.

….

After the night the next game had started early that morning, and (Y/n) had not been expecting what was to come. As the game commenced it felt very intense making sure the groups had the correct amount of people in each room. They even teamed up with new players they clicked with instantly. As it began getting lower in numbers for each door (Y/n) became nervous. She felt Gi-hun grab her hand gently. “I got you.” He whispered. Once the merry-go-round stopped and the number was ‘2’ he instantly took off with her ultimately forgetting about any of the others. Even shamelessly (Y/n) did not even look back for In-ho. Once in the room the door instantly shut. The female leaned against the wall as Gi-hun was breathing heavily on the other side of the room, “Gi-hun, are you okay?”

Gi-hun did not bother to answer before walking over to (Y/n) and kissing her deeply. The female lets a shaken moan out as their bodies are pressed against each other. His hands hold her waist before lowering down her backside and cupping her ass. “G…Gi-hun, babe, we cant.” Her body was on fire for this handsome older man.

“You love me… I know you do.” He let you go resting his forehead against yours.

“I…I do love you. I have since the moment I laid eyes on you. I can’t be with you Gi-hun. I wont risk getting attached-”

“Is it because of Young-Il? Is that the true reason? I heard you both talking last night. I know you have feelings for him of some kind… I want to know if he-”

“No, my love it's not because of Young-Il… I care for you both but if I got too attached and lost either of you I… I wouldn't be able to ever move on.” When the doors unlocked she took his hand, “Talk later okay?”

Gi-hun nods walking out as their hand in hand. In-ho instantly noticed and sent a glare at Gi-hun who met his gaze with a stronger one.

…

(Y/n) was soaked in her friend's blood as she was on her knees. Gi-hun and Jung-Bae beside her on their knees. In front of them stood a man who organized the games. With a quick hand motion from the man in the black mask, Jung-Bae was pulled away. Gi-hun went to help but a gun was quickly pulled out.

“Don’t” (Y/n) begged, tearing up. Her eyes widen as the gun slowly is lowered.

“I love you (Y/n).” The Front Man whispered she glared into his eyes.

“I hate you.” She glared. In-ho took a moment before removing his mask. Both (Y/n) and Gi-hun gave his a look showing all their bundled up emotions. “You… are the Frontman. HOW COULD YOU!” (Y/n) cried loudly .

In-ho leans down, “My real name is In-ho, I joined yes, but I never expected to fall in love with you! Please… Let me have you before anything else happens… Gi-hun.” He turned to his friend who reluctantly nodded they both desired you and that over powered all current feeling. The triangle guard let Gi-hun free before leaving.

“Please lets forget about all of this. For a few moments.” Gi-hun adds agreeing with In-ho. What felt like eternity she agrees.

Gi-hun instantly pulled her against his frame smashing their lips together. In-ho kneels down pressing against her back side kissing up (Y/n)’s neck. The female moaned loudly into the kiss as her body is sandwiched between theirs. “Fuck.” She gasped as Gi-hun trailed down to the other side of her neck. In-ho proceeded to slides his large hands under her shirt cupping her bare breasts. Her nipples already were hard. “Ngh! (Y/n) whined as he pinch them roughly pulling her buds harshly.

“Take her shirt off.” In-ho growled.

“Slide her pants down.” Gi-hun adds. (Y/n) had no time to react before her shirt was being lifted and sweatpants pulled down swiftly. Once practically naked she puts a hand on their bulges rubbing both men. They let out a shaken groan each, Gi-hun’s voice held a submissive tone while In-ho growled dominantly. Their already hardening cocks were at full attention. Gi-hun’s leaking precum at the tip. In-ho leans his forhead against (Y/n)’s shoulder cock twitching as she worked both touch starved men.

“F-Fuck I’m close.” Gi-hun whined.

In-ho chuckled,” Baby slow down before he blows a load in your hands. Let us inside of you.”

“MMmm… But will b-both fit?” She asked inhaling as Gi-hun reached down feeling her soaking wet panties.

“Fuck you are soaked honey. Did jerking us off turn you on that much?.. Yes dear we will both fit.”

(Y/n) nods and spreads her legs, In-ho nods to Gi-hun, She arches, feeling both their cocks brushing her entrance. “AHH FUCK Gi-hun. In-ho!~” (Y/n) was held up by the men who began roughly thrusting into her tight and warm pussy.

“Fuck baby you are tight.” “Your pussy was made for your us.” “Going to fill you up.”

Both of their praises made the knot tighten inside of her. “FUCK!” She cried out as their cock meet the perfect rythem until she felt the euphoria hit all at once. Her pussy clams down making both men cum deep inside. The three now lay there panting in pleasure. (Y/n) closed her eyes.

“I love you both.” Her voice is strained. Gi-hun instantly responsed with a quick ‘I love you back’ .

In-ho sighed deeply kissing her cheek knowing nothing would be the same after this. He loved her too much.

[dekariosclan]

Note, this is an Anon ask that I reformatted to allow for the 18+ cut!

———

Anonymous asked:

Idk where this thought even came from, apologies if it’s just dumb. But I can’t decide how in my head this would play out, and I am dying to know what a Gale expert thinks.

The scenario: Gale is on a work retreat, leaving his spouse Tav at home. This Tav is possibly not a spellcaster, so in case of emergency Gale left behind a Sending scroll if they need to reach him.

18+ under the cut

But Tav feels mischievous, and waits till late one night to use the scroll while… touching themselves. And so out of nowhere, Gale gets 25 words worth of his spouse just moaning and breathily saying his name straight into his head.

Now Tav waited until late in the hopes that Gale would get this message while he was alone and prepping to sleep, not with his colleagues… they were wrong. They had all gotten to talking and Gale is still very much with them.

How would Gale react????

————

———

——

—

———

Gale, standing up so abruptly his chair tips over, startling his colleagues: “Well! Hasn’t this been a pleasant gathering! My apologies, but I need to take my leave. Do enjoy the rest of your evening, and I’ll see you all again in sex—

—SIX! In SIX hours!”

[pinkaditty]

Starstruck Coral (Romeo Lucci x Reader; Tokyo Debunker)

okay so uh. i don’t really know how to explain this one. like truly i don’t. i feel like it came 2 me in a vision from a higher power or something bc this doesn’t feel like it was my own idea, much less self-indulgent, but regardless??? i actually like it!!!!

a/n: what i can say is that this was directly inspired by me buying this lip plumper tint called "Starstruck Coral" and how literally everyone around me once i put it on was like "ITS SO PRETTY!!" so yea. that's what this is. also. yea. been writing a lot of porn-free fics lately. don’t worry, im not uninspired. rather, i just wanna focus on budding feelings 4 a little while. then it’ll be back 2 porn i promise. im too insane 2 be kept from porn 4 very long i fear. 

maybe part 2? maybe? idk yet i dunno. i might. i might not. we’ll see what my brain says…

summary: romeo cannot stand your visage so he styles it to his liking. why are you suddenly the belle of the ball? (leo, rui, haru, ed, and lyca make guest appearances here lol)

cw: some sexual comments. minors dni as per usual. no smut i fear!

“...Why are we doing this, again?”

“Shut up.” Romeo’s voice is practically seething with barely restrained anger as you interrupt his focus for the umpteenth time. He holds up one finger in the air towards you, not even turning to look at you. He slowly puts his finger down, and his hands twitch, clearly resisting the urge to ball into fists. “Just shut up. Let me handle this.”

Romeo continues perusing the available colors. Pearlescent White, Modest Matte Mauve, Cherry Pop Red, Hot Tease Pink, Starstruck Coral, and Raven’s Wing Black. He narrows his eyes and whips his head around to your face, studying your features intensely. His eyes pause on your lips, and he frowns as you roll them between your teeth nervously. 

“Would you stop-! Urgh, nevermind.” He starts before abruptly stopping, turning fully towards you and grabbing your face, directing it in different angles in the light. He pays strong attention to your lips, noting the thickness, color, and shape of them. He grumbles to himself, looking back at the colors on the shelf. Only one seems to be a perfect match.

Starstruck Coral. That’s the one.

He plucks it off the shelf and places it in the basket before stalking off to the cash register. He knows you know to follow him, and you do, meekly following his steps, still unsure of the purpose of this outing. You shift idly from one foot to the other as he pays at the cash register, listening to the general ambiance of the store. People chattering, items being scanned, wheels of carts rolling along the tile floor. You’re idly reading the label of a pop culture magazine when Romeo appears at your side, sour expression etched into his face. It makes you jump, and he looks at you with an even sourer expression. “Let’s go,” is all he says, his voice loud and demanding, leaving little room for argument. He walks off again, casting a look over his shoulder to ensure you’re following him, which you are, confused expression still stuck on your face. 

The two of you return to the Darkwick train station through a door labeled “Employees Only”, careful not to get caught. Once you board the train, Romeo unceremoniously tosses the bag of products towards you and sits across from you. His expression is enough to broadcast that he’s more than over this, despite having spent hours meticulously scanning the available products to find the ones that best matched your skin. He studies you again as you take your seat and the train begins to move. His eyes rove over your face again, as though picking apart your appearance in search of flaws. He hardly flinches when you look up and catch his gaze, though when you nervously turn away, he sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Go on. Ask what you want to ask.” His voice comes out exactly as exasperated as he’d meant it to be. He would hope this would discourage you from asking any questions, but he knew better than that.

He watches you shift nervously before speaking up, looking down at your fingers fidgeting with the bag instead of making eye contact with him. “...What is all of this for?”

He exhales, already sick of answering your questions even though he hadn’t answered any. “That anomalous cloak does not do your makeup for you.” Part of him assumes this would be enough explanation, but at your still confused expression, he rolls his eyes and continues explaining. “I am tired of going on missions with someone as basic and unappealing as you. If you are going to be a constant, I insist you at least know how to do your makeup to fit in when we go on high-class missions.” He doesn’t bother sugarcoating anything. Instead, he leans back in his seat again, deciding this was a job well done. He hears the crinkling of the bag and pops one eye open, watching you as you study the products in the bag. You pull out the Starstruck Coral lip tint and suddenly you have his full attention. He opens both eyes and tries to discreetly lean forward, watching as you turn the box around in your hands. He was awful proud of that choice. It was the perfect ombre blend of coral and pink, not too warm and not too cool. It would match your undertone perfectly and it even had a shimmering quality to it. So long as you wore it right, he was sure it’d refine your appearance an exceptional amount. 

After finishing praising himself for his genius internally, he leans his head back onto his seat, content to just get this over with. As long as you didn’t look as constantly unappealing as you usually did on missions, it would be fine. He couldn’t get why, but it irritated him. Granted, your skin was okay at best. There were some acne scars here and there, blackheads all over your nose, and slightly puffy undereye, which he suspected was from not getting enough sleep on this accursed campus. Other than those faults, your skin was okay. No visible outbreaks or dryness. He had to applaud you for at least taking his advice to heart and moisturizing a little bit. It had done noticeable wonders, at least to him. 

He hears the unmistakable sound of plastic wrap being torn, and he perks up again, noticing you unwrapping the Starstruck Coral lip tint. He leans forward again, curiosity suddenly bubbling within him. “Put it on.” He says before he can think about it, his eyes focused on the small unwrapped box in your hands.

“...Huh?” You give him a puzzled look, tilting your head. His eyes flick towards you in annoyance and he gestures towards the box, his eyebrows furrowing in irritation.

“Don’t be dense, put it on!” 

You nod hurriedly, and he can tell from the way your eyes glimmer that you’d wanted to try it. He has to resist the urge to smile, your subtle but affirming reaction filling him with pride. He watches as you open the box and pull out the lip tint, turning it over in your hands before unscrewing it open. Romeo can already feel himself growing impatient, idly tapping his foot as he waits for you to start. “It may be a little messy because I don’t have a mirror, but I’ll do my best.” You warn him, finally unscrewing the tint, admiring the pretty ombre color. He sits up when you speak, and unbeknownst to you, a scowl crosses his face momentarily. You hear his footsteps before you see him, crossing the short distance across the train in record speed and snatching the tint away from you before you could apply it with shaky hands. 

When you look up at him questioningly, he shakes his head, holding the tint and applicator brush in his hand. “Just hold still.” 

With that, he leans over you, placing the thin tube of tint in your hands and firmly holding your chin, his eyes seemingly glued to your lips. “Open.” When you do as he says, he gently applies the tint to your bottom lip, pursing his own lightly glossed lips as he focuses. He exhales, and fails to notice the way you shiver, his breath fanning over your neck. His knuckles gently press into the soft skin of your cheek and chin as he carefully follows the border of your lips, watching as the plush skin yields to the pressure before plumping up again. Somewhat caught between a haze of his intense focus applying the tint and unexpected fascination with the buoyancy of your lips, Romeo accidentally smudges some of the tint. Despite his bubbling annoyance at his own blunder, for a moment, it’s an almost charming imperfection. The lip tint glitters against your skin, smudged just off the corner of your parted lips. If he were any more brazen, he would have given in to the odd temptation unfurling in his stomach to simply kiss it away. Fortunately for him and his own reputation, he’s far more proper than that. With a pointed glare at the corner of your lips, he wipes away the smudge with his gloved thumb. He glances at the sparkling residue left on his glove before wiping it away onto your top lip. When you flinch in response, he has to suppress a shiver down his spine. This action was inexplicably intimate, yet he didn’t understand where his flusteredness was coming from. There was no reason to act nor feel like this.

He applies the tint to your top lip in a more rushed fashion, suddenly wanting to replace the earlier distance between you two. He frowns when he finishes, nitpicking any slight smudges or missed spots, before stepping away, admiring his work. “There.” He plucks the tint from your grasp, screwing the applicator back on and tossing it into the bag. “...This might be good enough,” he says, feigning confidence, but he can hear the way his voice wavers with uncertainty, a part of him itching to do more. His gaze flickers upwards to meet yours and an idea pops into his head. He could do your lashes. They were long by itself, but some of the mascara he’d bought couldn’t hurt. Despite himself, he finds himself sitting back down in front of you, reaching for and holding your chin firmly again. He turns your head every which way, determining what else he could do to refine your appearance some. Unfortunately, he’s aware this train ride ends soon, and he feels himself getting nauseous at the idea of spending more time with you than he has to, despite the anticipation crawling up his spine. He reaches for the bag again, pulling out the mascara he’d bought earlier. When you reach out your hand to apply it yourself, he gently swats your hand away. “No. Hold still.”

He doesn’t give you much choice, still holding your chin and pulling your face closer to his. He purses his lips again, telling you not to blink as he applies your mascara. He finds himself staring at your eye color, noting the color of the mascara in comparison. Perhaps next time he ought to choose something that made your eyes stand out more, or maybe that’d be easier done with some eyeshadow in the correct shade. He decides to halt his thoughts there, scowling. He had to focus, and he was damn well sure there wouldn’t be a ‘next time’. He internally recoils at the thought of having to peruse the shelves with you over his shoulder again, constantly shifting your expressions, making it harder for him to focus. The slight furrow in your brow even now was distracting, and all he could think about was how he wanted to remind you that frowning causes wrinkles, and you would be especially susceptible to them if you didn’t keep up your skincare regime. Instead, he lets go of your chin and flicks you between your brows, frowning at you himself. When you get the message and relax your expression, he nods appreciatively and continues his task, moving to your other eye. 

Finally, the task was complete. His eyes flick back and forth between your eyes, watching as you blink at him dubiously. When satisfied, he pulls away, screwing the applicator back into the mascara and observing your face. Your eyes seemed wider and brighter, and the added mascara helped your lashes appear longer. Your lips were bright and shimmering, still covered in that Starstruck Coral color. Romeo smiles to himself, proud with how he managed to turn around your appearance with so little. He reaches for your face again, holding your cheeks with considerable tenderness, as though scared one wrong move would smudge and ruin the perfect portrait of you. He doesn’t realize he’s holding his breath as he gazes at you, checking your entire face for imperfections, glazing over the negligible or unnoticeable imperfections that couldn’t be immediately cleared. He exhales, feeling himself gleam with pride as a reluctant smile digs into his cheeks yet again. He sits down beside you, still holding your face. “Non c'è male…” He mutters to himself, finding his gaze lingering again on the pretty ombre mesh of pink and orange and red on your lips. Truly, Starstruck Coral had been the right choice. 

He’s basking in his pride more when he hears the shutter click of a camera, and a whistle in a familiar voice. “Now this will do numbers on WickHive.” The same familiar voice cackles and Romeo already knows he hadn’t moved away quickly enough to avoid the picture. One glance up and there he is, Leo, staring down smugly at his phone, where the incriminating image is probably being held. Surprisingly, hunched over Leo’s shoulder is Rui, inspecting the picture with a crease in his brow. Romeo cannot believe his lack of luck. 

Romeo catches it when Rui makes eye contact with you, and it doesn’t escape him how Rui’s eyes flicker with an emboldened interest. Stepping past Leo, Rui heads to you with an extra skip in his step, wide smile already spreading across his face. His voice is higher than usual, and Romeo wonders if mere makeup was enough to trip up the ladykiller himself. “Woooow, MC!” He stops a short distance away from you, his eyes flickering across your face as he takes in your makeup. “You look cuter than usual today. What’s brought this on, huh?” Rui’s tone is filled with mirth as he pokes your nose playfully. Romeo stiffens and has to bite back the urge to swat his hand away from your face. 

Romeo carefully watches your reaction, and is almost relieved when you don’t smile immediately. “You like it? I haven’t seen how it looks yet.” You reply to Rui, a little hesitant but clearly glad for the praise. 

Rui sticks his bottom lip out in a mock pout. “Awww, you should! You look so cute!” His face breaks out into a wide smile again, and it’s almost crushingly obvious that Rui’s a flirtier version of Kaito at this point. “I’m assuming we have you to thank for this, hm?” Romeo looks up to notice Rui’s gaze on him as Rui vaguely gestures in your direction. 

Romeo doesn’t resist the urge to puff his chest out a bit, folding his arms indignantly. “Indeed.” His terse answer doesn’t hide his swelling pride, he’s aware, but brevity is the soul of wit, which he likes to claim to possess.

“He picked out some makeup items for me.” You chime in, holding up the bag with a relaxed smile. It seems you’ve finally taken to Rui’s compliments. 

Rui shakes his head with a complicated look in his eyes, clearly picking up on the message behind the gift, but happy for you nonetheless. “Well, leave it to Romeo to pick out such a pretty color. It suits you.” Rui winks at you before finally finding a seat on the train, just across from you, taking Romeo’s former seat.

Leo, who’s clearly been either editing the picture or waiting his turn to soak up all the attention, saunters up to you, smug smile still on his face. Romeo doesn’t miss how your earlier smile seems to fade all at once. He would laugh, but it’s not that funny. 

“Gotta say, I agree with Rui. Who knew…” Leo trails off, his fingers reaching for your chin and holding it with uncharacteristic tenderness, tilting your face upwards towards him. Romeo notices how you stiffen at the contact. “...That the honor student could be—” Leo suddenly snaps his lips shut, and Romeo can tell from the way his lips purse despite being in a smug smirk that he had to bite back a compliment. Leo only falters slightly, brow creasing minutely before quickly straightening again, lips quirking back up into a teasing smile, more words as demeaning as they were saccharine sweet on the tip of his tongue. “Well, it suits you. You might even be unrecognizable enough to pass as a beauty in this picture.” Leo smirks, waving his phone in his hand. 

Romeo finds himself intervening before he can really think about it. He swats Leo’s hand away from your chin. “Stop that. You’ll smudge her foundation.” A blatant lie, but it would be sound enough to get him to back off, Romeo hopes. Something about this was fraying at his nerves. 

Leo raises a crooked brow at Romeo, a slow, shit-eating grin spreading across his face. “I don’t know, Romeo. The blackheads on her nose account for a lack of any foundation at all. Nice try, though.” Romeo should be thankful Leo lets it go, but all he can do is turn away indignantly, feeling his face burn with embarrassment. He hears a chuckle before light footsteps padding away, and gently exhales, pinching the bridge of his nose. By god, of all people to board the train at that moment… 

Rui walks at a much faster pace than you and Romeo, strained expression on his face. He’d left Lyca and Ed in charge of the bar while he was off on a short mission, as he explained earlier, and could only hope that they hadn’t mistakenly set the bar on fire. 

Romeo was headed to the bar for drinks, and as far as he was concerned, you were coming with him. The earlier incident with Leo convinced him he cannot let you out of his sight for today. Leo had cited some excuse for not coming to the bar, but Romeo could tell from the grin Leo flashed his way that he can expect that picture to be all over WickHive by evening. A drink to forget it, even temporarily, would be enough for Romeo. 

Rui heaves a sigh of relief as he steps into the bar, glad to find nothing on fire nor destroyed, but Lyca doing the work while Ed sits perched at the bar. A red shock of hair buried in a white sleeve also denotes another guest. Romeo has to grit his teeth, remembering how Haru went on and on about you after first meeting you. He can only imagine the endless waterfall of praise he’ll surely come up with on the spot seeing you even remotely dolled up. He makes a mental note to bring painkillers for the inevitable headaches he gets when he comes here and Haru happens to arrive. 

Clearly, Romeo needs to be more forthright about how he’s trying to protect his ears, because when you plop yourself down in the seat right next to Haru, all he feels is dread. He quickly slips into the seat on your other side, despite there being no remaining danger. 

Rui, finally behind the bar, gently nudges Haru. He immediately raises his head, and Romeo can’t tell if he woke up that quickly or was already awake and out of it so soon. The faint blush on his face indicates the latter. As Haru reorients himself, Romeo notices Lyca peering at you oddly. He’d never so much as heard this boy speak, but something tells him he’s going to be as much as, if not more of, a headache than Haru. 

“Oh, hi MC-! …Wait. Something’s different about you.” Haru’s voice had its classic drawl it always had when he’s getting close to being hammered. Romeo’s sure it’s loud enough to be heard from Obscuary’s entrance. He watches, jaw clenched tight as Haru inspects you. Boldly, and probably not realizing how drunk he is, Haru reaches out, his gloved fingers lightly tracing the skin above your eyebrows. Romeo notices you don’t recoil at this touch, but he doesn’t know if it’s because you know he’s drunk or if you happen to not dislike Haru. Both options are less than ideal.

Puzzled expression still stuck on his face, Haru traces his fingers downwards, caressing your cheek. “Yea…” He mutters to himself, his eyes tracing the path of his fingers. “Something’s…” his fingers reach the corner of your lips, “...Different…Oh!” His eyes widen like it’s finally occurred to him, and his gaze remains transfixed on your lips, shimmering coral color still bright and undisturbed on them. “You’re wearing makeup!” 

“Is that what that is?” Lyca cuts in, suddenly appearing behind you, craning his neck to get a good look at your face. He narrows his eyes, scrutinizing your appearance before leaning away, satisfied. He crosses his arms, a light blush dusting his face as he tries to ignore the staring he just did. “Hmph. It’s pretty.” His compliment is short and terse, but Romeo can tell from your relieved sigh that you’re happy to receive it nonetheless. However, said compliment is quickly followed up by: “...You reek of the damn blond gigolo, though.”

Rui stiffens behind the bar, cleaning a glass. “Come on, my cologne isn’t that potent.” He looks up from his task to find all five of you avoiding his gaze. 

Ignoring Rui’s distressed cry of shock, Haru turns to you again. “Lyca’s right. It is pretty. Though…” Haru leans towards you, his chin propped up in his hands, “I always thought you were quite the looker, you know.” His smile is disarmingly handsome, even to Romeo. His flushed cheeks and lovestruck gaze probably only add to it. Romeo suppresses a gag, turning away. 

Rui, having partially recovered from the prior shock, also leans towards you, resting his cheek in his palm, partially hiding a cheeky smile. He hums in agreement with Haru, nodding. “Can’t disagree with that. You’re an attractive gal.”

Romeo shivers, ready to pull you away from Haru and Rui’s gazes. When Lyca cranes his neck to gaze at you again, Romeo snaps. 

“Will you horny dogs keep your dicks in your pants and your lascivious gazes off of her?!” He knows he’s one to talk considering the way your lips simply shimmering was enough to disarm him on the train, but still. This was ridiculous. 

“Really, now…” A soft, low, velvety voice echoes through the silence following Romeo’s outburst. Ed appears behind you, gently placing his hands over your ears. He mockingly frowns disapprovingly at Romeo. “Using such vulgar language in front of a lady…” He shakes his head and tuts a few times, a smile crawling onto his face. “Surely you know your manners?”

Rui chimes in, teasing grin all over his face. “He may need a refresher on them.”

With that, Haru, Rui, and Ed dissolve into snickers, just as Romeo bursts into a blush. Lyca, off to the side, looks a little confused. 

“I don’t get it. Why not use words like that in front of her?”

Romeo’s walking you home. He insisted on it. He wasn’t about to let a repeat of him being humiliated yet again by your side, nor was he going to let some other ghoul or normal human lay his eyes on you, at that. Maybe this makeup was a bad idea. But then, he turns to sneak a quick glance at you. Your expression appears quite pleased, and your shimmering lips are curled into a small smile. 

Well. Maybe it wasn’t that bad of an idea. 

“Thank you.” Romeo’s surprised to hear you pipe up, and turns towards you questioningly. 

“For what?”

“For the makeup.” You gaze at him kindly, giving him a small smile. He’s taken aback by it. “Can’t say you were kind about it, but I appreciate it regardless.” 

Romeo hardly stiffens at the comment. He knows he wasn’t particularly kind about it, but that’s the point. How else is someone who can hardly remove their blackheads going to take proper care of their skin? He glances at you out of the corner of his eye, letting his thoughts run around his head. Part of him wondered if he had another reason for buying you makeup in the first place, and why this entire gift felt like it was only going to bite him in the ass later. Maybe it already was, what with how you’d managed to catch the attention of every single ghoul they’d encountered today. But that didn’t make sense. Why would you gaining attention bite him in the ass? He shakes his head, a blush forming on his face as though he already knows the answer. 

“Shut up. Just use it on missions.” Romeo’s response is as terse as ever, quick and to the point. He watches as you roll your eyes, and something in him twinges, partially wishing he could’ve given a nicer comment. 

When you arrive at the chapel, he watches you bound up the steps, sticking around despite himself. He musters up an obligatory “Good Night,” right before you close the door on him, and he watches as your shimmering Starstruck Coral lips pull into a grin. 

“Goodnight, Romeo.”

He turns away as you close the door, ready to fill the rest of his walk back to Sinostra with more pondering. His phone buzzing in his pocket interrupts his peace, however, and he turns it on only to find an innumerable amount of notifications from WickHive. 

“Kurosagi…” He curses his name under his breath. “When I get you…”

a/n: yippee!!!!!!! im surprised i managed to finish this. i honestly like it a lot, i think it's really cute and i like the way i wrote it. i genuinely hope you guys like it too!!!!!

shameless note that, as usual, i love likes, comments, tagged reblogs, and asks!! please feel free to let me know in any way you like just how much you loved my writing! it's what keeps me going!

until next time!!!

EDIT BC I SOMEHOW FORGOT?: a few hc's im adding 4 relevance's sake:

rui wears strong cologne and douses himself in it

haru has grey eyes

that's all yippee!!

[fangphobia]

⭐️ Don't let the STARS get in your eyes. ⭐️

_

I've been really struggling with artblock lately and struggling to find much reason to draw beyond using it for my own emotional regulation (#autismthings).

‼️ Don't re-upload my art. Dishonour on your cow if you do ‼️

I'm in a head space of wanting to delete majority of my art because I can't stand to look at most of it, but people felt the need to reupload a bunch of it to other sites, so I feel I need to keep it up so people know who made it. Idk. I'm probably just in my head about it.

[xxepherr]

hasan blurb/fic idea or request (idk if your taking requests?)

hasan blurb/fic based on the tree decorating stream but reader is very particular about how she thinks tree should be decorated and hasan just sits back and observes her lovingly decorating the tree while chat is saying he's down bad the whole time 😩

.ೃ࿐HEART EYES

summary — in which hasan can't help but sit back and watch with adoration while you decorate his christmas tree

pairings — hasan piker x reader

pronouns — she/her

word count — 736

note — they're not dating in this one but you can assume they're unofficially dating or not yet at the point of sharing their feelings. up to you! (also this is super late but i was away for the christmas period so!!)

YOU'D STAYED OFF YOUR phone ever since you last watched hasan and murat go to home depot with rae, marche and qt. you technically had other things to be doing — for one, finishing wrapping christmas presents — but you also wanted to be entirely blindsided by what hasan would be bringing home with him.

to be fair though, you hadn’t expected him to bring home multiple dog statues. when you knocked on the door to hasan’s house and his dad welcomed you inside, you were hoping that he’d come back with a tree and decorations, maybe some lights that you could string up across the trees in his yard.

the tree you were currently staring at was ugly. seriously ugly. apparently it was qt’s choice ( like the dogs ) to get it, and apparently it was the least ugly according to murat.

YOU stood there in the most disappointed fashion anyone had ever seen. once glance at chat and they all shared the exact same sympathy.

“hasan,” you interrupted his mindless chatter about how he was decorating the tree. you weren’t even sure who he was talking to anymore — it sounded more like he was trying to reason with himself that he was doing a good job. “can i just—“ you cut yourself off, now wanting to sound demanding when you were his guest. “nevermind.”

he had stopped the second he heard your voice directed at him instead of chat anyway, the baubles forgotten about in his large hands. “what’s up?” he asked, all his attention on you.

you blinked. “uh, tinsel and lights usually look better if you put them on first.”

without a word, he scooted the box of baubles away with his foot and pulled the tinsel off from where it was hanging around his neck like a scarf. “then it’s all yours,” he announced, placing the tinsel around your neck like a silver medal.

the atmosphere was different because qt and rae weren’t sticking around for the decorating. you kind of wished they had stayed because the vibes would've been easier to deal with. you hadn't been alone on stream with hasan since the recent . . . development in feelings that had started to bubble up into existence.

the second the ornaments were in your hand, you were in complete control of decorations. years and years of being the designated tree decorator as a kid were coming back full force. you started at the top, walking around the tree to sit the lights in an evenly spaced manner down the tree, and then did the same with the tinsel.

hasan was — uncharacteristically — at a loss for words. his eyes were on you the entire time, capturing every movement you made as if he would miss a thing if he blinked. he had very little commentary, fixated on every aspect of you like you would disappear, slipping away like you were never in his house in the first place.

the chat was not helping his case.

"shut up, chat," he tried to keep his voice low and serious, "i am not down bad. shut the fuck up."

you heard him of course, the space between you not large enough to whisper secrets. that, and you'd felt his eyes burning holes through you, a silent shadow across every one of your movements. every ornament

you heard him of course, the space between you not large enough to whisper secrets. that, and you'd felt his eyes burning holes through you, a silent shadow across every one of your movements. every ornament — all of it. you could only imagine what his twitch chat was saying as he cleared his throat uncomfortably at being caught.

he didn't have the pleasure of staying in the unknown, unable to tear his eyes away from every chat message, peripheral vision on you through the monitor. every down bad, whipped, are they dating? multiplied tenfold, then triple that. and triple it again. he was in for it now, and you were — supposedly — none the wiser to any of it.

you knew, you could tell. heat burnt across your cheeks as you kept your back turned, yapping on about decorations to chat to provide an out to hasan, a way for him to involve himself in the conversation to change the topic.

there was really no use in keeping it a secret now.

[should-know-better]

A conversation through Instagram?

This post 'And if you're thinking of ME, I'm probably thinking of YOU, made by @thetruthisfictional made me think - WHY did Alex decide to point at the Mirrorball / Miles representation on that day?

So delved a bit further. A huge thank you to @nicoscheer for keeping such accurate records of Miles' stories and posts. It made this so much easier. (Also, this is all just my wild theory and I have no proper proof as usual.)

Friday 22/09/2023 Who knows what started this all off, but on this day, Miles posts two stories:

The lyrics for "Seen The Light" include: "Well what you do is up to you, / I'll take my hat and push on through," (full lyrics in link)

"Infa Riot" lyrics include: "time to take control again and be the only one." "It's not too late to free your mind" "cos I don't think any-one cares." (full lyrics in link) This could be interpreted as either Miles saying that he's going to be who he wants to be, OR if it's a message to Alex, it's suggesting that he stands up for himself.

So what happens?

Saturday 23/09/2023 Arctic Monkeys are at the Pacific Colosseum in Vancouver and debut, "HELLO YOU.” I know that AM could have been pre-planned that they were doing this track tonight but to me, the timing?? Idk it just feels so coincidental.

It's as though Alex is answering with that final hopeful verse, about in the future he'll go back to being that person he was aged 17 (the meaning behind, "Hello You," discussed here.)

To try to keep this short(ish) I'll quickly say that Miles posts more stories where he's having a a nice Saturday night in with Maxie, then out for Sunday lunch with his Mum. The music accompanying these are all from The Beatles, (which ties in with his Mum being there) but he could have chosen any songs, and these all tie in with the ‘conversation’. They can all be seen as having a double meaning (1) as an accompanying to the story and (b) a message to Alex. Check out the lyrics from each track:

Roll Over Beethoven - (esp verse 6 and "the jukebox blows a fuse" - there's a post referring to Alex as a jukebox here!)

This Boy

Do You Want To Know A Secret?

Monday 25/09/2023 Amongst the breezy 'up and at em' post that Miles makes, and, the feeling lazy Jim Royle stories, there's two more tracks.

The lyrics from "Good at Breaking Hearts," lyrics could have been written about the Milex LA split, they are so apt. However, the main theme behind, "Chunky," is to keep the party going and carry on as long as you can.

Again, if these are just random songs that Miles likes, then it's very spooky, because the next thing that happens is...

Tuesday 26/09/2023

https://www.tumblr.com/standingnexttome2012/772210477873938432

During Body Paint, Alex points at the Mirrorball and sings, "if you're thinking of me, I'm probably thinking of you."

I'm not sure if this is the only time he does this, but in many of the clips I've watched, he doesn't. So, once again, why on this date? Another coincidence? Am I just fitting song lyrics to a narrative? When you look closely, there seems to be something going on.

[vatelixx]

There will be no soft epilogue,

Post-prison (traumatised) Spencer Reid x afab!BAU reader

More angst than smut (i hurt myself in the process, we all suffer), but there’s still copious amounts of both. Explorations of Spencer’s trauma & his anger in relation. Autistic Spencer is a given, even if it’s not touched upon explicitly (its indisputably canon to me).

Warnings: heavy sub spencer (confirmed me classic), corruption kink (idk how i managed to sneak that one in here), possessive undertones (eg, mentions of owning), praise kink, choking, Spencer is so in love it might actually be fatal, lots (lots) of begging, Reader is mean but low-key submissive to him in an emotional sense. They’re both damaged, but its okay, bcos they’ve romanticised it.

w.c: 4.9k

a/n: sorry, my hiatus went on for longer than i initially expected. i was just burnt out and evil. there wasn’t supposed to be smut in this, but i’m clearly the biggest whore around.

────────────

Spencer used to think he knew everything. That there wasn’t a piece of information too obscure, too intricate that his brain, his renowned, academically awarded, brain couldn’t comprehend. Maybe he was naive, or maybe, maybe there was less fault in his logic, and more fault in his decisions. Decisions that tarnished his youth, that slowly tore away at him, year by year, until there was nothing left of him to be remembered by.

Everything hurts tonight. And sure, he’s angry again, angry at himself, at what he experienced, the weight of the job that stifled the soft parts of him, and the weight of who he is now. He can’t look in the mirror anymore, stare back at the waning reflection, the reflection that is supposed to be him. But it’s not. God, it’s not.

He wants to be whole again, untainted, free from resent, the BAU’s fresh meat. Wide-eyed and credulous, trusting himself to always be clean. He wants to go back to the time when his life orbited around chess, halloween, that late hour of night when he could bury himself in academia. When everything felt untouchable and timeless.

Your concern is justifiable. The BAU’s concern is justifiable. And yet, it’s not enough, a string of ‘im here for you’ texts aren’t going to ease the weight of his trauma, nor will any form of pity.

When you show up at his apartment, it’s late. 3AM. There’s no legitimate excuse for your impromptu reason, no vindicable reason that could explain why you’re here. It’s sick to say you ‘had a feeling’, to reduce this to gut instincts, maybe you can get away with that on the field, but not here.

He gave you a key last year. It’s so morbid, to think back. To not look forward. When the door clicks open, there’s misplaced relief; at least he wasn’t cruel enough to change the locks. Even though he is admittedly cruel enough to refuse your calls.

“It’s me,” you say, deftly avoiding a stack of books. “Not an intruder. Well, technically, in a court of law, I could probably be tried as one.” you huff out a sigh, “But that’s unnecessary information. Hopefully.”

Spencer’s head has been pounding for hours, or maybe days, its hard to distinguish the weeks lately. Time is a construct that he can no longer keep accurate track of.

“An intruder wouldn’t announce themselves,” he retorts. Sat on the floor, with his back pressed against the couch, he feels heavy. Sinking. Like there is a part of him that is tethered to the ground, tugging and tugging him lower with every breath.

You remove your jacket, brown leather, scuffed with age and use, draping it over his couch.

He doesn’t look at you, nor the mess that has fermented his apartment. Files and novels and the collection of magazines (monthly subscriptions to Space News, Smithsonian, Science I am) are scattered everywhere, piled in mounds.

“I’m assuming you came to check up on me?” he continues, dropping his face to his knees. “You could’ve saved yourself the drive.”

“Fuck,” you mutter, stumbling into some books, and only because he would once keel over and die at their current mistreatment, you take additional care to place them on a… moderately uncluttered surface. “I’m hiring you a cleaner for christmas.”

“Merry Christmas to me,” he mumbles, raising his head to watch you now — tracking your movements carefully, observing the way you interact with his possessions. Your presence reminds him of before, late nights and movie marathons. His exasperation when you’d ask ‘Why are they fighting? It’s been 10 minutes…’ in relation to Star Wars. It was so domestic, warm. Something real he could keep.

Back when you’d stumble into his apartment at any time of night, and he’d take your abrupt appearance with a grain of salt. When you would waste hours speaking over the TV, providing lazy commentary, profiling characters and his ceaseless string of facts.

He wants to go back to those nights, take me back, he begs. Because he’s still not sure how to exist alongside you anymore.

“Good luck finding a cleaner who will step foot in here.” he continues.

You move to sit down beside him. One knee pulled to your chest, the other outstretched, just narrowly avoiding a chair that has taken a substantial fall.

You laugh. It feels empty. “I’d probably have to threaten them.“

“Threatening minimum wage workers? You’re a good addition to the FBI.”

“Shut up.” you retort, tilting your head back to stare at the ceiling. Everything is heavy tonight. It’s so late that the tangible feels intangible, shadows obscuring the area, diminishing the dim-light that filters through the window.

When you look at him again, he feels like breaking.

Because of course, of course, he’s hyper-aware of your stare. Has been since the moment you walked into his apartment. He’s not oblivious to your observation, scrutinisation, the way you look at him like he might break under your gaze. Or maybe he’s broken already, and you’re just here to mourn over the pieces of everything he once was.

He stares too; following the sharp outline of your profile, the way the shadows play over your features.

He thinks you still look terrifying.

Maybe that’s the worst part. He always loved you. It’s not like it was an immediate reckoning. Something blunt and fast, serrated like the shiv that penetrated his leg in prison. It was slow-burning, born from years of close contact.

It didn’t just transpire one day. You had to work for it, and he had to work harder to deny it.

There’s another attempt at conversation, on your part, and then silence, on his part. It’s stifling, uncharacteristic— no, not uncharacteristic. This is an element to you now. Awkward, strained pauses. Nothing to fill the space, nothing to ease the prevalent emptiness that centres around your dynamic.

It hurts. you’ll both take the pain. Bare it the way you were taught to.

“I came here for me,” your voice interrupts that uneasy silence, “I’m not trying to stage a bullshit intervention, or… or spend the next few hours following you around like a shadow, just in case you do something self-destructive.” You shift, turning your body to face him now. “This is for me. Okay?”

“For you?” He repeats, and the words sound bitter, cynical, tired. No fight left. “How selfish of me to think you were here for my benefit.”

It’s not like you can survive by being soft-hearted. Not in the BAU. You watched aspects of him die, or at least suffocate, year after year, case after case, when the weight of the job caught up to the fragility of his boyish demeanour. He used to sit, cross-legged on tables, rambling to you about books, constellations, the fact that the milky way will inevitably collide with the andromeda galaxy.

Now, he sits on the floor and hurts you.

“I’m always here for your benefit. It’s pretty pathetic. I can only call, or text, so many times before I get the silent message to just fuck off.”

Spencer doesn’t think he’ll be content until he digs his nails into everything he once loved, claw at the mess until it destroys. Destroys, the way he was destroyed. But he can’t find anger when it comes to you.

Parts of him, the old him, will always haunt, he supposes.

“I don’t think you’ve ever received the message to.. ‘fuck off’. Not from me. Just… maybe i’m not the person you knew before.” he looks down at his calloused hands. He hates meeting your gaze. Hates being the cause of your hurt. He feels like heavy baggage. “I— just, maybe, this version isn’t compatible with you anymore.”

I don’t want you to see me like this, he thinks.

“How can you say that?” you scoff. “How can you say that when you haven’t even tried?” The idea that the him now is so disparate to the him before?

Bull-shit.

“Okay Spencer,” you stand up, retrieving your jacket. “Why don’t you pick up the phone and actually, maybe, I don’t know? Call me? When you think we might be ‘compatible’ again? Because it seems like you’re too busy in your own self-deprecating mind-fuck to realise the person I loved is still there. That i’m still here. Even now.”

It hurts when you talk like that. Sharp, assertive, logical. And then he remembers that’s your profession, your job. Because you’re trained to be this way. Trained to break down and analyse, to pick apart the intricacies of the human mind.

He wishes he could be who you want him to be.

He wishes he could go back.

“So you don’t love me anymore?” he asks, standing up to watch you leave. He’s looking at you with these god-awful doe-eyes, like he might crumble under your response.

You could deal with the sharp-cutting words, the ugly parts he’s unsheathed in the aftermath of prison, if there was any indication he still cared. You were built to withstand affliction, it’s written into the BAU’s job description. But this? This feels like retribution.

He’s standing there, so close, so close that you could reach out and touch. Feel warm skin beneath your palms. Bridge the gap, extend an olive branch.

But there’s fear in being rejected. Because if he turns away, recoils from the contact, everything remaining will fall apart.

So, you lean against the closed door. You’re not sure why you came here now, it’s clear you miss something that you can never have back. “It’s hard to love someone who doesn’t even want me around.”

You say it, and he thinks maybe he hates you. He hates how well you can read him, how easily you can say exactly what he needs, when he isn’t ready to hear it.

But he’s just…. so angry, indignant about the hurt he experienced, the pain that was inflicted on him. He was soft and no one protected him, no one tried to preserve that virtue, to take measures, any form of initiative, to prevent him from growing thorns.

He’s dedicated his purpose to helping others. Sacrificing time he’ll never gain back. Putting his own life on hold. And yet, no one could do the same for him.

Instead they, you, the BAU, everyone inbetween, look at him like he’s a martyr. Just another failed creation. Something to sit in the ‘almosts,’ wasted potential, failed hope. He’s never understood Elle more than he does now.

He doesn’t know how to be. “You never loved me the way I love you.”

Faithful to a fault, his devotion has always been an open wound. Something messy and desperate, begging please, please notice me.

“You were always there,” he continues, “you were always present. You cared, you were empathetic, you checked in. But you never loved me the way i love you.”

He can’t hate someone for not loving him back. Sometimes, he wishes it was morally acceptable. To imagine your face as he pulls the trigger, to think of you during target practice. He’s wasted so many years, wishing you saw him as something more than a friend.

Oh, and you’ve been such a good friend. That’s what makes it sick. His best friend, the type that belongs fictionalised, too idealistic for real life. He finally had something good, and he tainted it with his own greedy heart.

You don’t understand. Until you do.

Sometimes its sick to think about him, Spencer Reid. The prodigy who inadvertently stumbled into the grasps of the BAU. Who immolated himself again and again for the ‘greater good’, for the sake of strangers, victims, people he’ll never know.

You watched self-sacrifice become self-annihilation.

Now, you watch the aftermath of it stand before you. “Who says I didn’t? Who says I don’t?” you respond exasperatedly; he’s always been so obstinate, so set in the notion that he will never obtain, keep anything good. The deprivation is sabotaging, lethal.

And how dare you? How dare you say this to him now? How dare you present a slither, just a minuscule indication that years of aching want might’ve been required. A year ago, he would’ve bled himself dry for this confession. Now, he can only mourn for his younger self. The one that didn’t realise he’d get a chance at everything. Because you, for better sake of the word, are everything.

He’s tired. He’s been tired since he was fifteen, no, younger… since he was ten, when he came to the bleak realisation that his whole life would be dedicated to academics, the pursuit of intellectual prowess. He was never a person to people. He was a brain, a textbook, a source of information. Some sort of tool to be wielded until use was no longer required.

And sure, all of it was fine, he could take take take it all, when he was younger. When he was naive, believing that he would only be valuable for his brain, that he could never have more, so he’d have to settle on scraps.

“Don’t— Don’t lie to me. Don’t spare my feelings, just.. because i’m like this. I can take care of myself.”

He wants you to be honest. He wants you to be blunt and harsh and cruel. He can take the hit, the rejection, if it’s the truth. He doesn’t want you to placate him. To make him feel better, to build more lies in order to soften the burn. He can take it. Just like he’s taken everything else over the years.

“No.” you respond.

“No?” he repeats, letting out a sharp breath. “No. Right— because that makes sense.”

“Spencer.” he looks drained when his features soften. “Shut the fuck up and come here.”

He complies, it’s actually embarrassing, obscene, downright pitying, how fast he complies. Just like he did, years prior. When your arms snake around his waist, when you’re touching him after months of abstinence, he melts.

Im sorry, Im sorry, he keeps repeating. Voice muffled, face buried deep into the crook of your neck. He’s not sure why he’s apologising. Maybe for the lack of communication, for being so distant, or maybe it’s just because he’s such a heavy weight to bare, and you’re still here. Still holding him up, taking the strain, pushing through the truculence. He just wants you to love him still.

Your hand cards through dishevelled hair, curls messy and unkept. “Stop apologising. I hate fighting with you.”

“You’ll stay right?” he asks when you draw back. He’s cupping your face now, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. It’s inherently desperate, the way he looks at you. Creased features, parted lips. “Just, like… forever?”

You want to laugh, “No big deal, huh?”

“Just a small insignificant question, really.” there’s a smile. Something contained, forced, an attempt at finding humour in the bleak.

“Okay.”

“Okay? That’s—“ he stutters, “That’s all you have to say? I ask you to stay forever, and you just say yes.”

“Does that come as a surprise?”

“Yes.”

When you kiss him, there’s ache. Because he’s so weak for you, ruined in every sense. It’s always been this way, ever since he met you. There can be no one else, when you’re around. There can be no one else, point blank period. Moving on has never been an option when you still breathe. His palm cups your jaw, tilting your lips to meet him again, and he wants.

There was always a principle. A set law to never show his want. But he does now.

The kiss deepens, you’ve both grown callouses from the job. He wonders how rough you might be, underneath the pretence of apathy. Stumbling together, his hand grips the back of your head as he tries to swallow your mouth. To find the root of himself, everything that has kept him alive. You, you have kept him alive.

“Don’t go.” he begs. He’s not afraid to plead for it. He’ll reduce himself to humiliation, if it’ll reward him another hour. “Please— please just stay.”

“I already said I would,” you tug him closer, closer in a way that has him sighing.

Later, when you’re guiding him to bed, he lets you undress him, because he doesn’t want to see the bruises. He doesn’t want to see the evidence of what he endured, the lasting remnants.

Instead, he watches you.

Your hands. Your face. The slope of your nose, the way your eyes glance at his body. He tries not to think about what you must see.

He focuses on how your fingertips feel tracing his hips, instead. Focuses on your words, “Do you really think I’d still be here if I didn’t love you? If I wasn’t in love with you…”

This is the confession he’s waited lifetimes for. Excuse his skepticism. “I don’t know. Maybe you just have a saviour complex.”

His body is marred. Mauve bruises lining tired skin. The colour darkens around the hollow bone of his hip. You’ve both endured injuries before, taken the worst of the job. He drags his fingers over your chest, lingering around section 8 of your upper anatomy, a green area to the traditional silhouette target. A few inches below, the bullet you took last year would’ve been fatal.

Spencer was the one to find you. In an abandoned warehouse, applying pressure to the wound. Ripped sleeves, cloth stained crimson, attempting to stem the blood flow.

You can still remember his panicked comments now. The way he checked for a collapsed lung, monitoring each breath, stammering on about tension pneumothorax and probabilities of life. Everything was based on chance, if the bullet avoided major organs. If the bullet curved strategic anatomical structures.

There’s something intimate to the knowledge, the romanticised ideal that you’ve seen the worst of each other.

“You love me,” he repeats, like he needs time to accept that it’s never been one sided. “Well, I love you more, so I win.”

When you kiss his brow, whisper that he’s an idiot, he exhales, pushing into the warmth. His hands are shaky, fumbling as they work to repay the favour, extracting clothes from your frame.

You watch as he drops to his knees, staring up at you with something akin to worship. He knows he will pay for this later. He pays for it all. “You’re beautiful,” he whispers, “Are you aware of how long i’ve waited for this?”

He unhooks your panties, coaxes your body to the edge of the bed. Legs draped over his shoulders, his breath is warm, slow, measured contact as he drags his swollen lips along your skin. A trail of kisses, travelling from hipbone to inner thigh.

“You’re the only thing I’ve thought about since I joined the BAU,” he sounds so pained. Like there’s anguish to his undying commitment. “Do you know how impressive that is? Your whole existence has the capacity to just… derail me.”

“Spencer,”

“Yeah,” he sighs, eyes falling shut, “Keep saying my name..”

There’s a litter of fading marks engrained into you now, from his mouth. When he reaches your clit, it takes all of his strained control to not lie you flat against the bed and bury his face.

Instead, there’s measured halos, he flattens his tongue, catching sensitive nerves with wet pressure, your hips push forward, breathless noises stifled by the bite to your bottom lip.

“Feels s’good,” you slur when his movements pick up, praise falling easy from your mouth. “You’re so good.”

He whimpers once, and then once more when your hand finds his head, sinking into tousled auburn hair. When your fingers reach the root and tug him closer until all he can breathe is you.

It’s a directing force, one that abolishes all thoughts beyond you.

He’s not sure he’ll ever recover from this. Because he can’t love easy. He’ll probably spend the next decade reciting each detail of this moment to himself.

You’re splayed out across dishevelled linen, bedding that holds traces of him. Cedar-wood, coffee, that soft press of freshly washed cotton. You pull harder, a litany of moans spilling from parted lips. A mess of sounds and stimulation, he pauses to drag his tongue across the length of your stained inner thigh before pliantly returning to your clit.

“Spence— fuck, just like that..” your back arches off the mattress, hips canting, bucking forward into his mouth to deepen the friction. It’s hedonistic, greedy, the way you push for more, even when he’s demeaned to his knees, giving you everything.

He groans when you take his middle and ring finger. When he can feel tight heat wrapped around his digits. Anatomy has always been his favourite subject, he’s mastered the art of locating erogenous zones. His fingers curve, and you respond irrationally.

Your thighs are gripping his head now, ensuring he remains locked, and Spencer’s not sure suffocation has ever sounded so good. Because his scalp aches from your sharp hands, and you’re pulling hard enough to warrant tears. He whines, in response, stuttering out fractured oh’s with every lap of his tongue.

“Gonna…” you warn, and he pushes your hips down into the mattress and fucks you through the orgasm. The pulse of your clit, drawn into his mouth, and the clench of muscle around his fingers as you burn with pleasure. Synapses in overdrive, stars staining beneath your closed eyes.

In the aftermath, he takes his time to clean up his own mess. To catch his breath, to not to think about his own arousal. How untouched he is, after all this time.

Climbing the length of your body, he presses kisses to your torso, over every part of you that he hasn’t grazed before.

He stops his ascent at the base of your neck, a soft kiss between your breasts and another on each of your nipples.

“I think I win,” he mutters. “Again.”

Simple words. He’s masochistic, desperate to be put back in his place. You’ve never had an issue with that.

You laugh, albeit breathlessly. “Cute that you assume I would ever let you win.”

He moans, fracturing in two, as your hand drags down his skin. He feels like he’s been hard for centuries. Never finding release. His body doesn’t obey, if it’s not you. When your thumb rolls over his tip, collecting pre-cum, he keens. Lying face to face, his forehead presses to your own, meeting your stare with this helpless, flushed look of need.

He’s too touch-starved to be embarrassed. “Please,”

“Shh,” you muffle his begs, smearing his bottom lip with his own pre-cum before pushing the digit into his mouth. “I don’t think you want to win.” he won’t protest truth, “I think you’re trying to bait me into proving you wrong.” the way he squirms, whimpers, breathless to the pleasure. “Such a whore…”

He can’t find fault in that. “Only for you,” he mutters, “Exclusively for you.”

He pushes forward, catching your lips with his own. It’s a messy kiss. Something that resembles younger him. It’s not like he’s garnered excessive experience since then. Sex, bodies, contact has never been his field of expertise.

It doesn’t help that he’s wasted half of his life aching for you.

“Prove me wrong,” he mutters against your mouth, “All the time. Every single day.”

The way your hand wraps around his cock, the long strokes that graze a need he’s never quite reached himself,.. it’s all torturous. There’s nothing soft in his response, because he bucks forward, into the warmth of your hold, whining like he belongs in porn.

“No, no.. please..” he pleads when you draw back. Though any further protests, soft breathless attempts at coercion, are cut short when you straddle his waist. Legs draped, guiding his tip between folds to graze your clit.

Being corrupted, taken, isn’t something he felt he would experience at his age. But, here he is… 

“Slow,” you command, taking him by the inch. It’s a gradual descend, stretching to accommodate his length.

By the time he’s bottomed out, he looks gone. Mouth half-parted, hollow-lidded eyes, debauched expression as he struggles to breathe. “Slow,” he repeats, as if that word has any good over him now. Everything is static beyond his hips, pushing forward to meet the drag of your own.

He feels raw, uncut, exposed in new ways. Ways that only you can coax out of him.

“You feel… so good,” he mutters, breathless, between a jumble of oh oh oh’s. You rock against him, carving pleasure, and it’s so unfair. Because he’s not supposed to be ruined already.

He can only handle the sight of you, draped over him for so long; his hands snake around your waist, using the hold to drag you both up. Leant against the bed frame. A momentary lapse in movement. “Hi.” he says, coy. “Hi, you’re so beautiful..” his lips meet your neck.

There are parts of you that he believed he would never uncover.

You scoff, “You’re going soft on me here.”

“Are you sure? Because from where i’m sat, I’d beg to differ—“ his words are destroyed by the force of your movements.

He feels warm, in ways that are so intrinsic that the feeling could border on religious. Your hips sink against his, and the contact is enough to drive him mad. His hands are tangled in hair, guiding you closer, kissing you again, and again until you’re just breathing into each others mouth.

“I’m always soft for you,” he promises between ragged breaths. When you’re close, he still feels he retains a fracture of what he once was.

“Good,” you grab a fistful of hair, watch as he breaks.

“Oh,” he moans, ripping into his own lip. “Oh— please..” To have you on his lap, wrapped around him, gasping into his collar. Your body is the culmination of every fantasy — the clandestine ones he was content to keep buried indefinitely.

You watch as he cups your face, as he forces your eyes to meet his in the diluted light. ‘Please,’ he says, shameless to the words, meeting your stare head-on. ‘Please please please.’

He begs, straight to your face. “Just have me. I want it so bad…”

He feels possessed. Leashed, built for you alone.

“Yeah? Do you want me to own you?” your words are a dragged whisper against his ear, he thinks he might come from just this. “To know that you’re mine alone?”

“Mhm—“ he breathes out, “Yes, fuck— please.”

You wrap your hand around his neck, pressing your thumb to his throat. He wears your grip like a necklace. “Just like that, huh?” his hips twitch, pushing up to bury his cock deeper into you.

You hold. For a few moments, watching as he struggles against the restriction to his airflow. He’s flushed, whining out “Just like that…” when you release.

“Take it, Spencer.” you retort, watching as he groans, head spilling back against the wall, severing the eye contact. “If you’re going to be good for me, take it.”

“Trying— ‘m trying,” he sobs. The words are fragmented, they get caught in a knot of moans and half-whimpers.

His hands, his deft, long fingers, tremble as they drag across your ribs, as they palm your breasts before hooking around your waist to deepen each push of movement.

There’s a reminder, burning through the back of his mind. Because touch has always entailed pain. Bruises, scarring, a reminder that some people are inherently violent, and no matter how soft you are, you can be ripped apart…

He’s not sure if he’s the victim or the antagoniser. He thinks maybe both.

…but when your fingers lace with his own, he loses himself.

His head falls to your shoulder. “Please, im trying..” to take it, to accept the pleasure, to acknowledge that you’re permanent. Something irreversible, a black hole he’ll bet his life on.

“I know, I know. So good, Spence. Just like that.”

He’s never needed praise more than he does now.

“There we go.., i’ve got you.”

“I’m yours,” he sobs, “You know i’m yours. Only ever been yours.”

When he comes, it’s messy. Ruptured whimpers and the arch of his back; he’s faintly aware of you clenching around him, reaching your own orgasm, but everything feels, and it’s so much. A tangle of stimuli that his tired body has grown used to begging for. He spills deep inside of you, marking himself in crevices.

“Why did we waste so much time?” he asks after. When you’re both flushed, lying naked against his mattress. “You could’ve had me when I was better. You could’ve had that version of—“

“Spencer,” you cut off. “I don’t care. There isn’t ‘versions of you,’ that’s dumb.” he wants to laugh at your bluntness. “There’s just.. you. You before prison. And you after. They’re both the same, you haven’t lost yourself. You’re just… stronger now.”

“I don’t want to be stronger.” he says, leaning forward to kiss you. “Teach me how to be weak again.”

You don’t tell him there’s no going back. That he’ll never retain the innocence of what once was. Instead, you just sigh, hand curved around his jaw as you reciprocate the contact. “Okay.”

“Promise?”

“Yeah,” you respond, “I promise.”

[beomiracles]

reader is a coroner / pathologist and taehyun or yeonjun is a dead body they have autopsy but they come back alive and they fuck idk

ouuu this one's fun hehehe

tw, does this count as necrophilia? I mean he comes back to life but he's physically a corpse still, hm. penetrative sex, masturbation, reader thinks she's hallucinating (which quite frankly she might be)

working late hours, deep into the night; enveloped in complete and utter silence as you embalm the dead. ― lack of sleep was not uncommon, and it was not the first time you'd caught a glimpse of something through the corner of your eye.

tonight was a slow night, the only thing keeping you at ease being the knowledge that this was the last body of the night. he was young, probably his early twenties. your fingers brush over his hard and toned chest as you prepare to make an incison.

your gaze flickers to his his unmoving face, twisting it to the side as you study his sharp jaw, his long and dark lashes resting by the top of his cheeks. ― a shame, he was very handsome. you glance toward the identification band around his ankle. peering down at it as you read his name; Kang Taehyun.

turning around to fetch a scalpel, your attention diverts from the corpse momentarily. but when you spin back, your heart drops to the same level as his. ― for what you find is not a lifeless body, but what must've been a figment of your wildest imagination.

he's staring right back at you, dulled and bleak eyes, zeroed down on you solely. you think you might be seeing things, that this time your sleepless hallucinations ad finally caught up to you. but it only gets worse when he suddenly props himself up on his elbows, his brows furrowing as he studies your unmoving frame.

the corpse, no, the man chuckles, a low and breathy laugh, rumbling deep within his chest. then he moves to fully sit up, his muscles flexing as he pushes himself off the stretcher. ― "you're pretty", he exhales, his voice raspy.

the scalpel has fallen from your grasp, hitting the floor with a screeching sound, echoing off the mortuary walls. ― this wasn't happening, you had drank one coffee too little and now you were paying the consequences.

his fingers are icy cold as they grab a firm hold of your wrist, yanking you forward. you barely register the hard crash against his firm and naked chest. the towel that previously covered him had fell to the floor and you didn't dare look down as you swallowed a gulp.

imagination surely was good. there was no way he was actually alive, and there was no way you were actually straddling his lap now. perhaps you had dozed off by the supply table. then this dream was bound to be a good one..

perhaps you could just play along with whatever fabricated images your mind conjured, even if they felt scarily real.

the corpse man, you remind yourself, looks to you with dark and gleaming eyes. a smug smirk stretches across his pale lips and before you know it, he's leaned in to kiss you. his body is freezing against your flaming hot one, but you don't pull back.

in fact, you find your hand mindlessly wander between your bodies, slipping past your white robe and inside your pants. ― the low moan you emit as your fingers dip within the fabric of your panties echoes off the sterile walls.

this was wrong. yet you can't seem to stop. your other hand grips onto his shoulder, nails digging into his bare skin, easily bruising the pale hues. ― you feel him smirk into the kiss, his hard cock nudging against your thigh as you helplessly grind onto your hand.

"more", your soft whine takes you by surprise, the demanding rolling off your tongue without as much as a second thought. ― he hums, cold hands gripping at your waist as he urges you closer. you oblige by hastily unbuttoning your robe, letting it fall from your body and pool on the cold and hard stone floor.

his fingers twist the zipper of your pants, impatiently tugging them down as your bare skin is exposed to the cool air. ― "warm", he hums when he aligns his cold but hard cock against your soaked cunt. you whimper as you tremble above him, hastily nodding as you beg for him to do more.

the man just flashes you the same smirk he had been since he awakened, burying his lifeless self inside of you with one quick thrust.

[loolilyumm]

I really like your interpretation of 3! Would be super excited to hear more about your 8 (or any other characters) :D

YAY THANKS FOR THE ASK!!! And I am so sorry about the late reply. I literally forgot I had this drafted 😭 I actually already rambled on about 8 a couple of posts ago - If you scroll down (or look for the agent 8 tag on my acc) you’ll find it! I think so much about her I hope you enjoy…!!!!!!! I’m so happy you like my little guys :))))))

AHEM Since you said..any other characters….I DO HAVE OTHER CHARACTERS!!!!! NOW I AM GOING TO YAP ABOUT MY AGENT 4!!!

THIS IS ELLIS! I actually love drawing him so much. I will admit that I have not thought too much about his backstory BUUTTT he makes up for it in personality!

Ellis was about 16 during splatoon 1, and he moved to the city for college when he was 18. Shortly after, he was recruited to the NSS by Marie. As of splatoon 3, he is 21 years old! He mains the Slosher Deco.

He is a freakishly tall lanky dude. He’s very book smart but acts goofy and stupid and snarky and lacks common sense. He’s a bit of a flirt and Marie acts like she can’t stand him. They tease each other a lot but they genuinely care for each other a LOT! But they’d never admit it!! Ew gross!!

He feels like a bit of a disappointment to his parents because he was supposed to be going to this fancy college in the city, but ended up leaving it and becoming an agent full time. PLUS he can’t tell them that he’s a secret agent saving the world, so they just think he works at a gas station or something 😭

Hero mode was a totally new experience for him. Marie never doubted him though. Now he’s an extremely talented agent. He’s really good at coming up with strategies and is extremely intelligent on the battlefield. He’s just so goofy that everyone forgets he’s actually smart.

In the beginning, he didn’t know who the squid sisters were at ALL because he basically lived under a rock until moving, and he was like, “pff, you can’t be that big of a deal.” LMAO.

He and Marie quickly became best frenemies. They often teased each other and had a lot of good banter and really good chemistry. Ellis developed a little crush on her but never thought it would be reciprocated!

One night, Ellis was injured on a mission. He is very deliberate about his missions, always having a plan - so he rarely gets injured.

When he came back, he saw a side of Marie that he’d never seen before. She was worried for him, helping him with his injury. The two of them realized that this was serious work. Ellis could have died. It also brought Marie to a realization. She really, really cared about agent 4. There was maybe a little crush starting to form…!!!

But the two of them STILL haven’t done anything about it. It’s been 3 YEARS. They are the definition of slow burn. Just because neither of them wants to admit that they like the other.

Near the end of splatoon 2 hero mode, Ellis became an agent full time and dedicated all his time to finding Callie. And they did!!!!! It was super awesome yay!!!!!

Currently, the NSS is bigger than ever before and they even made agent 3 the captain.

Ellis is still a goofball and loves to be silly with Callie and agent 8 (Olive.) Those two are like his sisters. The New agent 3 (Margot) is a little off putting but that doesn’t bother Ellis at all. Every once in a while, he works a salmon run shift with her, and it’s crazy how good she is.

Ellis understands that 3 and 8 went through a lot down in the metro and wants to do anything he can to help them free the sanitized octolings. (This is what led to him working on the memverse with Marina!) Sometimes the agents go down to the empty remains of Kamabo to see if they can find anyone. They are usually unsuccessful but it seems to clear 8’s conscience.

I still don’t really understand side order. Um. I kind of didn’t like how it was all virtual 😭 maybe I will make it a little different just for the sake of story. Idk yet. But yea!

That’s all I have on Ellis, he’s my boy! I think he’s my favorite to draw, and his design has been the only one not to undergo any change.

And that concludes my agent yap sessions! If you guys want to know anything about them (or send them asks or something) my askbox is always open! I love answering questions :) ((even if I am a little slow ahhhh sorry!!))

But yeah!! I’ll make official character sheets and stuff sometime soon :D thanks so much for sticking around if you made it this far!! 🫶🫶

[enjoythesilentworld]

2024 fandom review!

thank u for the tag @willesredlights sorry it took me literally ages to get to it

lets pretend we're not almost two weeks into the new year ok? and what a year it has been. holy shit.

~ Fics written ~

I'll be honest I did go a little batshit crazy this past year. 314k words across 19 published works, plus god knows how much more unpublished on tumblr. listen, I was deep in the ??? phase of my master's (still am, lets be honest) and desperately looking for a new creative outlet. I've always been a writer, always loved dreaming up stories, but I have never quite connected to a universe as much as I have to this one. I resonate with so many of the characters, and i just feel like there is so much room to play and explore. i will continue to add in old people OCs to my fics wherever and whenever i get the chance.

First fic: for the tree's sake (M, 48k) aka tree boys inspired by the trip that eventually led to my discover of young royals in late '23, and my darling baby. yes, that airplane ride that seems weird and random is based on truth!

Fav fic: just if for a minute (T, 53k) aka fake married idiots i greatly enjoyed making Wille suffer for just under 53k. that confrontation scene took days off my life and yet i am so proud of how it turned out.

Honorary mention to Growing towards the light, which was a dream to work on and create with my dear sweet friend Lia. there is one braincell between the two of us and it's full of nature facts and dick jokes. and beautiful stories about getting lost in the wilderness and finding yourself along the way. and tent-dick jokes.

Last fic: Wille på Hyllan (T, 13k) aka christmas shenanigans! another collab with my dearest friends which was hilarious to write and so silly and imo an example of one of the greatest perks of being in a fandom: meeting some of the most incredible people ever. also, dick-lights and dick-tomtar and dick-cookies. what more could you want?

~ Fics Read ~

if i tried to go through my history and tell you how many fics i read this year i would never make this post. i'd be here counting and trying to copy links forever. i read hundreds of fics. i enjoyed all of them, thoroughly. i got a lot better at leaving comments (sometimes). i was consistently and repeatedly blown away by the genius brains we have in this little Swedish corner of the internet.

if you are a writer i love you and i give u a kiss on the forehead.

also: i recently made a lil rec list here.

~ Other Stuff? ~

i had two big, busy months this year. three? : May, Wille's month & July, Simon's month i cannot believe i wrote 62 stories in 62 different universes (give or take a few). that's kind of stupid! but oh my god it was so fun!! some of my favs: -> Food, where Wille and Simon meet and embark on a mistakenly booked couples food tour in Barcelona -> Fashion/Style, aka the Met Gala AU aka the thing that turned into something so much bigger than i could have ever imagined. literally i thought people were gonna hate it. so, thank u for not hating it. and for letting it become 15k+ of pwp. -> Secret, friends to lovers RAHHHHHH -> Home (Improvement), aka grumpy home renovator Simon idk i just feel like this should become a full-blown fic one day

and oh boy who can forget about Kinktober from wax kinks in 17th century Italy to desperate love confession in the middle of wildfires to... whatever that was in the confessional (idk, that's between them and God).

2024...

I did some painting: x x I wrote some real weird lil ficlets: x x and I met dozens of incredible people. thank u for liking my stupid rambling posts from 3am and my silly little ficlets and for reading my stories and telling me about your stories and saving me from the Frankfurt airport and yelling with me about stuff thats definitely not in the Bible and sharing your time and space and art and care.

@bigalockwood @hergrandplan @gulliblelemon @saynomorefic @pagegirlintraining @skibasyndrome @sobadbad @impossibleknots @piebingo @theaviatorthatcouldnotfly @misfithive @sillylittleflower @zee-has-commitment-issues @purplehoodiesandclementines @justfriendsbestthings

giving u a big hug. and! this is by no means an exhaustive list. if ur reading this we are bffs. send me a message ok? ok. y'all keep me sane and happy and i am so grateful for you! live love wilmon

[autistichalsin]

hi I just came across your proship/profiction bulletpoint list and I just wanted to say thank you for writing it. I'm actually crying over how validating it is. I just feel like I've seen so much hate and toxicity lately, that the things I write make me a bad person; and I know they don't bc it's fiction, but hearing it from other people just makes me feel so much better about it, y'know? fandom used to be such a safe space for me (esp when I was younger and dealing with a lot of shitty friends) but I've resorted to putting some of my more recent fics under anon bc I don't feel safe in the same way anymore, I can never tell where I'm welcome or where I'm not. so I'm glad to know there's still safe people out there and again, thank you for making my day better.

Hey anon! I'm so sorry you've been made to feel so guilty for your tastes in fiction. I've had similar things said/done to me by anti-profic people. Fandom used to be a safe place for exploration of all kinds of scenarios, and while antis had been getting steadily worse throughout the 2010s, I noticed it get exponentially worse during COVID/quarantine, when a bunch of new people came into fandom with an approach of not being fans first and foremost, but critics and discoursers first and foremost- their fandom wasn't Pokemon or Genshin or whatever, even if ostensibly it was, but rather it was criticizing everything, media, other fans, whatever, for deviating from their preferences in any way.

There are communities where you belong. IDK what your main fandom is, but I promise you there are other likeminded people in it, and there are still fandoms where proshippers outweigh antis, even if the antis are louder.

i just want to repeat this: nothing that happens in your imagination will ever make you a bad person. The idea of thoughtcrimes is an extension of Catholic reasoning to make everyone feel they're inherently bad, wrong, because no one has good thoughts all the time.

It's okay to imagine 'bad' things. It's okay to like stories about bad things happening. Even if the things you're imagining are of a sexual nature. Actions are what make someone a good or bad person, not thoughts, not the words on a page they read or write. And don't let any moral puritan convince you otherwise. Thoughtcrimes are not real.