#but my god am i awkward with strangers | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

reidmarieprentiss · 3 months ago

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Strawberry Lemonade

Summary: Spencer and you have a summer fling before you start your masters in theater, but you both fall in love. A chance encounter years later will give you the chance to reconnect.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Broadway fem!reader

Category: fluff

Warnings/Includes: summer love, suggestive content (16+), happy ending

Word count: 6.7k

a/n: this is cuteee i imagine season 1 spencer at the beginning and season 7 spencer at the end but its up to you hehe

main masterlist

Six years ago…

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” you heard the voice before you felt the cold liquid soaking through your shirt, chilling your skin. The sensation was sudden and startling, making you gasp and jump back instinctively.

“Ah!” you exclaimed, eyes wide as you looked down at the spreading stain on your clothes. It was a shock, but more amusing than upsetting.

“I—I didn’t see you, I am so, so sorry. Um, let me get you a napkin,” the man rushed out, his voice laced with genuine panic as he scrambled to make amends.

You finally looked up at him, and despite the situation, a smile tugged at your lips. “Whoa, wait, it’s okay!” you reassured him, waving your hands to calm him down. “What did you spill on me?” you asked, your tone light and humorous as you took in his flushed, slightly disheveled appearance.

“Strawberry lemonade…” he admitted, wincing as if expecting you to be upset.

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Well, I might be sticky, but at least I’ll smell good!” The sound of your laughter seemed to ease his anxiety, and for a moment, he looked relieved, albeit still a bit embarrassed.

“I’m really sorry again,” he said, his tone sheepish as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I was so focused I just wasn’t paying attention to where I was walking.”

“Seriously, it’s okay!” you assured him, still smiling. “I can just head home and change. I didn’t have any big plans today anyway.”

“Still, it’s inconvenient,” he insisted, clearly feeling guilty.

“Oh well, you’re just keeping my day interesting. Do you want to do that all summer long?” you joked, the lighthearted comment slipping out before you could stop yourself.

“Huh?” He blinked, momentarily confused by your question.

You chuckled, shaking your head at your own boldness. “I’m watching my parents’ house for the summer. Not sure what I’m going to do… I probably shouldn’t have told you that, random male stranger.”

His expression shifted to one of concern. “Uh, no, you should not tell people that. But, I am in the FBI, actually. I catch the people you shouldn’t tell that you’re watching your parents’ house.”

Your eyes widened in surprise, curiosity and skepticism bubbling up inside you. “Wow! That’s cool, and I totally don’t believe you at all,” you laughed again, the sound warm and infectious. You noticed how his eyes seemed to light up at the sound of your laughter.

He fumbled for a moment, clearly eager to prove himself. After a brief struggle, he managed to retrieve his badge from his pocket. “Here,” he said, holding it out for you to see, the credentials gleaming under the light.

You leaned in slightly to inspect it, your eyes narrowing playfully. “Alright, I believe you, Spencer Reid,” you said, pronouncing his name with a teasing lilt.

The blush that spread across his cheeks was instant and endearing. “Thanks, um…” he trailed off, realizing he didn’t know your name.

“Y/N L/N,” you said, extending your hand toward him, your smile never wavering.

He glanced at your hand, then back up at you, a hint of nervousness still lingering in his eyes. “It’s actually safer for us to kiss with all of the germs that are passed through hands touching,” he said, the words tumbling out before he could stop them.

You raised an eyebrow, amused by his sudden awkwardness. “Well, if you buy me a drink instead of spilling one on me, I’ll give you that kiss,” you teased, your voice carrying a playful challenge.

Spencer’s eyes widened, his blush deepening as he realized you were serious. For a moment, he was speechless, but then a shy smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “Deal,” he said softly, his heart racing as he met your gaze.

—

You had gotten Spencer Reid’s number after your first encounter, agreeing to find a time to get that drink he owed you. The anticipation of seeing him again had you smiling as you got ready for your casual meetup. You wanted to see if he was just as endearing without the strawberry lemonade incident.

As you approached the café, you spotted Spencer sitting at a small table outside. His posture was slightly tense, his hands wrapped around a coffee cup as he scanned the surroundings nervously. When he saw you approaching, though, his face lit up with a shy but genuine smile, one that instantly warmed your heart.

“Spencer!” you called out, waving as you neared the table.

“Hi, Y/N,” he responded, his voice soft but filled with warmth.

When you reached the table, you noticed two drinks already waiting. You raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. “Did you order for me?” you asked, a hint of amusement in your tone.

Spencer nodded, looking bashful as he explained, “I did. You mentioned that you liked chai lattes, so I got you one.”

Your heart fluttered at his thoughtfulness, and you couldn’t help but smile even wider. “You are the sweetest! Thank you!” You took a seat across from him, picking up the warm cup and taking a sip. The spiced, creamy flavor was perfect, and you let out an appreciative hum. “It’s delicious, and look at that! It made it into my mouth and not on my clothes,” you teased, your eyes twinkling with humor.

Spencer chuckled, the tension easing from his shoulders. “Yeah, I promise not to ruin your clothes this time,” he said, the corners of his mouth quirking up in a small smile.

You leaned in slightly, a mischievous glint in your eye. “What about next time?”

Spencer choked on his drink, caught off guard by your playful question. You couldn’t help but laugh at his reaction, finding his awkwardness endearing. Once he recovered, he grinned sheepishly, his cheeks tinged with pink. “I’ll work on my coordination before then,” he replied, his voice laced with embarrassment and amusement.

You giggled, shaking your head. “I’m just messing with you, Spencer. But I’m glad you’re thinking ahead.”

He relaxed even more, clearly enjoying your company as much as you were enjoying his. The conversation flowed easily between you two, filled with light banter, shared stories, and plenty of laughter. It was clear that this was just the beginning of something special—something that neither of you could have predicted from a simple spilled drink.

—

As the summer days drifted by, Spencer had become a regular fixture in your life. He was your constant companion, always ready for an adventure whenever his demanding job allowed. Whether it was movie nights on the couch, intense games of chess in the park, or wandering through the quiet halls of a museum, every moment with him was something you cherished. But today, you were ready to take things to the next level, to let him know just how much you enjoyed his company in a way that left little room for misinterpretation.

Spencer was coming over again, this time for a swim in the lake behind your parents’ house. He’d been over many times before, but today was different. Today, you were determined to make your intentions clear.

The sound of his car pulling up the driveway sent a thrill of anticipation through you. You smoothed down your cover-up and opened the door just as he was about to knock. “Hey, babe,” you greeted him with a playful grin, the casual endearment slipping from your lips effortlessly.

Spencer’s cheeks immediately flushed a light shade of pink, clearly caught off guard. He wasn’t used to pet names, especially not from someone like you—someone who had become increasingly important to him over these past few months. “Hi, Y/N,” he managed to reply, his voice soft and a little unsure.

“Are you ready to swim?” you asked, your eyes twinkling with mischief as you leaned against the doorframe.

“Mhm,” he nodded, lifting the small bag he brought with him. “I brought my swimsuit.”

“Awe, damn,” you pouted dramatically, teasing him with a sparkle in your eye. “I thought we were going skinny dipping.”

Spencer’s eyes widened, and he stammered, “Y/N!”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his reaction, biting your lip to suppress a grin. “I’m joking! Maybe…” you added with a wink before turning to lead him inside. You could feel his eyes on you, nervousness and curiosity radiating from him.

Once he changed, you led Spencer out to the dock that stretched over the lake. The sun was warm, the water inviting, and the setting was perfect. Spencer was busy setting up the beach chairs, focused on getting everything just right, when you called out to him.

“Hey, Spencer, can you help me out?” Your voice was light, almost innocent.

He turned to see what you needed, and his eyes nearly popped out of his head when he caught sight of you. There you stood, your cover-up discarded to reveal a tiny swimsuit that left very little to the imagination. The way the fabric clung to your curves, barely covering what it needed to, had Spencer’s mind spinning. He was completely unprepared for this.

“Su–sure,” he stammered, struggling to keep his gaze respectful even as his face turned a deep shade of crimson.

You smiled at his reaction, a mixture of amusement and satisfaction. You had his attention now, that much was clear. “Thanks,” you said, moving closer to him, letting your arm brush against his as you reached for the sunscreen. “Would you mind helping me with my back?”

Spencer swallowed hard, his brain short-circuiting as he nodded. “Of course,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

As he carefully applied the sunscreen, his fingers trembling slightly as they skimmed over your skin, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself.

“Mmm, your hands are so warm, Spencer. This feels nice,” you murmured, letting your eyes flutter closed as his hands worked gently across your back. You could feel the heat radiating from his palms, soothing against your skin.

Spencer made a small, high-pitched sound that was almost a squeak, clearly caught off guard by your comment. “I’m—uh, I’m glad,” he stammered, his voice cracking slightly.

As his hands reached your shoulders, you rolled them, leaning back into his touch, allowing yourself to let out a soft, almost involuntary, sound of pleasure. It was subtle, but you knew it would have an effect on him. “Can you get my lower back too, please?” you asked, your voice laced with just enough sweetness to make him melt.

“Ok—okay,” Spencer managed to say, his breath hitching as he moved his hands lower. When his fingers finally reached your lower back, you couldn’t resist arching it just a bit, causing your hips to shift subtly, drawing his attention further down.

“Thanks, Spencer,” you said, turning your head slightly to glance back at him with a mischievous smile. “You’re good with your hands.”

Spencer’s face was bright red by now, and he cleared his throat, quickly pulling his hands away as if they’d been burned. “Um, you’re all done! Let’s, uh, let’s get in the water!” he blurted out, almost too fast for the words to be coherent.

You couldn’t help but laugh, enjoying the effect you had on him. “Don’t you need sunscreen?” you asked, raising an eyebrow as you watched him turn his back to you, clearly flustered.

“Nope!” he shouted, his voice a bit higher than usual, before making a beeline for the edge of the dock. Without a second thought, he dove into the lake, the cold water a welcome relief from the heat you’d stirred up inside him.

You watched, amused, as Spencer resurfaced, his hair plastered to his forehead as he pushed it back with one hand. He looked at you with wide eyes, a mixture of embarrassment and something else you couldn’t quite place. You knew he was trying to compose himself, but you could tell you’d rattled him in the best way possible.

“Water’s great!” he called out, trying to sound casual, though his voice still carried a note of nervousness. “You should join me.”

You smirked, taking your time as you walked to the edge of the dock. “Oh, I plan to,” you said, your tone playful as you prepared to jump in after him, the summer day suddenly feeling a whole lot warmer.

You and Spencer splashed around in the cool water, laughing and enjoying the kind of carefree fun that usually only comes with childhood. The day was perfect, the sun shining down, the water glistening, and you couldn’t help but feel a warmth growing in your chest every time you looked at him. There was something so endearing about Spencer, especially now with his big, round eyes wide with wonder, his wet hair sticking to his forehead in messy strands. He was so pretty.

“Y/N?” Spencer called out suddenly, a hint of concern in his voice as he glanced around, squinting since he had left his glasses on the dock. You had slipped beneath the surface, and he couldn’t see where you had gone.

“Ahh!” he yelped when he felt hands on his waist, the surprise making him jump. But before he could fully process what was happening, you popped up right in front of him, grinning as you wiped the water and hair from your face.

“Hi,” you whispered softly, the playfulness in your eyes unmistakable.

“You scared me,” he admitted, still catching his breath from the sudden startle.

“Sorry, Spence,” you replied, your voice gentle, though there was a lingering note of amusement.

“It’s okay,” he said, his voice softer now as he looked at you, his nerves easing but still very much present.

Without a word, you wrapped your arms around his neck, drawing closer. He stiffened slightly, but didn’t pull away. Feeling bold, you decided to make your next move, wrapping your legs around his torso as well, anchoring yourself to him in the water. His hands instinctively moved to support you, his fingers brushing your waist as he tried to steady himself.

“You’re like a koala,” Spencer observed, his voice a bit breathless, the situation clearly getting to him.

“Mmm, do koalas like wet nerds?” you teased, your lips just inches from his, your breath warm against his damp skin.

“What—” he began, but before he could finish, you leaned in and pressed your lips to his, your heart racing as you made your intentions clear.

For a moment, Spencer froze, clearly caught off guard by the suddenness of your kiss. Panic started to bubble up inside you, and you quickly pulled back, searching his face for any sign that you’d made a mistake. “I’m sorry, was that not okay?” you asked, your voice tinged with worry as you began to second-guess yourself.

But before you could spiral too far, Spencer’s hand cupped your face, his touch gentle but firm. He didn’t say a word, just pulled you back toward him, his other hand sliding down to grip your hips, pulling you flush against him as he kissed you back. This time, there was no hesitation, no uncertainty—just the warmth of his lips on yours, the cool water lapping around you, and the undeniable chemistry that had been building between you all summer.

The kiss deepened, his lips moving against yours with a passion that surprised you, his usual shyness nowhere to be found. You melted into him, feeling the last of your doubts wash away as you wrapped yourself even tighter around him, the world fading until it was just you and Spencer, lost in the moment, lost in each other.

—

The day at the lake marked the beginning of your official relationship with Spencer, and from then on, your summer together blossomed into the kind of romance you’d always dreamed of. There were countless moments that felt like they were straight out of a movie—bouquets of flowers delivered unexpectedly, rosy cheeks from laughter, bike rides on cobblestone streets, and endless time spent in each other’s company. Spencer was always so thoughtful, his gestures sweet and genuine, and you couldn’t help but fall deeper for him with every passing day.

But as the summer days dwindled, so did the time you had left before returning to school. One afternoon, Spencer walked into the living room of your parents’ house, his face bright with excitement. “Hey, love,” he said, his voice warm and affectionate as he approached you.

“Hmm?” you responded, glancing up from your computer where you were half-listening while reviewing your reading list for the fall term at Hunter College.

“There’s this annual FBI gala in September,” Spencer began, leaning down to place a tender kiss on the top of your head. “I was wondering if you’d like to be my date.”

You nodded absentmindedly, still focused on your work. “Uh, sure, babe. Sounds fun!”

Spencer smiled, pleased by your agreement. “Amazing, it’s the last Saturday of September.”

It wasn’t until he mentioned the date that realization hit you, and your heart sank. “Oh no… I’ll be back at school by then.”

“What?” Spencer’s smile faltered, confusion and disappointment flickering across his face as he looked at you.

“Well, I’m going back to school at the beginning of September… I’m only here for the summer, I told you that, baby.”

“I know you did,” Spencer sighed, the disappointment settling in as he plopped down on the couch. “I guess I didn’t think about how soon you were going back.”

Seeing him so crestfallen made your heart ache. You quickly set your computer aside and moved to climb into his lap, wrapping your arms around him. Spencer’s hands instinctively found your waist, holding you close as you nestled against him. “I’m sorry, Spence,” you said softly, brushing your fingers through his hair. “Maybe I can still come? If I’m not too busy with work and school?”

“Yeah,” he replied, though the frown on his face made it clear he wasn’t convinced. He avoided your gaze, his eyes focused on some distant point.

“Hey,” you whispered, tilting his chin up so he had no choice but to look at you. “We still have all of August, you still have me all to yourself for a whole month.”

“That’s true,” he murmured, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

You leaned in closer, your lips brushing his as you spoke. “Can you think of anything you want to do with me while I’m all yours?” you asked, your voice playful, your eyes sparkling with mischief as you smirked at him.

Spencer’s smile grew a little wider, and he let out a soft chuckle. “I can think of a few things,” he said, his tone teasing but his gaze affectionate. “But we might need more than a month.”

“Well then, you better start planning,” you whispered against his lips, before closing the small distance between you in a tender kiss, hoping to chase away the cloud of impending separation with the warmth of your affection.

—

“I can’t believe you leave next week,” Spencer mumbled into your stomach, his voice muffled as he pressed his face into your skin, seeking comfort in the warmth of your body.

Spencer’s words hung in the air, the weight of them settling deep in your chest. You’d known this moment would come, the one where the reality of your impending departure would hit both of you with full force. But hearing him say it, feeling the emotion behind his words, made it all the more real.

You sighed softly, your fingers threading through his hair as you stared up at the ceiling, trying to keep the tears at bay. “Spence… please stop mentioning it. I don’t want to cry again. Can’t we just enjoy this week?”

He lifted his head slightly, resting his chin on your soft tummy as he looked up at you, his eyes full of regret for bringing it up. “Yes, I’m sorry, love,” he murmured, his voice sincere.

For a moment, you just looked at him, taking in every detail of his face—the way his hair fell into his eyes, the softness of his expression, the beauty that radiated from him so clearly. “You’re so beautiful, Spencer Reid,” you mused, your heart squeezing in your chest at how deeply you felt for him.

Spencer’s eyes softened even more, and then, almost as if he couldn’t hold it back any longer, he said, “I love you.” It was the first time he’d said it, the words slipping out with such raw honesty that they made your breath hitch.

“Fuck, Spencer,” you laughed, even as tears welled up in your eyes, “I said not to make me cry.”

His expression shifted from worry to understanding in an instant, and he quickly sat up, pulling you into his arms, holding you close in the bed. “Why are you crying?” he asked, concern lacing his voice as he brushed a tear from your cheek with his thumb.

“Because I love you too,” you whispered, your smile tinged with sadness as you looked up at him, the reality of your situation crashing down on you.

The look in Spencer’s eyes changed then, deepening into something more intense, more profound. He kissed you, but this time it was different—there was more emotion, more passion than either of you had ever felt before. It wasn’t just a kiss; it was a promise, a declaration, a desperate attempt to hold onto this moment, this connection, for as long as possible.

Slowly, he guided you back down onto the pillows, his body moving between your legs, his hands caressing your sides with a tenderness that made your heart ache. His lips never left yours, the kiss deepening as he settled over you, his breath warm against your skin.

“Spencer?” you whispered hesitantly, your voice trembling slightly. You knew he wasn’t very experienced, and until now, the two of you hadn’t gone further than heavy makeouts. He’d only seen you topless once, and even then, he’d been adorably flustered.

“I’m sure, darling,” he breathed, his voice steady but filled with a nervous excitement that matched your own.

“Oh—okay,” you replied softly, your heart racing as you let yourself sink into the moment, trusting him, trusting this love.

That morning, as the sun filtered through the curtains, casting a warm, golden glow over the room, you lay tangled in the sheets with Spencer. Both of you basking in the intimacy you’d shared, it had been more than just a physical connection; it was a merging of hearts, a deepening of the bond that had grown between you over the summer.

In those moments, with the world outside fading away, you realized that Spencer had stolen your heart completely, just as you had become his first in so many ways. The warmth of the sun on your skin, the softness of the sheets, and the gentle rise and fall of his breath beside you—it all felt like a dream, a perfect culmination of the love that had blossomed between you.

As you lay there, wrapped in each other's arms, you knew that no matter what the future held, this moment would always be yours.

—

“Okay, so call me as soon as you make it to your apartment. And… text and email as much as you can,” Spencer said, his voice trembling as he fought to keep his composure.

The moment was heavy with emotion as you stood by your car, Spencer’s eyes shimmering with unshed tears. The weight of the impending separation hung between you, thick and tangible, making every word feel like it was being carved into your hearts.

“I will, Spence,” you nodded, your own voice barely steady as you bit your lip, trying desperately to hold back the sob that threatened to break free.

“I love you, please know that,” he whispered, the raw emotion in his words making your heart ache.

“I know, baby, I know,” you murmured, wrapping your arms around him and pressing your lips to his in a kiss that conveyed everything you couldn’t put into words. “I love you too, so much.”

As you pulled back slightly, Spencer’s voice cracked with a plea, “Please don’t forget me.”

You stared into his eyes, the depth of your feelings for him clear and unwavering. “Spencer Reid,” you said softly but firmly, “I will never forget you.”

With that, you kissed him one last time, the bittersweet farewell lingering in the air as you both held onto each other for as long as you could.

—

Despite all the promises and the heartfelt goodbyes, life had other plans. The demands of your master’s program and the grueling work on Broadway consumed your time and energy. Spencer, too, became increasingly busy with his responsibilities at the BAU and his guest lectures, often being called away for cases more frequently than before. The distance, both physical and emotional, began to take its toll.

Calls that used to bring comfort and connection started going to voicemail. Texts that once sparked joy and laughter were left unanswered. Emails that used to be filled with affection and updates were opened but never replied to. The busy lives you both led pulled you further apart, until one day, you realized that you hadn’t spoken to him in weeks, then months.

The connection that had once been so strong faded away, not with a dramatic end but with a quiet, painful drift. Despite the love you had for each other, you and Spencer never saw each other again. The summer you shared remained a beautiful, bittersweet memory, a chapter that closed far too soon.

—

Present

The present day found Rossi deep in the midst of orchestrating the final details for JJ and Will’s last-minute wedding. After wrapping up their latest case, he hadn’t expected to be planning a wedding, but he was more than happy to take on the challenge. With everything falling into place—JJ’s mom attending, the guests taken care of, food arranged, his beautiful backyard as the location, and even the rings sorted—the only thing left was the music. Rossi could have easily hired a band, a DJ, or even a string quartet, but he had someone specific in mind.

His thoughts drifted to a young woman he had met years ago, back when she was just starting out on Broadway as a background singer. Rossi had discovered her in a small, back-alley theater during an off-Broadway performance of Rent where she played Mimi. Her performance had been nothing short of phenomenal, and Rossi had made sure to keep in touch with her over the years. She was someone who had made an impression on him, and he liked to check in on those who left a mark.

Pulling out his phone, Rossi quickly typed out a message, hoping she was available.

Am I the luckiest man alive or can you not be in Virginia tomorrow evening for a wedding?

It didn’t take long for a response to come through.

A wedding? This is a strange proposal, but I can be there. Send me details!

Rossi smiled, relieved and excited. With her on board, he knew the night would be something truly special.

—

The air was filled with warmth and joy as JJ and Will’s wedding ceremony unfolded, a picture-perfect blend of love and simplicity. A band played soft, unobtrusive music in the background, setting the tone for the intimate occasion. As the ceremony transitioned to the reception, the band continued to provide a gentle soundtrack, allowing everyone to bask in the glow of the newlyweds’ happiness.

But as the moment for the first dance approached, Rossi knew it was time to unveil his final surprise. He made his way to the small makeshift stage, where a microphone stood unused, and with a confident smile, he took hold of it. “Alright everyone, may I have your attention, please?” His voice carried over the crowd, drawing all eyes to him.

The guests turned their attention to Rossi, their expressions warm and expectant. JJ and Will stood together, their hands intertwined, basking in the moment.

“JJ, Will,” Rossi began, his tone heartfelt, “I am so happy for you both. Thank you for allowing us to witness your union, and may you lead a beautiful life together.”

The group erupted into cheers, the love and support for the couple evident in every smiling face.

Rossi’s eyes twinkled with mischief as he continued, “Now, I do have one last surprise for you…”

JJ, ever the skeptic, raised a brow, her signature look of sass making a brief appearance as she wondered what Rossi had up his sleeve.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Rossi announced, his voice brimming with excitement, “all the way from Broadway, please welcome, Y/N L/N…”

The crowd turned with curiosity as you stepped onto the stage, ready to add your own special touch to this unforgettable night.

As you stepped onto the stage, the evening air filled with a gentle buzz of excitement and warmth. “Hello, all! Thank you so much, David,” you began, your voice clear and bright. “I am deeply grateful to be here performing for such a special evening. Thank you for letting me share in the festivities.”

JJ and Will raised their glasses to you, smiles of appreciation on their faces, and the crowd erupted into cheers. But one person did not share in the cheers, silently staring from the back of the group, his expression frozen in shock—Spencer. He never forgot a face, and yours was etched into his memory, even if time had added a few years since your last encounter.

“I was informed this first song is to be the first dance,” you continued, your eyes scanning the crowd, oblivious to the familiar face among them. “So please make room for the lovely couple!” With a graceful flourish, you began your performance, your voice effortlessly filling the space with a soft, ethereal melody that perfectly suited the evening’s romantic atmosphere.

Spencer could hardly believe what he was seeing. You were here. You were real, and you were performing at this very wedding. For someone who lived his life by facts, figures, and logical conclusions, this moment felt almost like destiny. You had come back into his life in the most unexpected way, and it left him reeling.

You hadn’t noticed him yet, as he was hiding out towards the back, not wanting to draw attention to himself. But as the evening wore on, he found himself pulled to the dance floor by Penelope Garcia, her bright smile and colorful attire impossible to resist. It was only then, as you sang and your eyes swept across the guests, that you saw him. Your breath caught in your throat, but you kept singing, the professionalism in you pushing through even as your wide eyes tracked his every move.

He was dancing with a woman—tall, beautiful, blonde, and dressed in an outfit that could only be described as whimsical. They moved together easily, and you felt a pang of something you hadn’t expected to feel after all these years—jealousy. It wasn’t that you had any claim on him; so much time had passed, and life had moved on for both of you. But seeing him again, so unexpectedly, brought a rush of old emotions, and suddenly, it felt as though no time had passed at all.

You could feel your pulse quicken as the last notes of your performance faded into the night. The applause was warm and appreciative, but all you could think about was getting off that stage and finding Spencer. The need to talk to him, to see him up close after all these years, was almost overwhelming.

“That concludes my contribution to the gorgeous evening David planned. Thank you all again for allowing me to sing for you,” you said, giving the crowd a gracious smile as you left the stage. As you descended, Rossi was there to escort you, his arm linked with yours as he guided you toward the refreshments. You wasted no time in grabbing a glass of champagne, hoping the bubbles might help settle your nerves.

“That was phenomenal, Y/N. You never disappoint. Thank you so much for coming on such short notice,” Rossi said, his voice full of genuine gratitude.

“It was my pleasure, David. Thank you for always thinking of me,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady despite the tumult of emotions swirling inside you.

Before Rossi could say more, a voice you knew all too well sounded from behind you. “Y/N?”

You turned, and there he was—Spencer Reid, standing just a few feet away, looking even more handsome than you remembered. Your heart skipped a beat, your breath catching in your throat as all the emotions you’d been trying to keep at bay came rushing back with full force.

“Hi, Spence,” you managed to say, your voice soft but warm, betraying the flood of feelings coursing through you.

Rossi, ever perceptive, noticed the unspoken tension and slowly began to excuse himself, moving away with the intention of questioning you both later.

Spencer seemed flustered, his mind racing as he tried to process everything. “Wh—what are you doing here? I mean, I know what you’re doing here, but how do you know Rossi?”

You swallowed, trying to keep your emotions in check. “He, uh, he came to one of my shows when I first started performing,” you explained, though your voice was a little choked up, the weight of the moment pressing down on you.

Spencer’s eyes widened with surprise. “You perform? Where?”

“Broadway…” you said, a small, almost self-conscious laugh escaping your lips as you watched his reaction.

Spencer’s eyes softened, a mix of pride and awe flickering across his face. “Wow,” he breathed, clearly impressed. “I didn’t know he really meant–that’s… amazing, Y/N.”

For a moment, neither of you knew what to say, the years that had passed between you suddenly feeling both like a lifetime and like no time at all.

Spencer’s voice was soft, almost reverent as he asked, “Do you… want to dance?”

You nodded, your heart swelling with a mix of nostalgia and hope. “I’d love to.” You let him take your hand and lead you to the dance floor, feeling a lump form in your throat as you realized just how much you had missed him. As his back turned to you, you quickly dabbed at your eyes, hoping he wouldn’t notice the tears threatening to spill over.

The team, scattered around the reception, couldn’t help but glance over at the two of you, curiosity piqued. They exchanged looks, silently wondering how their usually women-avoidant genius had managed to snag the singer for a dance.

With Spencer’s hands resting gently on your hips and your arms draped over his shoulders, you felt both light as a feather and heavy as a ton of bricks, the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air between you. His touch was gentle, reassuring, but there was an underlying tension—years of separation and longing bubbling just beneath the surface.

“I can’t believe I’m seeing you right now,” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly. “Are you sure you’re real?”

Spencer, always quick with a quip, responded with a small smile. “Do you often see people that aren’t real?”

You shook your head, a soft laugh escaping despite the lump in your throat. “No… I just can’t get my mind around it.”

“Me neither,” he admitted, his thumbs rubbing small, soothing circles on your waist.

You looked up at him, your eyes tracing the familiar features of his face, now slightly more mature but just as handsome. “You look so handsome, Spence. You’ve aged like fine wine.”

His blush was immediate, endearing in its sincerity. “Thank you,” he mumbled, clearly flustered. “You look gorgeous. You haven’t aged a bit.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I’m not a profiler, but even I know that’s a lie. Look at these bags!” You pointed to the faint circles under your eyes, a result of late nights and hard work.

Spencer’s gaze softened, and he smiled tenderly. “You’re perfect, maybe I’m just blind to your flaws.”

“Wow, Agent,” you mused, a teasing note in your voice. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re flirting with me.”

“Is that okay?” he asked, a hint of vulnerability in his tone. “Figured I could make up for lost time.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you tried to steady your breathing. “Spencer…”

He noticed the shift in your expression, his brow furrowing slightly in concern. “I remember that face. What’s wrong? Do you have a partner?”

“No,” you assured him quickly, shaking your head. “Should we keep it friendly? Not much has changed…”

“A lot has changed,” Spencer countered, a small smile playing on his lips.

“Like what?” you asked, genuinely curious.

“Like… I happen to know that if you work on Broadway, you get downtime between shows. You’re here right now, aren’t you?”

“That’s true… but I still have to rehearse, practice, and prepare. And I have an audition next week.”

Spencer’s smile widened, his eyes filled with admiration. “And you will do amazing at that audition. Do you want to get dinner after?”

“In New York?” you asked, a bit taken aback by his boldness.

“Mhm,” he hummed, his forehead pressing gently against yours. “I’ll take the train, meet you after you blow the casting directors away.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, though your heart was pounding. “You’re insane. What if we don’t get along anymore?”

“That would be really unfortunate, and I’d just take the train back,” he snorted, the sound making you laugh despite yourself.

“What if you find out that you only liked me because you didn’t really know me?” you asked, the question heavier than you intended.

“I loved you, think I still do,” Spencer corrected, his voice soft but firm, taking your breath away.

“Right,” you murmured, the gravity of his words settling over you. “So… you just want to date me? After six years?”

“Yes,” he said without hesitation, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Even though it’s going to be hard?”

“Absolutely.”

“And we’ll have to do long distance more often than not?”

“Mhm,” he nodded, his resolve unwavering.

“And—” you began, but your words were cut off as Spencer leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that was both tender and intense, filled with all the emotion and love that had been building up between you for years.

—

“Hey, babe, how was the train?” you asked as Spencer walked up to you, his familiar, comforting presence immediately easing some of your post-audition nerves.

Spencer laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. “You just auditioned for Hairspray and you’re asking me how my train ride was??” His tone was incredulous, but there was a playful glint in his eyes.

You shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. “I’m anxious and don’t want to think about it, so tell me about your train ride… or kiss me.”

Spencer’s smile softened as he leaned in closer. “I’ll do both,” he said, his voice tender as he bent down to kiss you. But in his eagerness, he completely forgot about the coffee cup in his hand. As he leaned in, the warm drink spilled, splashing down the front of your shirt.

“Spencer!” you exclaimed, jumping back as the coffee soaked through the fabric, surprise and exasperation coloring your voice.

Spencer’s eyes widened in horror, his face turning a deep shade of red. “Oh no, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean—let me—” He fumbled, his usual calm demeanor thrown off by the sudden mishap.

Despite the mess, you couldn’t help but laugh, the tension from the audition melting away. “It’s okay, Spence,” you said, shaking your head as you tried to blot the coffee stain. “I guess some things never change.”

Spencer, still flustered but smiling, handed you a handkerchief, grateful that you were taking it in stride. “I’ll make it up to you,” he promised, and you knew he meant it.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

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so-much-for-the-seashells · 5 months ago

Text

Taming the Supe

✨ Soldier Boy x Fem!Therapist!Reader ✨

Minors do ¡NOT! interact with this post. Thanks.

A/N: Let me be upfront and say that I actually haven’t seen the boys 😭 not my cup of tea as far as shows go. So this perception of SB might be very far off. But like, he’s hot and he keeps showing up on my feed so this is happening >:) and in my defense I did try to do a little bit of research on America’s Ass(hole), so hopefully that shows lol. From what I understand he’s a TERRIBLE person who just so happens to be extremely attractive, so slay. Oh, also, to any therapist reading this: I am so, SO sorry.

Icons by me! Any and all interaction is very much appreciated!

Also- I’m looking for a beta reader/ editor! If you think you’d be interested, dm me!

Content Warnings: 🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️ 🌶️honestly that about sums it up. There’s SOME- A LITTLE- plot but it’s more plop if you catch my drift. This is toe-curling, eyes-rolling, name-screaming, tsunami-coming level shit, ya hear?? At least, that’s what I went for. ;)

Just note that SB is… very SB for the better half of it. And he has an INSANE breeding kink.

The ending’s real rushed cause honestly this was mainly written for the spice, but hopefully it’s enjoyable!

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Taming Soldier Boy was a feat that should have been impossible. In all regards.

He was a jackass- apple didn’t fall far from the tree as far as he and his dad were concerned. It wasn’t necessarily Ben’s fault; you cant help your blood. But because of said aforementioned father, Ben was brought up on misogynist ideals and the ideal that he was simultaneously both a disappointment and the bearer of a massive god-complex. The former applied to when he was around his father, the latter to when he was around literally anyone else.

Not only that, but he was separated from society for forty years, being tortured- sorry, “experimented on”- by a skeevy Russian organization that his own teammates had pawned him off too. Sure, he had committed massive, unforgivable atrocities, but quite frankly, the other supes on Payback weren’t much better. Maybe not as bad, but certainly not much better.

He re-walked upon the United States at the very young age of one hundred and three, coupled with PTSD, a god complex and more “back in my day” rants than your weird old uncle could ever hope to spew.

And now the thing is: it’s easy to make him look like he blends in. Trim the disheveled forty-year-old beard, give him some boyish bangs, throw him in a tight white shirt and a Giants jersey with grey sweats and all of a sudden you have a normal looking, abnormally attractive dude. Looks maybe thirty seven. Has a smile that has probably actually, literally charmed the pants off of someone.

But to make him act right? That’s the hard part.

That also where you came in.

You were a therapist with a damn good reputation. Shouldn’t have been involved with Supes in the slightest, but you owed Hughie Campbell a favor. Good kid who just so happened to have powers. So be it.

The kid had stumbled into your office a few years before Soldier Boy returned, and you had had multiple sessions before he dropped of the grid. You paid it no mind- you have a lot of clients, and therapy isn’t a good world to get attached to any of them.

But then one day, after one of Homelander’s many destructive “saves” of the city, you found yourself stuck in a burning building. By some miracle Hughie was in the same building, and he teleported you out and onto safer ground. Sure it was awkward being held up bridal style by a young dude who was ass-naked, but stranger things have happened.

Because of the save, you felt that you owed him, and told him as much. He was gracious, not wanting to take advantage of you, and you went back to not hearing anything from him.

That is, until just after the news article about Soldier Boy’s return broke out. It was definitely a headline that had caused you to raise a brow, but from what you knew America’s first supe was not what Vought made him out to be in the eyes of the public. He was an asshole who killed activists, and was most likely very racist. If anything, seeing the headline made you slightly wary for the good of the world. But you let it slide, figuring that if you already existed in a world where psychos like Homelander did you would probably be fine if there was one more.

Well, you were very much wrong.

A few days after the article broke out, Hughie called you. Asked if you would be okay to take you up on that favor. Of course, you said yes- you were only alive because of him. He had showed up to your house, and teleported you to a dinghy motel with no explanation, rendering you both in the same awkward situation as before. Him holding you bridal style, ass naked. If you had a nickel for every time he’s done that… you’d have ten cents, but it’s still oddly specific of it to happen twice.

“Listen,” he had said, setting you down. You had no choice but to do so, given that he was ass naked and it would be really awkward to see that. So you kept your eyes locked on his as he talked. “You know how Soldier Boy is back?”

“Mhm…” you nodded warily, knowing damn well that that was an ominous hook to your situation.

“Uh, he’s insane.”

“Sorry, he’s, like, he is? Presently?”

“Yeah… he’s in there and I think he would really benefit from a little therapy. His mind’s wired like a grandpa who has stories from every war.”

“Fuck, Hugh,” you cursed. He winced, his sweet eyes opened wide. “Sorry. It’s just.. are you kidding me?” Soldier Boy? It would probably take a team of specialists to figure out what’s going on in that head.

“Look, I know it’s a lot to ask, but could you at least try?”

“Only for you.” It was really hard to have resolve with those puppy dog eyes staring at you.

“Thanks, y/n. Really.”

So you had walked in behind him; waiting as he threw on some sweats that were in a plastic bag outside of the motel room door.

You walked in together, only to see the most beautiful man you’d ever seen sitting on the bed, shoes still on.

Look. Everyone has fantasized about Soldier Boy at least once in their lives. The pinnacle of physical perfection, charisma oozing from his pores- it was hard not to. You were no exception- in your younger years there had certainly been more than a few nights where you were fucking yourself to pictures or videos of him, pathetically rutting on your clit and wishing it was his huge, gloved hands instead.

Of course, that was well before the article on the truth about him broke out. After that he had majorly lost his sex appeal.

However, seeing him in person immediately flashed you back to being younger and sexually frustrated, wondering how a man like that even existed. He was even better looking in person, piercing green eyes boring holes into you.

Thankfully it only took one douchey comment to snap you back to reality.

“So prostitutes are still a thing?” he asked, the question directed at Hughie. You immediately balled your hands into fists at your side, ready to tell this old-ass off, before remembering that you were there on professional business.

“No, no, she’s a therapist,” Hughie told him. “Y/n L/n, the best in the business.”

“You brought me a shrink?” he laughed incredulously. “Fuck you, I don’t have shell shock!”

He definitely had shell shock.

You didn’t bother waiting for Hughie to answer. “Listen, Mr. Boy, I’m only here ‘cause I owe this kid a favor. Would it really pain you so much to talk about yourself for an hour?” Your hands were planted on your hips.

“Man, when did women get so feisty?” he asked, that 1950s accent oozing through his words.

“Once they came to their senses,” I say with sass.

“So what? All I have to do is talk to a pretty thing about me?”

“Pretty much,” you conceded, ignoring the “compliment” he payed you.

“Fine.” Great. He agreed. How wonderful.

“I’m going to get some food, I’ll be back in an hour. If you need anything at all, just text me,” Hughie told me. “Thanks again.”

“Sure,” you replied, leaning in by his ear. “I think you’re going to owe me after this.

“Yeah, you’re probably not wrong,” he agrees, patting you on the back before teleporting away to the store. Man, this power thing… never gets any less weird.

“Take a seat,” Soldier Boy patted his lap.

“Hilarious,” you rolled your eyes, sitting on the other bed. Look, if he hadn’t been the jackass you knew him to be you most definitely would’ve sat on his lap. But you knew better. At least in the moment. “So, tell me about yourself.”

“M’name’s Ben, and I’m a soldier. My daddy hated me, so became a superhero. Surprise, surprise, he still hated me. But I’m better, stronger than he ever was. Might go take a piss on his grave while I’m here.”

“Interesting,” you murmur, putting together a mental file. Name: Ben. No last name? Weird. Daddy issues- makes the god complex make sense. Hmm. “Did you ever have a mother in the picture?”

“No. Died when I was a boy.” Added to file.

“Okay, so then why take the serum?” You know why, but you want to see something.

“You deaf? I said it was cause my daddy hated me.”

“You took a untested, potentially dangerous serum just because of your daddy issues?” you ask, matching his rude tone.

“You- you know what? This is boring. How about you and I fuck instead of this, hm?” he asks. Him saying the word fuck turned you on more than it should, but his misogyny was a quick turnoff.

“I think I’m just going to text Hughie,” you said, moving to stand, wholly unimpressed.

“Wait, no- I did it cause I hated feeling weak. Feeling stupid. Thought it would turn me into someone, just turned me into a jackass machine,” he said honestly, his eyes big and sad.

“Okay,” you said simply, sitting back down. That’s much more like it. “So then what led you to murder innocent people?”

If this were a normal session you would have never asked such a thing. Ever. But this was anything but normal.

“What did you just say to me?” And there it was. A glimpse of that Soldier Boy quick temper. You probably shouldn’t have been making him mad, but you didn’t know how else to go about this given that you weren’t in your professional environment.

“You heard me,” you told him with your arms crossed, trying to bite back the fear caused by

“You’re playing with fire,” he warns, fists balled at his sides. “A question like that’s gonna cost ya.”

You roll your eyes, standing my ground. “Why. Did. You. Murder. Them?”

“Because they deserved it,” he yelled, standing up. You do your best not to flinch, but he was an imposing six-and-some feet tall.

“How? Did the Milk family deserve it? Did their son?” you yell, fighting off the fear in your voice.

He stops then, jaw clenching. “I was the good guy. The hero.” His voice breaks, ever so slightly. His green eyes burn holes into yours. You stare right back, just as intensely.

“So, imposter syndrome.”

“No!” he roared, the sound threatening to bring down the roof of the motel room.

“They were good people. Activists. Made a difference in their community.”

“That got what was coming to them.”

“What? A car being thrown at their house?”

“You…” he steps closer. You sit up in the bed, back against the headboard. “You don’t know me.”

I stand up then. Not nearly as tall as him, but in anger. “Yeah, but I know your actions.”

“Then you should think I’m a hero.”

“I don’t.” I say grimly, arms crossed.

“I’m Soldier Boy, for Christ’s sake,” he spat.

“Yeah, and I’m Y/N L/N. Who fucking cares.” Well this went from therapy to argument real fast.

He leans down then, by my ear. It’s all you can do not to back away as his hot breath fans the column of your neck. “Maybe you should.” His voice is gravelly, rough from anger but also from something else…

“Well I won’t.” You said, maintaining your ground.

“Wrong move, sweetheart,” he said, before crashing his lips to yours. You squeaked into the kiss, surprised, but he just took initiate to shove his tongue in your mouth, exploring with great fervor.

And you knew damn well how wrong this was. How unprofessional you had been; how bad it was that his tongue, this tongue of a murderer, was half down your throat. But in the moment you couldn’t find it in yourself to care, because he was just that good of a kisser. Made you forget about the misogyny and his volatility. At least, for the time being.

He pulled away, smirking down at you.

“If we do this, you’re going to talk to me after. Act like you’re an adult,” you told him sternly, as if your underwear wasn’t soaked with arousal from the kiss.

“Fine, fine,” he grumbled.

“I fucking mean it,” you reiterated, hands on his pecs.

“And I fucking said fine,” he retorted. “Ben,” he introduced as an after thought.

“Okay, cool. Ben.”

“That’s the name I better hear coming off those pretty lips in a couple minutes here,” his gaze darkened with lust, emerald green eyes darkened to the color of a forest cloaked in the dead of night..

“O-okay.” And there it is, the first time you gave into the stutter derived from your desire. This was dangerous, but once he kissed you again you couldn’t find it in yourself to care.

When he pulled away he thumbed at your lower lip, and you immediately react led to his touch, mouth falling open around the digit. “Good girl,” he praised, and you hated the way you felt proud at his words. He pulled off his jersey and under shirt, urging you to do the same until you both stood before each other, topless. He crowded you against the bed until you fell back, calves draped over the edge. He made room for himself between your legs, kissing you furiously, and you let out little breathy sighs as he did so.

“Attagirl,” he breathed when you gasped his name as he bit along your collarbone. He continued his fiery trail, from the juncture of your earlobe and neck to your collar bone and then down your chest, and you knew damn well that you weren’t going to be able to cover up half of the marks he gave you. But you also couldn’t find it in yourself to care.

“You-you can come in me,” you mumbled as he kisses the valley between your breasts.

He chuckles darkly. “Oh, I’ll fill you up real good” he said, eliciting a gasp from you when he bites your nipple.

He continued his path of kisses down your body, and in the bottom of your eye you could already see dark marks on the tops of your breasts, making your head fuzzy.

He stopped at your pants, biting the juncture of your hip and and thigh.

“‘m gonna get you ready for me,” he explained, before ripping off your pants and underwear in one go. This is not a metaphor, he literally tore them of you. You whined in protest, but he dismissed you, saying “I’ll get you new ones.”

And even though you knew he most definitely wouldn’t, his breath on your clit stopped you from caring.

He gave you no warning before diving into your soaked pussy, and you all but screamed his name when he fid, your fingers grasping his hair for dear life. He groaned into your cunt but kept going, spurred on by your actions.

The thing was, you hadn’t expected him to be good at eating pussy. He was from, like, the forties, after all. You thought that most people then probably didn’t bother as no one really cared about women and probably their pleasure back then.

Well, Soldier Boy- Ben- was very different.

He worked at you methodically, licking long stripes before thrusting his tongue in an out of you, testing the waters. He kept eye contact, and you could feel the smugness in his gaze as he watched you come apart.

Eventually he switched so that he was sucking on your clit, which would’ve been enough to bring you over already but then he added one of his long, thick fingers to your pussy. You yelped his name, not ready for the stretch and on the edge.

“Don’t stop,” you urged, whining. “Please don’t stop, Ben.”

And he didn’t, adding a second finger and scissoring within you. If his fingers were already like this, his cock…

But you couldn’t think about that then, nor could you really think about anything at all because he started tracing tight patterns on your bud and added a third finger, stretching you so far that you had no choice but to come. He helped you ride out your high for longer than you thought possible, lapping up all of your release before standing up to full height.

“That good, Sweets?” he smirked, looking down at your fucked out self. You nodded dumbly, and he chuckled. “Thought so.”

Your release covered his facial hair, but he didn’t seem to care much, just wiped a little off with his forearm. He then kicked off his shoes and took off his pants and underwear, and that’s when you saw it.

You were already baffled by him- beyond hot, perfect physique, pussy-eating champion, etc.

But his cock? It was huge. And it was perfect, a word that shouldn’t be able to be used to describe the male genitalia.

“Ben- that’s not going to fit-,” you gasp, sounding like a cheap porno.

“We’ll see about that,” he said, and from his tone you could tell he was going to bottom out no matter what.

Oh, god.

He climbed over you, his large forearms on either side of your head as he rested over you in a plank. He put a pillow under your hips, and you knew you were in for it.

He rubbed his glorious dick over your hole, your clit, and through your folds, covering it in your slick, and you moaned his name.

“Good girl,” he praised, before finally lining up with your entrance. You were already clenching around nothing, but then he started pushing in.

If his fingers were big, his dick… even the tip had you a moaning mess.

“Oh, honey, you’re tighter than a virgin who’s never touched herself,” he groaned as he pushed in, you writhing beneath him. “‘n I just stretched you out, too.” The pillow under your hips let him get impossibly deep, and after an eternity he finally bottomed out, so large that you shouldn’t have been able to take him. But you did, and he hadn’t even done anything yet but you were a whimpering, whiny mess under him.

“I’m gonna move now,” he told you, before pulling almost all the way out and back in, slowly. You were writhing under him, but he was undeterred, and just kept going until you gave him easy access.

“Ben?” you asked, your voice sweet. And you didn’t know what possessed you to add the next part of your question, but you did. “Can you fuck me?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” he groaned, before rearing back again and slamming back into you. It was hard and it was rough, and it was exactly what you wanted even if you knew you weren’t gonna be able to sit right for a week.

You literally had a supe cock in you. You’d seen dildos of these, maybe even owned one, but nothing could do the real thing justice as you whined beneath it.

And if you thought it was already enough just taking him like this, once he started talking you were through.

“Yeah, take it,” he smirked, pounding into you at literal superhuman speed. “I’m going to destroy this cunt until we’re both leaking out of it, and then I’m going to keep going,” he promised against your collarbone, biting anywhere he pleased. You whimper against him, pussy clenching around his enormous length as it crashed in and out of your fluttering walls.

“You like that? Wanna be my little slut?” he grinned, rutting on your clit so you couldn’t answer. “You’d be a real good slut. Would just keep you at home all day, naked and always ready for me. Always full of me too,” he mused, his pace somehow getting rougher. Your mouth was dropped in a permanent ‘o’ as you reveled in the way his huge hands are squeezing your hips and pulling you against him, filing you to the base.

“No other boy can do it like me, sweetheart,” he said cockily. “Fill you up so good, make you mewl.” And as it turns out he was most definitively right about that. But then it was too hard to think about what’s right and wrong when-

“Ben- I- ‘m gonna-.”

“Aww baby, what’s the matter? ‘M I fucking you too good? You can’t talk?”

You moaned pathetically, pulling on his fluffy hair.

“I know, I know,” he said with a soft grunt. “Come for me, pretty thing. Come.” And you did. Hard, all consumingly. It hurt so good that you almost blacked out, but he kept going, doing his damnedest to overstimulate you.

“Ain’t done with you yet, sweetheart. Ain’t even close,” he told you, pulling you off of him and sitting, legs swung over the edge of the bed, feet planted on the ground. He grabbed you, letting you straddle his lap before slamming you down on his length. At this angle he could get impossibly deeper, his dick easily reaching your cervix on every thrust. You screamed, holding onto him for dear life with your face buried in his neck.

“Gonna fill you until you’re full, and then some,” he promised, lifting you up and down, flexing that super strength. “Rub on that pretty clit for me, doll,” he asked. You tried, you really did, but you were just so sensitive.

“That’s okay, I’ll do everything for you, you just take it like a good slut,” he cooed, bringing a hand between the two of you and rutting on your clit without abandon. You came again with a wail of his name before he pistoned into you sloppily, finally spilling his own release into you. And it was messy, and you were far too full to keep going, but he doesn’t care, somehow still hard even though he had just painted your walls with his thick, sticky cum.

You were babbling at this point, raking your nails against him as he kept going to town on your cunt.

“It’s just been too long, baby,” he explained, kissing the side of your head. “Got a little too much energy.” Yeah no shit, with the way that you knew that you were not going to be able to walk.

But he just couldn’t seem to shut up. “Y’know, if I had you back in my day we would’ve had ten kids. You would’ve give birth to one and then I’d put another one in you the next month,” he said as he continued his brutal pace. And damn, this man really had a breeding kink. It was not really your thing-kids tend to get in the way of careers, and also, you were infertile- but anything’s hot when it comes out of those plush lips with the 50s accent, so, naturally, you moan in response.

“Would’ve kept you sated all the time too, sweetheart. Any time you were hot and bothered, had an attitude… I’d fuck it out of you,” he murmured, enveloping you in his arms to hold you closer. You didn’t know if it’s the proximity to him, his voice, or the way that he hasn’t really let you come down from any of your highs, but suddenly you were coming again… just in a different way.

“Aww baby, did you just squirt?” he chuckled. You did all you can to further hide your face in his neck as he just kept going, only concious enough to register your embarrassment and fatigue. He pulls you by your hair to look at him. “Don’t be embarrassed, sweetheart, that was so hot.” You smiled, cheeks pink, your somehow still horny self proud of his compliment.

“It’s okay, just give me one more and you’ll be done, alright?”

“O-okay,” you say shakily. You hadn’t even noticed hot much your legs were quivering until then, and he laughed, squeezing them close.

“You’re so cute, y’know that?” he praised, rubbing your clit. Your blush became even more furious before you came again at him tracing patterns into your poor, overstimulated, sensitive bud. He came in you shortly after with a very sexy grunt, and it was just leaking out of you, going all over the tops of his thighs. He held you at the base of his cock though, not ready to pull out.

“You alright, Dollface?” he asked, gingerly moving- somehow while keeping his cock in you- you onto your back. You nodded, sleepiness overtaking you.

“Good girl,” he nuzzled your nose, gifting you the view of all of the pretty freckles on his cheeks looking like gold specs. You whined as he pulls out, and he tutted, plugging you up with his fingers.

“Don’t tempt me, sweetheart. If you were a supe we’d be going another ten rounds, but I know you’re tired,” he warned, cock still semi-hard.

“Ben,” you gestured towards it, unsure what you were going to say because as much as you wish you had his stamina, you didn’t.

“It’ll be fine, sweets,” he shrugged it off. “Perks of the unbelievable stamina.” He kissed your forehead, before lightly thrusting his fingers in and out of you in attempt to keep the cum in. Pitiful tears leaked out of the corner of your eyes from the overstimulation.

“There, there,” he cooed, kissing them away. “Just don’t want to waste any,” he smirked, before leaving his long, thick fingers where they were inside you, all the way up to the knuckle. Your legs can’t stop shaking, and you try to talk but you can’t.

“Let me get you some water, put your fingers here for me,” he said, waiting until you do so, feeling your sticky release on your hand. You knew damn well that you werenot going to be able to stand.

“Here, sweets,” he returned, still ass naked, holding a glass, taking your fingers out of your cunt and licking them clean. “We taste real good, sugar.” You whimpered, ready to go at it again, abused pussy be damned. Speaking of, the poor cleaning staff… your mixed releases were dripping out of your poor hole, coating the bed and the bottom of your thighs in the stickiness.

“You really are an insatiable little minx,” he chuckled, holding you up so you can take a sip of the water. You obliged, eagerly chugging it down.

“I’m not going to be able to walk,” you muttered, resting your head on his freckled shoulders.

“Looks like you’re going to need to stick around, so I can take care of you,” he squeezed you.

“I’ll tell Hughie to take another hour, tell him that the therapy’s going real well,” you suggested.

“Oh yeah, real well. Definitely a happy ending, if you catch my drift.”

“Multiple happy endings.”

“Atta girl,” he kisses the top of your head.

You sat there in silence for a bit, basking in the afterglow as he rocked you back and fourth gently.

You’d seen so many sides to this man: Misogynistic, quick tempered, sex-god… but sweetness? This was the one that surprised you. Maybe there was hope for him yet.

“Ben?” you broke the silence.

“Yeah?”

“Uh, I could help you, y’know. If you want, anyway. And it wouldn’t even be proper therapy- you know, cause we just- yeah.” your words were shaky but you meant them. There was something about the supe that made you think that maybe, just maybe you could help him.

“I dunno, sweets. I think I’m a little too far gone.”

Vulnerability. That’s progress.

“Could you at least try?”

“I can’t say no to you,” he said. And you’d take him up on that.

••••••••••••A Couple Years Later••••••••••••

Ben Johnson, as he was now known, ended up becoming a normal member of society. After a LOT of work, he’s grown into himself. He cares about people, his ego’s lessened, his temper too. You had helped him through the whole way- gotten him a proper therapist and everything. And now you two were a couple who could just go out and get donuts, and do normal couple things.

“They’re cream-filled!” he beams boyishly, his bangs in his face and his eyes sparkling. He sets the box down in front of you, somehow having already gotten powdered sugar in his beard. He leans in and whispers excitedly, “you know, like you!”

“You’re bad,” you giggle, as if you don’t have him leaking out of you where you sit. You had stopped for a quickie before you made it to the donut shop, it wasn’t your fault that you were so irresistible to each other.

“Not anymore, sweetheart,” he winks with a click of the tongue. Which is true- there’s a certain softness to him these days. His jaw isn’t so set, the crow’s feet by his eyes have deepened. He isn’t so volatile, his tempers dissolved a bit. He’s become more human.

Not to mention that he’s made great progress in apologizing to his victims and making amends to the best of his ability. It may never be enough, but now that he has someone to teach him how to be right and a better understanding of the complexities of the modern world, there’s a chance. And that’s a chance worth taking, to help someone who could’ve been good become good.

Taming Soldier Boy was a feat that should have been impossible, but you had nailed it.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Hope you enjoyed this fic! If you have any ideas for headcanons or fics, my ask box is always open! I don’t bite- not unless you want me too 😏 (so. So. Sorry 😭)

Xx!

#soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x you #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x y/n #soldier boy fanfiction #soldier boy #soldier boy smut

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makeyoumine69 · 6 months ago

Note

i would love to see more jealous patrick ❤️😫

Hello, dear anon!💗

Ohhh, jealous Patrick is a thing!

In the middle of dinner with Bateman's family in Dorsia, the reservation Patrick had been trying to get all week, you needed a moment to powder your nose. On your way back to your table, you were playing with the ring Patrick had gifted you a week ago—a huge gem shone on it whenever you rolled it between your fingers—but when you were distracted by the waiter, you accidentally dropped the ring, and if the stranger hadn't caught it, it would have rolled across the floor to God only knew where.

"Oh, thank you so much!" You beamed and smiled as the unfamiliar but handsome man returned the ring.

"It's nothing, really." He replied, examining you curiously from head to toe.

Such attention made you embarrassed, but then you felt a burning sensation between your shoulders. When you turned around, you locked your confused gaze with Bateman's, his hazel eyes piercing through yours like sharp daggers.

"Uh, thanks again! But I have to go!" With these words you walked away from the stranger before he could tell you something else.

Sheepishly you approached the table where Patrick, his parents and his brother Sean with his date were waiting for you. And even though Bateman's face was devoid of emotion, the moment you took your seat, his large palm found its way to your inner thigh in the blink of an eye.

"So, who was that guy?" He whispered in your ear, leaning closer so only you could hear. "And why was he touching you?"

You let out a shaky breath and smiled politely over Mrs. Bateman's comment that she was glad you were finally back. "What?" You asked bewilderedly without looking at the man next to you. "I just dropped my ring."

"You dropped the ring?" Patrick almost chuckled, his hand diving deeper between your legs under the table, forcing you to grab it to keep him from going any further. "Forgot how to wear a ring, sunshine?" The man took the opportunity to nip at your neck while everyone at the table was busy with each other. "When we get home, I'll remind you… I'll remind you of everything."

His skillful fingers reached beneath your skirt no matter how hard you tried to stop them. Now, they were brazenly playing with the lace of your panties and perfectly hiding beneath the soft material of your dress.

"Patrick," you gasped, gripping the table to stifle a moan as Bateman pressed his thumb against your blushing clit. "Please," your pathetic pleas only brought a broad grin to his smug face. "Stop."

And then Patrick's mother asked you a question you couldn't even hear as your whole body was focused on the rising tension in your lower abdomen as the man was relentless in his intentions to work you up.

"Excuse me…could you please repeat your question? You asked, completely awkward.

Patrick smirked arrogantly and leaned back in his chair. "She asked if you liked the food," he muttered mockingly, before shoving his two digits into your oozing pussy. "Believe me, Mother, she is enjoying the evening. Am I right, honey?"

Paralyzed, you were about to explode at how shamelessly Bateman was behaving, literally fingering you in front of his family. Biting your lower lip for a second, you tried to take a sip of mineral water, but the man wouldn't let you as he intensified his ministrations, curling his fingers to stimulate that spongy spot inside you that made you grip the surface of the table once again.

"Yes…everything is perfect," you managed to blurt out, sensing the cool metal of his Rolex gliding along your hot skin, the contrast only heightening the pleasure. "Thank you, Patrick."

"You're welcome, darling," the man chirped, leaning closer to peck your cheek in an affectionate, pretending way, only to purr into your ear. "Tonight I'm gonna fuck you so hard you won't even remember your own name." And with that, Bateman sat back, looking cheeky as ever, as he felt your inner walls contracting around his fingers once he began to rub your little bud with his thumb.

Mrs. Bateman couldn't help but smile. "Oh, you two are so adorable! Such a loving couple."

With a soft chuckle, Patrick grinned in pure delight. "Thank you. We really are."

Bastard.

#american psycho #patrick bateman x reader #patrick bateman imagine #patrick bateman #patrick bateman x female reader #patrick bateman x you #slasher x reader #slashers x reader #slasher x you #slasher smut #patrick bateman smut #patrick bateman headcanon #christian bale smut #christian bale x reader #patrick bateman reader #christian bale #patrick bateman imagines #answered asks #asks are always welcome

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delulustateofmind · 2 months ago

Text

Stray

Yan!Gojo x Reader

WC: 5.4K (My longest fic!)

TW: Fem!Reader, Non/Con Kiss (singular one), Mentions of stalking, obsession, your typical yandere behaviors. Manipulation.

Based off of this blurb: HERE

*******

Looking back, this was probably the biggest mistake of your life. Picking up a stray. Your mother’s voice echoed in your mind: “Don’t feed them, or they’ll keep crawling back.” She wasn’t just talking about animals-her words applied to monsters too, though you hadn’t realized that yet.

It was a few months ago, on an unusually quiet Saturday, when you’d decided to do your laundry in the community room of your apartment complex. The air was thick with the faint scent of various detergents and the rhythmic thrum of the machines. The room was dimly lit, the sunlight from outside filtering in through small windows, casting long shadows on the tiled floor. You had expected to be alone, but instead there he was- a stranger standing in the middle of the room, looking every bit as out of place as a lost puppy.

Or maybe more like a misplaced god.

Tall, lean, and dressed in casual clothes that seemed haphazardly thrown together, he held a laundry basket so full it looked like it might burst at any moment. You hesitated as his attention turned toward you, the black lenses of his tinted glasses hiding his eyes, but not the way his lips quirked into an awkward, lopsided smile.

“Uh sorry- am I blocking the open machines?” His voice was soft, almost too smooth for someone who looked so out of sorts. He shifted his weight, holding the basket like he wasn’t quite sure what to do with it. “Here, it’s all yours.”

You blinked, glancing from his awkward stance to the machines, then back to him. “Don’t you need to use them?” you asked, your voice quiet, but curious, as your gaze dropped to the absurdly full basket he was clutching, where you caught sight of something unexpectedly cute- soft pink boxers peeking out from the pile, printed with tiny dango. Adorable.

The man let out a breath chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck as he glanced away, his sheepish expression almost too genuine. “I’ll uh…I’ll just do it later,” he said, his voice lighter now, as if he was trying to downplay his obvious hesitation.

Your eyes drifted from his face to the empty table in front of him, noticing there was no detergent in sight.

“You sure you don’t need help?” Your tone coming out soft but teasing, knowing full well this beautiful man had no idea what he was doing.

He froze, just for a second. The easygoing charm faltered, replaced by something more real. A sigh escaped his lips, almost resigned, and the barest hint of pink dusted his cheeks. His head tilted slightly away from you, as if hidinging his embarrassment, before he mumbled, “yeah.”

You couldn’t help but smile. Cute.

So, you walked him through the steps, showing him how to use the last two remaining machines. You could’ve taken them for yourself, but instead, you let him have them. Maybe showing this man kindness was a mistake. Maybe you shouldn’t have helped him. Because who knew a single act of generosity would lead to this—an almost instinctual bond forming between you from this one interaction.

The process was… well, difficult to say the least. The conversation played out in fits and starts, with more awkward pauses than smooth exchanges.

“Do you have 100 yen coins? The machines don’t take card,” you asked, your voice soft but practical, as you glanced up at him.

You noticed his smile falter for the briefest moment, as if the question caught him off guard. “No…” His reply was gentle, almost embarrassed, and his eyes widened slightly when you wordlessly handed him a few of your coins.

“Here, take them,” you said, pressing the cold coins into his hand. His fingers brushed yours, warm and hesitant. “There’s a coin machine in the lobby—make sure to use it next time.”

His response was silent, but telling. You caught the faint dusting of pink on his cheeks deepening, the warmth of your simple touch amplifying the effect. His smile, a little sheepish, stretched wider, as if this small kindness meant more to him than you could have known. He didn’t say anything else, simply nodding his head in quiet thanks, his expression soft, almost grateful.

It was hard to ignore the way his entire demeanor shifted—how something about him seemed lighter now, more attuned to you. Like your gesture had unlocked something inside him.

“I’m assuming you don’t have detergent either, do you?” you asked with a playful sigh, grabbing your own bottle before he could answer. “Use mine. I hope you don’t mind floral scents.”

You began pouring the sweet-scented soap into both machines, the fragrant aroma filling the room. You didn’t look up at him right away, too focused on the task at hand, but when you finally did, you found him watching you—not in a way that felt invasive, but with a quiet, contemplative gaze. His eyes, hidden behind his tinted glasses, seemed locked on you, like he was seeing something… special. Something only he could notice.

“No,” Satoru replied softly, his voice calm and almost reverent. “I don’t mind… at all.” There was something different in his tone—an almost affectionate undertone, like the scent would remind him of this exact moment, of you. His heart beat faster, though his outward appearance remained composed, as if trying to keep something at bay.

The sunlight streamed through the window, casting a warm glow over the room, and as it hit your face, you became haloed in light, your movements graceful in their simplicity. To him, it wasn’t just the detergent or the coins or the smile. It was you—the way you moved, the way you looked at him without judgment, the way your kindness seemed to come so naturally.

That’s what you were. Sunshine. A soft, warm light in a world that, for him, often felt cold and distant.

His chest tightened slightly, not in a suffocating way, but in a way that made him want to keep you in his orbit just a little longer. Maybe he didn’t know much about you—yet—but there was a pull, a gravity you had, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to resist it. Your small act of kindness had stuck with him, dug into his thoughts in a way he didn’t expect. Maybe it was the ease of it, how you didn’t even hesitate to help him, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

He found himself wanting more of that warmth, more of you.

“Next time, be better prepared,” you said lightly, your voice snapping him out of his thoughts. You offered him a small smile, playful but warm, as you closed the detergent bottle.

“Next time,” he repeated softly, savoring the way those words sounded—like a promise of more to come. His smile was gentle, almost too sweet for someone like him, but there was something else behind it too. You couldn’t quite put a finger on it.

After you both finished with the laundry, you were about to give him a polite wave and go your separate ways. But as you turned to head back, Satoru didn’t just leave. Instead, he fell into step beside you with a light, almost bouncy stride, like there was nowhere else he wanted to be. His grin hadn’t faded, but there was something sharper about it now, a little too wide, a little too excited.

“What floor?” he asked, stepping into the elevator with an easy, practiced grace, like this was all a game he knew the rules to. His eyes—what you could see of them behind his tinted glasses—were trained on you, a flicker of curiosity sparking within them.

“Three, please,” you replied, adjusting your basket of clothes in your arms, not quite prepared for the way his expression lit up at your words.

“Oh, you’re kidding.” His voice came out soft, but there was an unmistakable note of giddiness underneath, a sort of delighted surprise that felt a touch too enthusiastic. “That’s my floor too.” His smile widened, a little too much, and he tilted his head as if waiting for the next punchline to land. “I’m in 301.”

You blinked, taking a moment to process before offering a polite smile. “I’m 302. You just moved in next door?”

For a second, he froze—his grin faltered, then returned twice as strong. A low, almost breathless chuckle escaped him, like he couldn’t quite believe his luck. Glasses sliding down slightly to reveal his bright blue eyes that sparkled with amusement. “Seriously? You’re that close? Right next door?”

He leaned back against the elevator wall, letting the revelation sink in, his gaze never leaving your face. It felt like he was studying you, absorbing every little detail—your expression, the way you shifted the basket, the exact moment your surprise faded into a more neutral reaction. His fingers tapped lightly against the side of his laundry basket, almost like he was containing his excitement.

“Well, isn’t that… something,” he murmured, more to himself than to you. The playful edge in his tone softened, replaced by something more thoughtful, more intent. “It’s almost like we were meant to run into each other today.”

His words hung in the air, the way he said them making your stomach flutter uneasily. He seemed more than pleased by the coincidence, and his smile—though outwardly harmless—felt like there was something deeper behind it, something intrigued and hooked.

The elevator doors opened, and he held the door for you, watching you with that same smile, now laced with quiet amusement. “After you, neighbor,” he said, his voice lighter, but still with that underlying edge of fascination.

You stepped out, feeling the weight of his gaze follow you down the hall. As you reached your respective doors, Satoru lingered, standing a little too close, his eyes tracing the outline of your door—302—like he was mentally noting it down, cataloging every detail.

“Well, I guess I’ll be seeing a lot more of you,” he teased, but the playful tone was almost too sweet, too easy. There was something in his gaze—sharp, calculating beneath the teasing exterior—that made it hard to shake the feeling that he was watching you in a way that was more than neighborly.

“Lucky us, huh?” he added, his voice dipping slightly, as though he was tasting the words.

You offered a small, polite laugh, trying to keep the conversation light. “Yeah… I guess so.”

He stood there for a beat longer than necessary, as though he was savoring the moment. His grin, still plastered on his face, now looked like a cat’s—playful, but predatory, like he had just stumbled onto something unexpected and wonderful. Something he didn’t plan on letting go of any time soon.

“See you soon, 302,” he said softly, before finally turning to his own door. But even as he disappeared into his apartment, you could still feel the lingering intensity of his presence.

Perhaps if you didn’t have such a need to help people, you wouldn’t have let him get too close.

But that’s what led to the next few weeks of constant, seemingly innocent requests from Satoru.

At first, it was small things. Harmless, right?

“Hey, did you accidentally get my package?” he asked, showing up at your door one morning with that same disarming grin. His glasses were perched on his nose, eyes sparkling with an almost childlike glint. You hadn’t, of course. You always kept an eye out for your own deliveries, but it was an easy mistake. The first time, anyway. It happened again a few days later. Then again. And each time, his grin seemed just a little brighter, as if this routine delighted him more than it should.

You began to wonder how much stuff he was ordering. Or if he was ordering anything at all.

Next came the plant.

“I’m out of town for the next few days,” he mentioned casually, leaning against your doorframe one evening. His posture was relaxed, but his presence was hard to ignore. The tinted glasses were gone this time, leaving you to face those brilliant blue eyes directly. They sparkled, drawing you in without effort. In his hands, he held the saddest little pot you’d ever seen—some limp, half-dead thing that looked like it needed a funeral rather than a caretaker. “Can you take care of this fella for me? Just water it a bit…dunno maybe talk to it? Plants like that, right?”

You raised an eyebrow, glancing at the pitiful plant. “This thing’s already half-dead.”

His grin widened, a soft chuckle slipping from his lips. “Yeah, well, if anyone can bring it back, it’s you. Sunshine.” He winked, his tone playful, but his gaze held you for just a moment too long. His words felt like more than a compliment, like he was testing you, seeing just how far you’d go for him. Just how close would you let him get? And somehow, you found yourself agreeing, even though you knew it was a lost cause.

Then came the bento boxes.

“Oh!” he exclaimed one morning, catching you just as you were heading out for work. His eyes landed on the small lunchbox in your hand, wrapped neatly in a blue cloth with a white bunny pattern. “You make your own bento boxes? That’s adorable.” His grin was almost teasing, his tone light, but there was a flicker of something else in his eyes. “Can you make one for me, too?”

You blinked, caught completely off guard. “I… what?”

“I’ll pay for the groceries,” he added quickly, as if that would fix the oddness of the request. “Actually, here—take my card.” Without hesitation, he pulled out his wallet and pressed a black card into your hand. His fingers brushed yours, lingering just a little too long, and his eyes gleamed with something unreadable. “Buy whatever you need. Go crazy.”

You stared at the card, unsure of what to say. “Gojo-sama, I really can’t—”

“Satoru,” he corrected smoothly, his smile never faltering. “No need for the formalities.”

You hesitated, feeling a warmth creep into your cheeks. You couldn’t just call him by his first name, right? You couldn’t just make lunch for him like you were… some kind of housewife, could you?

“Oh, sure you can!” His energy was relentless, sweeping over your hesitation like it didn’t exist. “Come on, it’s no big deal. You’re already making one for yourself, right? What’s one more?”

His voice was as light as always, the teasing playful, but underneath it was something that made you uneasy. He had inserted himself into your life so effortlessly, so quickly, that you barely had time to question it. Each favor seemed so small, so trivial—until they weren’t. Each one drew him closer, inch by inch, as if he was weaving himself into the fabric of your routine.

And the worst part? He made it all seem so casual, like he was just being a friendly neighbor. You could almost convince yourself that’s all it was. Almost.

So, bento boxes became part of your daily routine—unless, of course, Satoru told you he’d be out of town. Wouldn’t want good food to go to waste, right? You always carefully prepared them, even going as far as to cut a few vegetables into cute shapes: stars, flowers, little moons. But never hearts. You remembered him teasing you about that once, saying hearts were his favorite shape, followed by a playful wink. You’d laughed it off at the time, assuming it was just his usual charm, the same charm he probably used on the girls who left phone numbers scrawled on his palm. He had to have someone else in his life—a supermodel, perhaps, given how effortlessly handsome he was.

Yet... he never seemed happy about it. If anything, he seemed lonely. Whenever you talked, it felt like he craved more than just the conversation. It was in the way his eyes lingered on you, the way his entire body seemed to lean closer, like he needed something deeper, something that went beyond friendly banter or casual encounters.

And maybe that’s why you found yourself worried when he would disappear for days, even a week at a time. You tried to brush it off as his job—probably some business trip or other—but it gnawed at you, that feeling of absence. When he came back, though, he always brought something with him, some small trinket, a souvenir, like he needed to remind you of him even when he wasn’t around.

This time, it was a teddy bear. Soft, plush, with a bright "I ♥ Kyoto" shirt. You smiled when he handed it to you, though the way the bear’s eyes gleamed under the light made you feel uneasy for just a second—like they were watching. You tried to shake off the odd feeling. The gesture was sweet, after all. Satoru always put in effort, even if his gifts were sometimes... peculiar.

After the bear came the snack. A box of mochi, wrapped in temple paper, fresh from his trip. "Got these at a temple," he said casually, offering them to you with that charming smile. "They’re best before they get stale."

“You went all the way to Kyoto? For just a couple of days?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. “That must’ve been expensive... What do you do exactly?”

His laughter was quick, soft, as if your question amused him. “Oh, nothing too exciting. Just work.” He waved a hand dismissively, his tone light and playful, but still vague. Always vague.

You were used to it by now, his avoidance of direct answers. The more you asked, the less you felt like you actually knew about him. It made him seem almost too mysterious, in a way that kept you intrigued but also wary. Was he hiding something, or was he just playing around?

For a brief moment, you wondered if he could be involved in something shady. Maybe the Yakuza? But then you laughed at the thought. Satoru? Yakuza? He could barely keep a plant alive, much less run some underground empire. And besides, with his teasing and carefree attitude, he probably couldn’t harm a fly.

Still, the mystery lingered around him like a fog you couldn’t quite see through. Every time he dodged your questions with that casual grin, you felt like there was something you were missing, a deeper part of him just out of reach.

And as you set the teddy bear on your bed, you couldn’t shake the feeling that it, or perhaps he, was watching you. Waiting.

The next morning, you stood in front of Satoru’s door, barely awake, a small yawn escaping your lips as you lightly tapped on the doorframe. In your hands, you held his bento box, neatly wrapped in a blue fabric that almost perfectly matched the color of his eyes. You’d stayed up late preparing it, cutting the veggies into stars just the way you knew he liked. It had become part of your routine by now, but despite the growing sense of familiarity, something still felt... off. You couldn't quite put your finger on it.

The door swung open, revealing Satoru dressed in a dark blue uniform, his trademark blindfold wrapped tightly around his eyes. You’d seen him like this a few times before—though you never quite understood why he wore it. But then again, you never asked. You were certain he’d just brush it off with that same playful smile, teasing you without ever giving you a real answer. Still, sometimes the curiosity gnawed at you.

“I can already tell it’s going to be amazing,” Satoru said, his voice smooth and chipper as always, his lips curling into a smile. “Curry buns, right? You spoil me, Sunshine.”

When he reached for the bento, his hand brushed yours, lingering for a moment longer than necessary. His touch was warm, and it sent a subtle, unsettling tingle up your arm. You couldn’t tell if it was deliberate or just another one of his casual gestures, but the weight of his gaze—despite the blindfold—felt heavy.

“Oh?” His tone shifted slightly, almost as if he’d been waiting for the moment. “Do you mind if I use your phone really quick? I need to call my driver for work. My phone’s updating, and it’s taking forever... Did yours get that new update last night?”

You blinked, slightly confused. “Update? Uh, maybe... I don’t remember?” You handed him your phone without thinking too much of it. His smile widened as he took it from you, his fingers brushing yours again, lingering in that same, deliberate way.

He quickly dialed a number, bringing the phone to his ear while falling into step beside you. His stride matched yours perfectly, like it was second nature to him. As you both walked toward the elevator, you found yourself glancing at him from the corner of your eye. Satoru seemed perfectly relaxed, almost too relaxed, as if walking alongside you like this was just another part of his day. But something about the situation gnawed at the back of your mind. Had there really been an update? You couldn’t remember seeing any notifications about it.

Satoru spoke briefly into the phone, his voice low and calm. You couldn’t hear exactly what he was saying, but the way he effortlessly integrated himself into your space, always so close, always so present—it was starting to feel a little too comfortable for your liking. He handed your phone back with a casual smile as the elevator doors opened.

“Thanks, Sunshine,” he said, slipping his hand into his pocket. “You’re always saving me.” His tone was light, playful, but the way he said it, the way he always seemed to need you—whether for small favors or something more—it left a lingering unease you couldn’t quite shake.

“Do you need a ride?” Satoru asked, glancing over at you with that lazy grin that always made you feel a little warmer inside. “You work at that finance building next to the Lawson, right? My friend Nanami used to work there. Said the bosses are real assholes, but I heard they just got bought out?”

You paused, taken aback for a moment. How did he know where you worked? Maybe he’d seen your badge when you came home late or noticed it while you were passing by his door. You decided not to dwell on it, chalking it up to coincidence.

You shrugged, forcing a smile. “A ride? Hm... I don’t really mind taking the train. It’s refreshing, you know?” As you glanced down at your phone to check a quick email, you noticed a new app on your home screen. Was there an update last night? You had no recollection of it, but you pushed the thought away.

“I insist! My driver, Ijichi, won’t mind at all,” he urged, his tone bright and teasing. “Plus, it’s on the way to a meeting I need to be at. And speaking of which—how about dinner tonight? I actually used that coupon book you gave me.” He chuckled lightly, adding, “Not that I really need to save money, but it’s fun to try!”

Your heart fluttered at the thought, but you quickly shook your head. “Dinner? Oh, I don’t know, Satoru. I just got this new role at work, and I might have to stay late tonight.”

His grin wavered for just a heartbeat, and you could almost see the gears turning in his head. “Is that so? Surely you can get the night off for just one night. I mean, you work so hard cooking for me every night…” His voice took on a slightly softer tone, almost pleading. “Or maybe if it’s easier, could I start eating dinner with you?”

His eyes sparkled with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine, but you brushed it off. He was just being friendly, right? Satoru had always been a bit too eager to be around you, but you never thought much of it. You laughed, trying to lighten the moment. “I don’t know if I can handle cooking for two! You’re a big guy; I’d probably run out of food.”

Satoru leaned closer, his expression playful yet somehow serious, as if he were weighing your response. “Come on, I promise I won’t eat you out of house and home. Besides, it would be nice to have someone to share dinner with. I mean, I already take so much from you—like your delicious bentos.” His grin widened, but you could sense something else lurking behind his playful demeanor.

You shrugged, trying to keep things light. “Well, if you’re really going to be that much trouble, I guess I can let you join me for dinner now and then.”

“Great! I can’t wait,” he said, the eagerness in his voice almost unsettling. It felt like he was a bit too excited about it, and while it made you smile, there was an undercurrent of intensity that left you feeling a bit unsure. But then, you brushed it aside. Satoru was just a quirky guy who liked to joke around; he didn’t mean anything by it, right?

Once a night quickly led to every night—if he didn’t have to work late. You often wondered when this guy ever found the time to sleep. Yet, you found it oddly comforting to have him around, even if he was a little too clingy.

Each time he came over to your apartment, Satoru would fidget with your knickknacks, touching the stuffed animals that cluttered your couch and playfully harassing the plants on your windowsill. It felt innocent enough at first, but with every touch, you noticed how he seemed to absorb every detail of your space, like a sponge soaking in your essence.

You often caught him stealing glances at your photos, his eyes narrowing in concentration as if he were dissecting each moment. “Did you really travel there? It looks fun,” he’d remark, his tone light yet laced with something deeper—an interest that made your stomach flutter, but not entirely in a good way.

It started to feel odd, though—how did he know precisely what time you would be home? More importantly, how did he seem to always be waiting just outside your door, a lovestruck grin plastered across his face, as if he had been standing there for ages, anticipating your arrival? You brushed it off, convincing yourself it was merely a coincidence, but the uneasy feeling lingered, nestled in the back of your mind.

Daily rides to work became the norm, and sometimes after work, he’d bring over wine—something fancy you would chastise him for, telling him he needed to save money. But he always waved off your concerns with a teasing grin, “What’s money when I have you?” He’d chuckle, leaning a little too close, and you’d laugh it off, feeling your cheeks warm under his gaze.

Tonight was no different; the two of you were nestled on the couch, leaning in closer than usual, wine glasses in hand. Something felt off, yet you couldn’t pinpoint it as your vision began to swirl.

“I think I should call it a night,” you murmured softly, attempting to get up. Just as you started to rise, Satoru’s arm wrapped tightly around your waist, pulling you back against him. “Here, wait for the spins to go away. Just use me as support,” he said, his voice smooth like silk.

As you leaned against him, you couldn’t help but notice how solid he felt—his rock-hard chest seemed broader than before, radiating warmth that enveloped you. His smile was chilling, like the night sky, yet there was something darker lurking behind it. The conversations you shared flowed easily, but the intimacy felt different, tinged with a strange urgency that made your heart race for all the wrong reasons.

You tried to shake off the unease creeping in, but each time you brushed your fingers against the wine glass, it felt like he was watching you—really watching you, as if he could see straight through you. Was he?

You began to notice things shifting in your apartment. A new decorative item here, a small plant there. At first, you attributed it to your own absent-mindedness, but the more you looked around, the more it felt like he was leaving pieces of himself behind, integrating into your life in a way that felt oddly possessive.

When you glanced over at him, his eyes gleamed with that familiar spark, but it was mixed with something else—an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. “You know, sunshine,” he started, his voice dropping to a whisper, “I just want to make sure you’re safe. I care about you, you know?”

You chuckled nervously, attempting to lighten the mood. “I can take care of myself, Satoru.”

But the way he tilted his head, that playful smile transforming into something more fervent, made your heart race in a different way. “I know you can, but wouldn’t it be better if I helped? We could make a great team.”

You felt the weight of his gaze on you, an unwavering focus that made your skin prickle. “Yeah… a team,” you repeated, but the word felt heavy on your tongue.

“Let’s keep looking out for each other, alright?” He leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear.

And as the shadows of the room flickered with the light of the TV, you couldn’t shake the feeling that he was already doing just that—watching over you, waiting for the right moment to take the next step.

You were caught in his web, and every part of you warned that getting closer could lead to something dangerously intoxicating, but you couldn’t seem to pull away. Not like he’d let you either.

The world seemed to sway a bit more. Satoru's fingers deftly grabbed the wine glass from your hand and set it on the table, his movements fluid and deliberate, as if choreographed.

“You know, Sunshine,” he cooed softly, his voice a low murmur that seemed to vibrate in the air between you, “the world is a really dangerous place. There are monsters out there… really scary ones.” His gaze locked onto yours, and you felt your heart thud erratically in your chest, panic blooming in the pit of your stomach. You couldn’t move. Why couldn’t you move?

Satoru leaned closer, the space between you charged with an unsettling energy. “You’re so lucky that I just… that I just need you,” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. “You’re the only light I need.”

The intensity in his eyes deepened, and a chill ran down your spine as he continued, “You see, I let someone else leave me. I just can’t do that to you. Let you leave. Let you get hurt.” His lips curled into a soft chuckle, but it sounded dark, echoing with something sinister. “You’re kind of weak, you know?”

Your breath hitched at the weight of his words. “My best friend told me to always protect the weak... so I’m going to protect you for now, okay? We’re going to be a happy little family.” The way he said it felt like a promise and a threat, all wrapped in one.

Your eyes widened when you felt him tilt your chin up, forcing you to look directly into his lovesick gaze. His pupils were blown wide, and that wide smile on his lips sent a wave of dread crashing over you.

“Sunshine…thank you for lighting up my world. Letting me see how kind the world can be,” he murmured, the sincerity in his voice twisted with an almost manic glee. And before you could react, he leaned in, pressing his lips against yours with a fervor that knocked the breath out of you. The kiss was wet, sloppy, as if he had never kissed anyone before. He chased your lips with such fervor as if he was scared to lose you. This wasn’t just a kiss; as his hands held you closer, enveloping you within his warmth, this was a claim. A proclamation that he wasn’t going to let you go. His passion felt overwhelming, consuming, and you realized with a sinking heart that it was becoming increasingly difficult to breathe.

Your mother’s words rang in your mind, sharp and clear: “Never feed a stray; they’ll never leave.”

#jjk #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #yandere x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru #dark gojo satoru #yandere #soft yandere

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violestars · 5 months ago

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𝙡𝙚𝙩 𝙝𝙞𝙢 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙠 𝙄 𝙣𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙙 𝙝𝙞𝙢

𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: Sunday x male reader

𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮: childhood friends to best friends to nothing au, where rejecting your confession is worth more than the pain of infecting your perfect image with his sinful existence.

𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚: not proof read, !!only male readers!!

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: yandere-ish?,maybe ooc, mention of religion, implied homophobia, angst no comfort, just depressing.

𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙨: part 1, part 2

Your childhood friend is a rather confusing fellow, to the point where one would think his significant other, if he ever has one, is the type to do riddles for fun. You also love riddles but moreover, you love him. Can anyone blame you? You were consumed by these feelings in your undeveloped mind. Seven was the age you fell for Sunday, for the charming boy that is your childhood friend. Maybe it was just some puppy love between two foolish kids but no one can explain the bubbling excitement in your stomach whenever a barely visible pout was drawn on his face, whenever he uses sugar coated words to kindly ask others to leave you two alone or how his clinginess to you was shown so slyly. You were an equal to Sunday and it has left a sweet taste on your tongue till this day.

As you grow older, your mind started to question this fondness for him. You were taught love doesn't need any explanation but you aren't dumb, there are always reasons behind everything. Even the unknown comfort, warmness one could find in another is also a reason. You knew that because you have experienced it with Sunday but that wasn't your concern, for now at least. Deep down you knew this love for the other male wasn't merely a mystery, your relationship did not belong in those cheap romcoms you two would binge on a sunday night. Was it more evident on the day you went crying to him about your religious mother? Was it because of the warm hands that traced your cheeks, causing you to lean into such softness as he teased you with a coo? How you wished he could repeat his supposedly sin against his perfectionist family's belief was the attraction to the same gender, how the boyish smirk once he admitted how good rebellion feels.

School isn't your strongest suit and you beat yourself up for that, it also didn't help knowing your insecurity enabled the hatred from others. From family to friends, even strangers, their greatest gift to you was just pitiful stares. Sunday was different though, the soft smile that never fails to comfort you, the warm embrace of the only friend you can lean on, he was truly a breath of fresh air throughout suffocating days of school. The only subject you were good at is literature but the skills you've gained failed to form a clear answer to why your best friend has never doubted you. Asking him yourself only made the progress more complicated for both your mind and heart, as he flicked your head and told you about how much he worried more about your efforts than some silly printed texts.

“Your mind is built from poetry, not numbers, my little train-wreck.” You remembered his soothing voice right beside your ear, ignoring his ways with words and how it shaded your tear-stained canvas a light red, you let out a weak chuckle to lighten the mood.

“And yours is built of riddles. I'm not stable enough to solve one right now, Sun.” Your lighthearted response only brought him to laughter, a smile now placed onto your face as you silently hoped he would drop whatever sentimental words he just thought of since it was already as awkward as it could be. Who in their right mind would ask their best friend to climb through the bedroom window just because regrets were hitting too hard at 3 am? The guy has a controlling family for god's sake.

“You let people treat you so poorly just because of a subject, or it is everything about you throws them off. Why, though? You might think you're weird but I feel like you're just performing. A spectacular show that doesn't meet its audience, so desperately wants to be heard.”

As you thought you couldn’t drown yourself in thoughts of him further, this only deepened it. How you wondered if he actually has a third eye, silently guilding your thoughts to their respective docks. In your mind, he is the epitome of elegance, sometimes you wonder if the word is made specifically for him. Sunday is just perfect, while in one way he was expected to be due to being the adopted son of such a high status family, you felt like he doesn't even have to try. He handled stressful situations with ease, he joked it's you who taught him so with your antics. You two are the polar opposite, yet it felt like two puzzle pieces finding each other, different notes that falls in tune. You wondered how he tolerated everything throughout the years, not that you were complaining, it was just your anxiety often questions the authenticity of this friendship but as his hand cradled your face, the usual smile reserved for only you entered the view, you knew the dreams about him were real because Sunday adores you.

Unfortunately, your dreams crashed. You mentally cursed him for ruining everything, but it was not his fault he couldn't reciprocate those feelings, it was not his fault he is destined for greatness and you are the loser that existed. You knew you were being petty but it hurt how everything turned out to be a cacophony in disguise, how you two favored the full moon that night like the way you favored each other. Well, the way you favored him. Sunday wouldn't know all these shameful thoughts, you only nodded at his kind refusal with choked breaths after all. His frown only deepened once he noticed how tears sharp as the finest blade threatened to fall from your eyes and slice through his heart, but he didn't say anything. It hurts that your feelings were treated like a slipped word, a dumb accident, by both you and mostly him.

He knew you're worried, he was trained to be attentive to every change to his surroundings yet here he was, hands in a tight grip like how his thoughts were tied together in a messy knot. Sunday has been avoiding you, not right after the night of your confession though, he wasn't that cruel but he was evil enough to do it after reassuring you, hoping you would not throw away such unshakable friendship. Reason was, Sunday didn't know why he couldn't accept your love, he should have trust in every card he played, that was what they taught him.

It just tasted bitter. He isn't a saint, he hoped you also knew that, his mouth is filled with lies and his existence needs to be soaked in soap. In other words, Sunday is a freak of nature. Him and his sister were adopted to a rich family after the passing of their parents. Sadly enough, he still felt like nobody's son, his every step reminds him of walking on fragile ice under the threatening gaze of his so-called guardians but he still walks anyways. His sister, Robin, has her own dreams to fulfill and no one will dared to rewritte her role into another plaything for the Gods. That's why Sunday will carry all the burdens, the responsibility that will never be put onto Robin's freely spread wings and he works hard to keep it that way.

Sunday lived in this facade that is made of others' desires, he was a trapped bird that pretends to be an eagle, he felt like the strongest piece but never the mastermind. Unlike him, his darling was the salvation humanity carved for all their miserable life, you were the living proof that the lord heard his songs. You slowly metamorphosed into his only God though, Sunday believed his schemes were always concealed because he worshiped you. Sunday believed you didn't exist because he was only worthy of your afterimage. You were and are his 'father', his entire universe. He shamefully found himself praying to your name against the family's knowledge, images of your beauty embroidered in his mind rather than any flight of fancy.

But how Sunday loathed himself, how pitiful is he if everyone were starting to lead their own life yet he was still following a script, how unfortunate is he if the boy of his dreams felt like the vast sky from his cage. Why does one feel deep disgust within but still mindlessly follows the same path? He wanted to fly upward, to feel your touch but the sky is unreachable and so is you. Sunday knows his love for you like the back of his hand, it's more than the platonic feeling towards his sister and the ambition towards a perfect future, it's the only thing the family didn't plant into his mind at such a young age. His love for you felt like the only thing he could freely express.

You knew he wished to live in a dreamscape, where he would generate happiness for the unfortunates but you don't know this dreamland of his sprouted from the purest of love for you. Those troublesome worries won't reach you there, he swore upon his life that he would shield you away from this brutal world in your new home. You only laughed at his silly delusion though, you never wanted to live in a lie and he knew that clearly. Sunday envied that part of you, he detested how strong you are despite all attempts to drag you down but maybe that's what confirmed his feelings towards you.

You were able to confuse Sunday in the best way possible. You could sob about how ugly you are, complain about your failure of a life and hatred for reality but in the end, you didn't mean it. You wanted to live for the imperfect tomorrow, you wanted to erode a stone that is your destiny with him, with Sunday. Yes, that's what you are. So imperfectly beautiful as he's perfectly fake. That's why he would push you away, as unreasonable as his actions were, he will not taint your future and dirty your determination, this kaleidoscoping pain shall never reach your ears. Sunday doesn't want anyone to find out you're his weakness, he doesn't want to acknowledge you're the sweet reality to his pained dream. He was happily in your shadow even if he could catch a glimpse of your performance.

Sunday loves you so he will let you go.

#male reader #x male reader #honkai star rail #sunday hsr #sunday honkai star rail #sunday x male reader #sunday x reader #angst #hurt/no comfort #yandere male #yandere male x male reader #honkai star rail x male reader #gay #yaoi bl #violewritas

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girltomato · 5 months ago

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sweet girl: the first meeting

max verstappen x reader

warnings: alcohol mention, swearing, negative internal dialogue (?)

max's brain short circuits when he meets a beautiful woman

sweet girl masterlist

somewhere in europe, late summer 2021

Max very rarely went to sponsor events, he didn't really need to considering he was practically a walking billboard most days but he supposed free alcohol wasn't all too bad a compromise for having to socialise with strangers. He'd already had all the typical conversations, the how do you dos and nice to meet yous. Surely by now he had played his part, no one would really know if he just snuck out now.

His attempt at a subtle escape however was quickly trampled as he not so subtly collided with someone. Years of reaction training had his arms moving before his brain even registered the situation, grabbing onto a pair of shoulders as he steadied himself and the stranger in front of him.

"I am so sorry," he apologised, pulling his hands away from the shockingly beautiful woman in front of him. Just his luck, of course he embarrassed himself in front of an absolute ten.

A tinkling laugh distracted him from his misery, the woman's eyes lighting up as she giggled at him. Fucking hell, the earth could just swallow him up right now and he'd be grateful.

"Please don't apologise, it was my fault I wasn't watching where I was going." Her giggles quickly settled into flushed cheeks and an easy smile and she held out a hand to greet him, "I'm Y/n, nice to meet you."

Max quickly wiped his sweaty palms against his shirt before grabbing her smaller hand and giving it a polite, firm shake. God, her hands were soft, he didn't know skin could actually feel like silk, warm and buttery in his hand like it could melt if he held it too long.

"Uhh, Verstappen, Max, no wait, Max Verstappen. Nice to meet you too." he replied, his tongue tripping over his words, still gripping her hand. Oh God, he was gonna go home and lock himself away in his house and never go outside ever again, he thought as he forced himself to drop her hand.

An awkward silence fell between the pair as Max internally begged his body to cool his flushed cheeks and to stop fucking smiling to no avail.

“Sorry, I got in your way.” Y/n concluded, moving aside and gesturing towards the room as if giving him a signal to pass. Was he really going to walk away? If he could just calm down and get a grip, he had the chance to talk to the most beautiful woman he had ever laid his eyes on, with her pretty eyes and sparkly smile and her fruity perfume, raspberry he guessed.

A voice called her name from across the room, another woman waving her arms frantically, gesturing to join her at an overcrowded table.

“Um, I have to go. Nice to meet you, Verstappen Max.” she joked, a cheeky smile lighting up her face as took a step back, eyes holding onto his for just a second before she turned and glided over to her friend.

Max stood there for another minute, a statue in the midst of a bustling room before he finally broke out of his state of stupefaction and headed for the exit. Yeah, maybe locking himself inside and never speaking to another woman ever again was the right idea.

first written fic on this acc hello!! fighting the anxiety so hard rn and i am winning. max meets sweet girl for the first time and is a bumbling idiot, fork found in the kitchen. the response on the first smau was crazy i appreciate all the support so much, i actually dont have writers block for the first time in like 2 years so thank u very much internet strangers🤍

likes and reblogs are very much appreciated !!

#ׁ ׅ ❪ sweet girl universe! ❫ ⊹ ࣪#max verstappen au #max verstappen x reader #f1 masterlist #max verstappen fic #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen fluff #max verstappen smau #max verstappen scenario #formula 1 fanfic #f1 imagine #formula 1 fic #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #formula 1 smau #formula 1 x reader

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maybanksmusings · 2 days ago

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THE WALLS ; JJ MAYBANK

SYNOPSIS ; when an unknown face appears in the outer banks searching for a father she's never met, she's unaware of how her life is about to be completely turned upside down.

WARNINGS ; jjmaybank x routledge!reader, strong language, depictions of violence, afab!reader, sexual content, mentions of abuse, drug and alcohol consumption, strangers to lovers, fast burn to slow burn, canon adjacent, not proofread.

AUTHORS NOTE ; buckle up pookies, as this is merely part one of a multi-part fic that spans as far as the end of season three ( on the fence about season four but we will see ). as noted above, this fic will be canon adjacent, mainly focusing on the storyline as portrayed in the outer banks chapters of the 'netflix stories' mobile app. without any more of my yapping, i hope you all enjoy!

you can't help but squint once you step off the bus, your dollar store sunglasses doing very little to shield your eyes from the burning, outer banks sun. you bring your hand up in an attempt to further protect your eyes, needing to make your way to the seahorse hotel and fast.

a flash of long, blonde hair invades your vision, something you don't think twice about until the body attached to said hair knocks right into you, saturating your white tank top with her oversized cherry-coloured drink.

there's a beat of silence between both of you, behind darkened lenses your eyes bore into the girl before you. if looks could kill.

"shit! i am so sorry!" the blonde apologises, face turning as red as the newfound stain on your shirt. her hand darts out in an attempt to miraculously wipe the stain away "oh god, this is so embarrassing."

a part of you feels empathetic, it was an easy mistake to make in hindsight. another part of you wanted to push past the girl and continue getting on with your day.

"my name is sarah," she continues rambling, her hand still frequently scrubbing at the stain, making it worse "i didn't get your name, well no shit" the last part is barely a mumble, but you still catch it.

an unintentional laugh escapes you, finding amusement in her panicked awkwardness "if i tell you will you stop feeling me up?"

it was a joke, at least mostly, yet sarah froze in horror as the realisation set in. she was feeling up a stranger at the bus stop.

before she can begin rambling again, you speak up "my name is y/n." purposefully, you drop the surname. sure, sarah seemed sweet, but that didn't warrant spilling your life story at her feet.

sarah nodded in acknowledgement, taking a step out of your personal space and taking a proper look at you "touron?"

your face screws up, it feels like she just called you a name you couldn't repeat "excuse me?"

"you're a tourist, right?" sarah clarified, gesturing towards the scruffy backpack hanging from your shoulder.

"not quite," you trail off, unsure of how to broach your new arrival without dropping yourself in hot water "just, in town for a while."

"unlucky you.."

"unlucky how?"

sarah links her arm through yours, all but dragging you down the street alongside her "i'll fill you in on the way."

your protests and kidnapping allegations fell on deaf ears, only being told to stop being dramatic as she dragged you along. eventually, the dragging falls back into you willingly walking with her through pristine neighbourhoods that housed buildings like nothing you had ever seen.

you listened as sarah explained the outlandish rules that accompanied living on the island. the outer banks were essentially split in half, the kooks and the pouges, the haves and the have-nots, the sarahs and the y/ns.

when her pace eventually stalls, you have to tense your jaw to stop your mouth from falling open. you had seen some serious houses on the way here, but compared to sarahs they looked like dives.

"welcome to tanneyhill" sarah beams, but you can feel the uncertainty bubbling inside her as if she was embarrassed "come on, i'll show you my room."

you follow her through the glass doors and into the manor, eyes intently scanning the walls as you climb the staircase "you make a habit of bringing random strangers into your house?"

"do you make a habit of going home with random strangers?"

"depends if they're my type."

your quick rebuttal elicits a laugh from sarah as she pushes the door open, waving you into her room and heading straight for the closet "and what is your type?"

"you sweet on me, stranger?" you tease, your playful tone making it clear you were simply messing with her.

"with my whole heart, newbie" she laughs, the contents of her closet being dropped to the floor as she rifled through it "but our secret love affair must remain hidden as i am a taken lady"

with a dramatic gasp, you slap your hand to your chest and fall back on the bed "you wound me."

"sarah 'the heartbreaker' cameron is what they call me." as you're processing her surname, a white cropped tank is flung at you from the opposite side of the room "now, come on, boy talk"

"what if i wanna girl talk?" you question, holding the piece of fabric up to examine it "sarah 'the homophobe' cameron more like"

as she crosses the room to sit alongside you, sarah rolls her eyes "my sincerest apologies, sex talk then"

"cameron now i really think you want me." you wiggle your eyebrows at her, huffing when she hits you with a pink pillow with a sparkly 's' "hey! watch the rhinestones"

"you know, i was gonna try play matchmaker at the boneyard tonight but if you wanna be like that.."

"you just said a lot of words with very little meaning" you tut, not fully clued in on the outer banks slang.

by now you have risen to your feet, standing between the bed and the window as you changed into the clean shirt, balling up the stained one and stuffing it in your backpack.

"its a pre-storm rager on the beach, the one place kooks and pouges get along. we party as long as we can and when the storm hits, run for cover"

you're only half listening to sarah, instead your attention hones in on the head of curly brown hair down on the dock as it moves along a boat named 'my druthers'.

you barely register the figure by your side, watching just as closely as you were as the brunette is joined by three others, laughing and joking.

"that would be john b," without looking you can hear sarahs grin, mistaking your fascination for attraction.

"routledge?" your mouth opens before your brain can stop it, you knew who it was, but you needed to hear it.

"you know him?"

finally, your brain catches up and you somehow manage to pull a lie out of your ass "not personally, saw him on tv. some appeal for his dad."

sarah bellows out a soft, sad sigh, letting her thoughts be known without saying a word. there's an unspoken air of silence between you, until sarah, literally, shakes it off and stands upright again.

"wanna meet him?" the blonde offers, despite the fact its more of a demand as you're being dragged along once again.

only this time your refusal is much clearer, practically begging the girl to let you go before she managed to get you out into the yard. again sarah is misreading the situation, interpreting your panic as awkward butterflies.

your demands persist, though much quieter as you're dragged further down the dock, closer to john b and his friends.

"hello, ladies" john b's blonde friend greets with a low whistle and a cheeky grin, shamelessly checking both you and sarah out.

for a moment your anxiety vanishes, your entire nervous system sparking still but for different reasons. this might be the most beautiful boy you've ever set eyes on.

this. this was your type.

"you're new" he speaks, gesturing towards you "that's for sure, yet to be a time i've forgotten a face like that." with a wink, he takes your hand to place a kiss on the back of it.

you curse god. why couldn't you have met this guy somewhere else? why wasn't he the blonde stranger that took you home?

"you done macking on the kook?" a girls voice echos from behind him, her words and her expression dripping with disgust as she eyed you.

"i'm not a kook." you bite back, sightly too aggressive for a first impression but you couldn't help it with the look of clear disdain embedded on her face.

sarahs arm links through yours, a mumbled "easy, newbie" falling only on your ears "y/n is new in town, i brought her down here while i found out what you guys are doing on my dads boat." despite her civility there's a challenging edge in her voice.

"lest ye forget, i work here."

john b, suddenly emerging from the ships hull and hurling a snide smile in sarahs direction. you had only ever seen him on fuzzy news broadcasts, he was taller than you had anticipated, confrontational too.

though, genetics could explain that one.

"can we help you?" the girl speaks again, sending your eyes rolling as you face john b.

"can you tell your guard dog to stand down? last i checked one of us was invited here and funnily enough it wasn't her"

you hear another boy mumble an excited "cat fight!" to your new, blonde, hyperfixation as they exchange money on bets.

"seriously? i expect this shit from jj but pope? disappointing" john b tutted, sounding like a disappointed father as he got off the boat "not looking for trouble, just bringing back the diving shit, full."

menial conversation is exchanged between sarah and john b, though your attention mainly resides with the newly named jj. he was leaning back against the boat, rolling a joint without a care in the world.

you try to keep the glances to a minimum, after all you had much bigger problems to wade through right now, but you simply couldn't look away. he was the definition of magnetic.

even when he catches you looking, there isn't a morsel of awkwardness, just a knowing look of curiosity that lingered far longer than it should have.

then, he winks. he fucking winks before returning to rolling with that stupid, insanely hot grin on his face. you were far from shy, and only for the audience around you, you would've jumped on him long ago.

any reckless ideas potentially coming to fruition is spoiled when sarah, still linked with you, retreats back toward tanneyhill. with a final glance back at jj, you hold your thumb and pinky to your ear and mouth 'call me', earning yourself a wink and a crossed heart in return.

maybe this wouldn't pan out to be a total shit show after all.

#maybanksmusings #jj mayback x reader #jj maybank smut #jj maybank x reader #jj obx #jj maybank #outer banks #obx #obx 4 #obx season 4 #kiara carrera

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reallyromealone · 1 year ago

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please can you do a story with Kirishima, he is so cute, it could be a cute and hot topic where the male reader is Bakugou's brother

He does deserve a much and I'm here to give him some romance!

Kirishima didn't even know Bakugo had a brother, the explosive blond never talking about his family, the other Bakugo sibling having to come along to family night at U.A and clearly didn't want to be there as the Bakugo parents praised Katsuki.

"Hey! I'm kirishima, nice to meet ya!" He said happily to (name) who looked at him suspiciously "uh hey" he looked uncomfortable at the red head who seemed to burst with happiness "why aren't ya hanging with the others?" Kirishima asked as he sat beside (name) on the bench, the other sighing "and see my brother be the better sibling more? No thanks" it wasn't a secret that Bakugo wanted the attention and always made a point to be on top, it was also something (name) experienced his whole life"

"What do you mean?"

"I'm the younger brother of the one who got into U.A, I don't have a cool quirk-- hell I don't even have my parents quirk I have my grandfather's quirk! I just didn't want to be here so my parents could point at how much better he is" (name) didn't know why he was trauma dumping to the stranger or why the other looked at him with so much emotion.

"Wanna go for a walk?"kirishima offered and (name) didn't know why but he agreed, letting the other lead him around campus, Nedzu watching through the cameras happily.

(Name) snort laughed as kirishima did a silly run with his quirk activated "what even is that?!" How this person was bakugos brother was beyond Kirishima but he wasn't complaining, (name) was an absolute sweetheart once you got passed the awkward and rough exterior.

"It made you laugh did it not?" He smiled and (name) rolled his eyes "thanks... You didn't have to do this"

"It would be unmanly to leave you by yourself, besides a chance to show a cute guy how manly I am is an opportunity I won't waist"

"You think I'm cute?" (Name) asked as they stopped walking and kirishima blushed "uh, yeah... I wanted to talk to you since I saw you and God this sounds so stupid"

"I think you're pretty cute too"

Kirishima looked at (name) dumbfounded and (name) continued"maybe... We could go out sometime? Unless you're the type who needs to do the asking out"

"No! I mean yes! Dang, I mean I would love to go out with you!"

(Name) gently kissed his cheek "we should probably head back, it's almost 9pm"

"Yeah..."

"Walk slow?"

"Like a turtle!"

#male reader #x male reader #bnha x male reader #bnha x reader #mha x male reader #mha x reader #kirishima x reader #kirishima x male reader #fluff #anime x male reader #anime x reader

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darl-ings · 3 months ago

Text

midnight radio | jeon wonwoo

pairing: wonwoo x reader

genre: fluff, college au

warnings: none

word count: 2390

summary: in which you are a new host for your school’s midnight radio broadcast and wonwoo makes a call to the show

a/n: this has been in my drafts since 2021…

“Good evening, everyone. Welcome to KU’s Midnight Radio. The song you just heard was Sabrina Carpenter’s Bed Chem. I’m Y/N, your host for this semester. As you may know, Midnight Radio is usually hosted by Soonyoung Kwon, or DJ Hoshi, our favorite eccentric dance major, but he’s studying abroad in Japan right now, so I’m here to host the show for him until he comes back in January.

“You know, I’m actually not that nervous right now, even though I’m alone. I don’t know if any of you know me, but I hosted the show with DJ Hoshi and DJ Hong for a bit during last fall semester. I had a great time since I got to chat with my fellow peers during the late hours of the night. By the way, I hope you’re all having a good night so far. The first week has been really hectic for me, so I’m sure it was for a lot of you too. Make sure to get some rest. After the show, of course.”

You winked at the camera filming you, watching as the comments of the show’s Twitch stream began flooding in. You leaned forward, squinting your eyes to read them.

“Welcome, welcome. I see a few song requests, so I’ll make sure to play some of those later. Does anyone want to have a chat? The number is in the pinned comment if you guys want to talk. I get it if you don’t want to though. I’m having a pretty good time by myself.”

It took only a few moments for the phone to light up next to the laptop. A grin appeared on your face as you reached out to answer it, pressing the speaker button before leaning back to get comfortable in your chair.

“Name and social security number please,” you joked, crossing your arms over your chest as you smiled over to the camera.

“Wonwoo, 738203830,” the voice answered back, causing you to gasp.

“Did anyone get that? Surely someone wrote that down,” you asked, grinning happily as you leaned forward to read through the flood of comments. “Some people caught that number, Wonwoo. Anything to say for yourself?”

“I’m sorry to Kim Mingyu for outing his social security number,” the person stated, his seriousness making you laugh. The person on the phone chuckled too. “It’s not his actual number, by the way.”

“I’d hope not. If we’re thinking of the same Kim Mingyu, I’m positive he wouldn’t let you live another second if you gave that information away,” you laughed again, thinking about your good friend, Mingyu.

“You’re right. Do you know him? Tall, good cook, thinks he’s good looking?”

“I do, but I’m not going to fuel his already big ego by talking about him during the show.”

“Good idea.”

“So, Wonwoo. Tell us about yourself. Anything interesting going on?” you asked, anticipating the stranger’s answer. Wonwoo hummed to himself in thought.

“My name is Wonwoo. I live off-campus with a few of my friends, Mingyu included. My major is--”

“Sorry to cut you off, Wonwoo, but if I have another awkward conversation about majors my head might explode. I said tell me something interesting! What are you doing right now?”

“Oh thank God, I wasn’t ready to have someone ask what classes I take and why I choose KU as my school. I hate when they ask that, by the way. Why do they care so much?” he questioned, making you chuckle.

“They don’t care. They’re just trying to fill the awkward silence with an awkward question.”

“Right. Well, what am I doing right now? Hm, I’m in my room watching your stream and talking to you. Mingyu’s cooking ramen for our other roommate Vernon, so I might steal some of it when he’s done making it.”

“It’s the right thing to do. But also, why are they cooking so late? It’s 11:30pm right now.”

“Vernon skipped dinner to go to the Asian-American club meeting. He’s one of the club leaders so he had a lot to do tonight.”

“That’s the best club on campus, by the way,” you pointed out to the camera. “Anyway, did you want to talk about anything, Wonwoo?”

“Hmm, let me think of something interesting. Should I ask an academic or existential question?” he asked, your eyebrows furrowing as you thought.

“While I do love existential questions, I think since it's the end of the first week of school, we should talk about academic things. Don’t make it boring though. Maybe some advice?”

“Advice is a bit boring though…”

“I could just ask the next caller…”

“How do you get close to your peers?” Wonwoo quickly asked, making the smile on your face soften. “I mean, maybe we could give a few tips on making friends?” he suggested. You nodded along, clapping your hands gently.

“I like that, yeah. I know a lot of people, including myself, who had or are currently having a hard time getting close to others. Are you the same, Wonwoo?”

“I am.”

“Really? You don’t seem like it. We’ve had a good conversation so far, I think.”

“Yeah, but it’s easier to talk when you’re not face-to-face with the person, you know?”

“That’s true. Maybe that’s why I feel so comfortable talking to a stranger right now.”

“Maybe… Look, I know we said we weren’t going to talk about Mingyu, but he’s a good example for our question. He’s a talkative person, right?”

“Very talkative.”

Wonwoo laughed. “I met him halfway through my sophomore year. He was a freshman but he was more popular than anyone I knew. He came up to me in the cafeteria when I was eating alone and just struck up a conversation with me. I’m surprised he didn’t stop talking to me after that since I was very quiet and gave him short answers. He’s my best friend now, so I’ve witnessed a lot of encounters when he just goes up to someone randomly and talks to them. We went to the grocery store earlier today and he just started a conversation with a worker in the bread aisle…” Wonwoo paused for a few moments, a soft sigh escaping his lips. “I guess I’ve always wanted to have his voice. Not like–not his actual voice, but his ability to talk to anyone and keep them interested.”

You hummed at Wonwoo’s words, eyes on the comments as you spoke. “It seems a few listeners have friends like this too. But, yeah, I get it. My friend Yuqi is very extroverted as well. I wish I could make friends as easily as her, but also, I can tell it’s exhausting for them to talk so much. I don’t know about Mingyu, but Yuqi comes back to our apartment after a party and immediately crashes. She pushes herself to talk to all these people, but it just tires herself out. I’m sure if I tried to be that extroverted, I would probably die.”

“Same. I remember after my freshman orientation week, I slept for twenty-seven hours straight. I was going to sleep for more, but my roommate at the time called the on-campus police saying he thought I was dead.”

“Twenty-seven hours? Jeez, you practically were dead! But seriously, talking to people is so exhausting. Especially during freshman orientation! The amount of people I talked to during then was more than I’ve talked to in my entire life.”

“Of all those people I met, I only talk to one of them today. All of it was pretty pointless, but I’ve heard some people meet their best friends during that first week.”

“Yeah, I met a few of mine during then too. But, anyway, back to the question. How do you get close to people? Well, my advice is to remember that whatever you’re insecure about, whether it's your personality, your body, whatever, it does not matter. When you’re meeting someone, don’t focus on the negative things, like if you’re making a fool of yourself or if you look bad. No one cares that much, and if they do, they aren’t a good friend.”

“This is why it took me so long to make friends. I always felt that no one was listening to me when I spoke, so I convinced myself that I had nothing important to say. But my friends now teach me that my voice matters. Vernon especially. He doesn’t talk much, to begin with, but when he does everyone focuses on him, because we care about what he has to say. And when I talk, everyone looks at me and I feel like they’re listening.”

“That’s important, by the way! Make eye contact when you’re speaking with people. I feel so shitty when people aren’t looking at me while I’m talking. I always trail off and just stop talking. Make eye contact, and don’t multitask when someone is talking to you. It’s rude.”

“Don’t get me started on that. I hate when people are doing other things during a conversation, especially if we’re talking about something deep or important. And I really hate when people don’t listen to me after I just listened to them.”

“Please, everyone, listen when people talk. My self-esteem gets so low when people don’t listen to what I have to say. So please, listen to people and be active in the conversation.”

“Being active in the conversation is really important.”

“Exactly. So, in conclusion, listen, be active, and make eye contact. If you make people feel good while you’re talking, they’ll want to talk to you more,” you stated while pointing at the camera with a stern look on your face. You heard Wonwoo chuckle, causing your hand to falter. “Why are you laughing?”

“You’re just cute,” he answered simply, causing a blush to spread across your cheeks. You looked away from the camera, suddenly feeling very shy. “Wow, really? All it took was calling you cute to stop you from talking?”

“It caught me off guard,” you whined slightly, hiding your face with your hands. Wonwoo laughed at your reaction, causing a wide smile to fall on your lips. You removed your hands from your face, smiling at the phone. “Did Mingyu finish making the ramen?” you asked, resting your arms on the table.

“Yeah, a while ago.”

“What? Why didn’t you go eat it?”

“Because I was talking to you. But I should go now. I think they’re watching Single’s Inferno without me.”

“Alright, Wonwoo,” you pouted slightly, sighing as you traced your finger on the table’s wood.

“Don’t sound so disappointed, Y/N,” Wonwoo chuckled softly. It was embarrassing how easily a stranger could make your cheeks redden. The conversation with Wonwoo was the best one you’ve had in a while, and you were sad to end the call.

“I’m not,” you denied, sitting up to scoot closer to your laptop. You read through a few comments before speaking up. “The people don’t want you to leave.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” you answered, reading a few more comments. “Someone said you should co-host the show with me,” you giggled.

“That sounds fun. Maybe I’ll look into it for you.”

“Don’t be cheesy,” you muttered with a smile, switching your laptop tabs from the Twitch stream to your Spotify. “Before you go, any song requests?” you asked, trying not to sound sad as you spoke. Wonwoo hummed in thought.

“I’ve been listening to SUHO’s album recently, Self-Portrait?”

“I love that album,” you smiled.

“It’s really good. Could I request a song from it?”

“Of course.”

“Okay… maybe, Let’s Love,” Wonwoo suggested, your heart doing a million flips as you typed the song into the search bar.

“I’ll make sure to play it next. Thank you for this lovely conversation, Wonwoo. Eat well tonight and get some rest,” you stated. “Tell Mingyu to make me ramen sometime, too.”

“Will do. Thanks for talking with me, Y/N. Goodnight, sleep well after the show.”

The line ended shortly after, a sad smile resting on your face. You sighed, looking back to the camera with a wider smile.

“Now, I will be playing Wonwoo’s song request. It’s one of my favorites off the mini-album, Self-Love. This is Let’s Love, by EXO’s SUHO.”

You held two more shows on Saturday and Sunday night, silently wishing Wonwoo would call again. You had good conversations with other students, but none were as riveting as the one you had with Wonwoo. It was probably easy to search him up, and you contemplated doing so during your free period between classes on Monday as you sat in the campus cafe with Yuqi across from you. Your finger hovered over the Instagram search button, where you had typed in Wonwoo’s name, but to avoid being a creep, you exited out of the app and placed your phone on the table.

“Dude, found your mystery man,” Yuqi spoke up, causing you to nearly spit out your drink. You looked up at her, raising your eyebrows in confusion.

“What?”

“Wonwoo, that guy you talked to during the show on Friday. He’s in Mingyu’s recent post. They went to some water park,” Yuqi stated, still scrolling through her phone. “They all have really good bodies…” she trailed off, staring dreamily at her screen.

“Are you not going to show me?” you questioned, leaning forward to look at her phone. She giggled at your eagerness, turning her phone to face you.

In the photo, Mingyu was standing next to three other guys, including Minghao, who was a partner of yours in your Photography class. You tapped on the picture, revealing the tags of the others standing with them. There was a person tagged vernon_98, who you immediately identified as the Vernon that Wonwoo talked about during your call. Which meant, the other person tagged as everyone_woo was Wonwoo.

You blinked at the picture, taking in the visuals of your mystery caller. You noted his black hair and his glasses which made him look surprisingly good. You blushed slightly at how the wet suit he wore was tight against his muscles, revealing his large biceps and pecs. He held up a peace sign, your eyes trailing to his hand. He was so incredibly handsome, and you just had a conversation with him like it was nothing.

“Oh my God,” you muttered. “He’s hot?!”

#jeon wonwoo imagines #wonwoo imagine #jeon wonwoo #wonwoo #seventeen imagines #seventeen college au #svt imagine #seventeen drabbles #svt x reader #jeon wonwoo x reader

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