#first strike was not looking like you're paying attention

[xinganhao]

🧢 seokmin x pitching instructor!reader.

take me out to the ball game, take me out with the crowd ♫ the one where seokmin took lessons for his pitching... only to still update you with his progress even after your sessions have ended. inspired by this tweet. short headcanons + bonus content under the cut.

⚾️ let me root, root, root for the home team .ᐟ

IT'S ONE...

there's a handful of things that seokmin really, really loves outside of his idol life, and most of them have to do with baseball. the fit of a new cap on his head. the satisfying crack of the ball against a bat. the sun beating down on him as he steps up to the pitcher's mound. that's why his smile is incandescent when he arrives at your first lesson— it's going to be a good day. he can feel it in his bones. "hello! i'm lee seokmin. we talked over text," he greets you, all dimpled grin and boyish charm. when you ease him in to your coaching, he finds himself zoning out a little more than usual. once or twice, you have to repeat your question for him, because he'll snap back to attention with a sheepish 'huh?' and an apologetic chuckle. he doesn't quite know why he's so distracted. he resolves to do better in future lessons. (the answer: seokmin got busy watching you pitch.)

TWO...

seokmin is pouting at his phone like it has personally wronged him. he knows you can't see him, but you can probably feel the downturn of his mouth through his texts. because what do you mean, you deleted his number?! he's scandalized. heartbroken. this is probably one of the worst things that has ever happened to him, he laments. i mean, sure, he can see the rationale for you deleting your students' numbers after they're done with training. you had dozens of tutees, after all. seokmin, though, is your self-proclaimed favorite. isn't he? he grumbles a bit to himself as he jams out a couple more emoji-laden responses to you. he can't place why he's so upset over something so minor. he chalks it up to the fact that he's always been dramatic, anyway. (the answer: seokmin hadn't wanted you to forget him.)

THREE STRIKES, YOU'RE OUT!

this is one of those things seokmin doesn't think he'll ever forget— the look on your face when he smugly hands you a paper bag of merchandise he bought from the MLB. he doesn't mention the fact that he had to pay extra luggage fees just to haul all of it back home for you. it's a small concession to make if the prize is your disbelieving laugh and your giddy smile. the two of you are out for dinner and he's regaling you with tales of his trip, play-by-plays of the games he watched live. for the most part, you're the perfect audience. but, then, at one point— you playfully nab the dodger's cap atop his head before trying it on for yourself. "how do i look?" you tease, tipping the visor down over your eyes. he feels something, then, something that he can't put into words. so all he does is chase you down the sidewalk, the two of you laughing all the way. (the answer: seokmin felt like you'd done a home run on his heart.)

BONUS CONTENT .ᐟ

[impval]

Hi! I just found your tumblr, and i absolutely love your Cate fics and your writing style. It's absolutely beautiful! Anyway, I was wondering if I could request a Cate x fem!reader?

Reader is basically spiderman? Has the all of Peter Parkers cannon abilities (super strength, enhanced speed and durability, etc) and she's super smart and has built her own webslingers?

Anyway, R is best friends with Jordan and they have a friendly competition for #2 going and have for ages now. Jordan has always known R has feelings for Cate and has tried to encourage her to do/say something?

Cate has always had feelings for R but is afraid to pursue R because of her powers? Anyway, maybe there's an attack on the school and R is one of the first people to act and saves Cate but gets really hurt in the process, so afterwards, Cate hovers and tries to take care of R to 'make up' for it? It leads to them finally talking, properly?

I'm sorry this is so much, and please don't feel like you have to take the request if you don't want to and/or if it's too much!

"Pay attention, bro."

The hand barely brushes against your cheek in the nick of time, a cocky smirk pulling at the corners of their lips.

Even the most miniscule of their movements are swift, and their blows powerful and strong.

Jordan's smirk grows when they realise what (or who) exactly has your attention. "Aww, look at you watching her like a little puppy."

"Shut up," you said, blocking their next strike and shoving them backwards, "And get out of my business."

You were not, in fact, paying attention. Not to anything that mattered, anyways. Jordan could hit you square in the jaw, and you'd barely even notice. No, your attention was focused on the blonde standing a little too close to Andre, and you could feel your jaw clenching involuntarily before you forced yourself to relax your features.

She was your friend, just your friend, and it was so dumb that you had feelings for her. Your crush was so stupid and pathetic and so, so pointless.

Jordan chuckled, easily evading your attack as they danced around you in the ring.

While you enjoyed a bit of good-natured banter - the way they knew about your crush just made your skin prickle and itch and all you wanted to do was throw your hands up and admit it. But, what a stupid idea was that?

"You're distracted," Jordan hummed, "You keep looking over at Catie. You're like a cartoon character, hearts for eyes and everything"

"I am not." You were. You absolutely were. But it was hard to care when Cate was all laughs and giggles and pretty grins directed at Andre, who seemed to be blissfully ignorant. You hated Andre.

It was stupid, stupid, stupid. You knew it, which was why you had been avoiding her as much as humanly possible until it was entirely impossible, which is how you found yourself here, attempting to spar with Jordan and entirely unable to focus because every time you chanced a glance in Cate's direction, your brain would immediately lose all functionality and you would promptly have to duck out of the way of a oncoming punch.

Cate, who was talking to Andre with a smile on her face. Like she was actually enjoying his company. It's not like it was rational, either. Andre wasn't anything you should be worried about. He was in a relationship with Luke for fuck's sake.

Your spider-sense was a godsent during times like these. You shoved that last thought away with such force that you almost missed Jordan's next blow - managing to stumble to the side just in time.

"She's just talking to Andre. "Jordan glanced over their shoulder, "Seriously? You jealous?"

Cate had one hand on his arm, laughing at something he had said. What the hell was so funny?

"Bro," honestly, they thought you were both hopeless, "It's not like she's out of your league or anything. She would say yes. Your just a chickenshit."

You knew why you hadn't asked her out yet.

For one, for all you knew, she wasn't even into girls. Second of all, what if she wasn't interested in you?

"Oh, and this is coming from you," you shot back, "Who only admitted your feelings for Marie after you slept with her. And you didn't even remember it the next morning because you were fucking drunk. And stop calling me bro."

They managed to smack you right in the mouth and you stumbled backwards, nearly falling flat on your ass if you wasn't for your steady, spidery, balance.

"You got me. But at least I asked her out after that, huh? Bro."

Oh, you little shit..

In fact - Jordan had grown so sick of it they were actively planning how to lock you in a closet with Cate just so you would stop making a fool of yourself.

"Honestly," Jordan said, dropping their fists, "How long are you two going to keep this up for? Watching you pine is worse than watching those reality shows that Andre watches just to make fun of them."

"I don't know." You looked miserable, like a lost puppy without a bone or something.

Oh, God.

Jordan swore.

"Nope," Jordan grumbled, already grabbing you by the shoulder, "Hell no. You are not allowed to be mopey. That's not allowed. I can deal with the whole pining thing. I can deal with the whole 'I'm-in-love-with-Cate-but-can't-admit-it-bullshit'. But this?" Jordan raised an unimpressed eyebrow, pushing you out of the ring.

"What, can't deal with a sad bro?" you grumbled, rolling your eyes but allowing them to usher you out of the makeshift ring. Andre was still talking to Cate, who for some reason, never looked your way.

"What are you going to do? Console me? That's not really your thing."

Emotional support? Nope, never. That wasn't something Jordan usually did.

But Jordan seemed to be going through some sort of emotional awakening with their super mature girlfriend, who honestly was a little too mature, in your opinion. She was always so insightful and calm, and you never understood that since Marie grew up in an fucking orphanage.

Twenty minutes later, showered and changed, you reluctantly met Jordan outside the locker room. You had to admit, though, that for once, Jordan was actually trying to get you to feel better rather than just being their usual smug self and it was... nice.

Apparently, the best idea of ​​comfort in Jordan's head was a movie night with them and Marie. A movie night. Because that's what you needed. Not some time alone to wallow in your self-pity.

Surprisingly, Jordan’s plan of forced comfort seemed to work. The action movie provided plenty of mindless entertainment to keep you from thinking about Cate.

It was good night, you had to admit later. Jordan was never one for touchy-feely emotions. So it was... different, to be snuggled in with them, Marie on Jordan's other side, watching some cheesy film and eating an pizza.

And you even managed to get through the night without once thinking about Cate. It was a record. A personal milestone of sorts.

Except the next day wasn't so kind to you.

Cate's ability to exert mind control was insane, but it only worked when she was in physical contact with the person she wanted to push. So despite her power, Cate fell under the support category, even if she was one of the most powerful students here. So, you shared only one class.

It was the stupidest class - the required 'Heroes and Society' class that all of the students hated but had to attend anyways. Usually, you and Cate shared the class with Marie, but she managed to wriggle her way out of it somehow today. What a coincidence.

You tried really, really hard not to think about how you were going to spend a good hour sitting in close proximity to Cate. With no one else to act as a buffer.

"Hey," a cheerful voice pulled you from your thoughts, and you found yourself looking up at the girl who plagued your mind.

And it was worse, the fact that she seemed so cheerful and happy to see you as she slid into the seat beside you. The fact that she leaned in close enough that you could feel the heat coming off her body, that she smelled faintly like something sweet, that she looked at you with those beautiful blue eyes and smiled.

"Hey," you said back, trying to keep your tone casual. "You ready for this boring shitshow of a class?"

"Are any of us ready?" Cate retorted with a roll of her eyes, glancing up to see the professor walking in.

She was wearing her usual black gloves. Cate knew the way people were scared of her and wore her gloves to quell their fears (and her own) - to help people see her and not some terrifying, mind-controlling supe.

You hated her gloves. You even had told her that, once. You'd been high off your ass and had gotten all philosophical, about how everyone had the potential to be dangerous.

"Yeah, because I'm totally gonna remember whatever bullshit this guy is spewing for my final," you mutter, running a hand through your hair.

Students were zoned out, ignoring the professor as they either drew in their notebooks, or chatted quietly or scrolled through their phones.

You worked with the web shooters on your wrists, checking that they were still in place and not broken, when Cate suddenly spoke.

"Another update?" she asked.

You always found yourself looking forward to her asking about you latest technology. Because you could tell she was genuinely interested, that she wasn't just asking out of politeness, and even better, she understood it so talking to her about it was always a million times better than talking to anyone else.

"Yeah," you mumble, fiddling with the wrist of the left shooter, trying to fix a loose screw you must have missed from your last patrol. "I need more adhesive. And the new cartridges don't hold as much webbing as the last ones, so I'm a little worried I'll run out in the middle of a fight…"

God, you were going to blather on forever if she didn't stop you. But you couldn't help it - you loved talking about the latest improvements to your suit.

And you were so cute when you did, and Cate couldn't help the stupid little smile tugging at her cheeks. Listening to you talk about your suit and the upgrades you were making to it was honestly one of her favorite things - probably because she loved the look in your eyes when you were passionate about something and because she was also lowkey obsessed with your tech.

"How much webs do you keep on you?" she asked, leaning her chin on her hand, watching you work.

Your cheeks heated a little under her gaze, but you forced yourself to continue working, forcing all your focus into the web shooter that you were trying to fix. You couldn't let yourself get distracted. Not when she was so close.

"Not enough," you admitted after a moment's hesitation. "I think I brought twelve in each shooter."

Cate laughed a little under her breath, amused that you kept losing yourself while you were with her. Because you did. You constantly found yourself staring at her, tripping over your own damn feet. You were a total disaster around her.

"You're going to end up swinging around the city when you lose all your webs," she teased, gently bumping her knee against yours. "Then you'll just be a useless little spider."

She was always careful about her touch, it was something you'd noticed early on. She rarely touched people for more than what was necessary. Which was why every time she brushed you, the small amount of contact was like a jolt to your system. You were a mess everytime because of it.

But you had enough sense left to roll your eyes dramatically.

"Oh come on, I'm not that bad," you said, feigning annoyance. "When I was first starting out, yeah. I kept running out of webbing mid swing and crashing into people. But that hasn't happened more than...I don't know, two times in the past six months."

Cate wasn't stupid. She was a very observant. She'd noticed that you'd been pulling away from her, and sure, you always had an excuse about being busy, or having something else to do, but you were a terrible liar.

"I doubt anyone in the dorms has been able to forget the sounds of you slamming into the window like a goddamn bird."

Ooch.

You flinched at the memory of the time you smacked into the side of the building directly outside Jordan's window. It had been loud for sure. And embarrassing as hell.

"And you are doing a terrible job at avoiding me, by the way," Cate teased.

And her words had your head snapping up to look at her, freezing like a damn deer caught. You had been avoiding her. But she'd noticed. Of course she noticed. You weren't as stealthy as you thought.

"I'm not avoiding you," you say immediately, like the liar you were.

It was subtle, but you could see it - the slight furrow of her brow, the way her fingers fidgeted with the hems off her gloves.

The professor's eyes lingered on you and Cate for a moment, but he continued his lecture.

In the back of your brain, your spider-sense buzzed like a warning, but you pushed it away. Probably just your brain going haywire again.

"Yeah, okay," Cate said with an eye roll. "If you're not avoiding me, then why have you been canceling plans? Or bailing on movie nights?"

God, it must have been so obvious that Cate had decided to ask directly. You couldn't just admit that the reason you'd been avoiding her was because of your completely ridiculous crush on her.

Cate was your friend. It would be so stupid to ruin what you had because of a silly love that would never be reciprocated.

Just tell her.

But you pushed away that annoying voice that sounded like Jordan, instead focusing on the blank expression on Cate's face. She didn't look surprised or hurt. She just looked… calm. Which irritated you.

You always hated how she could keep such a straight face. You couldn't understand it. It was like she had a million thoughts going on behind her blue eyes, and she refused to share a single one.

"I have some stuff I need to think about," you said eventually, not looking up to meet her gaze because you knew she'd see the guilt in your eyes. "Personal things."

Cate frowns.

She knew that you were lying. She knew that you were avoiding her, but she doesn't know why. Was it something she did? The thought leaves a sour taste in her mouth.

"You're not in any kind of trouble, are you?" she asked quietly as the professor went on rambling.

"No. Just personal stuff. Nothing major," you say, waving your hand dismissively even though you felt like crap for not telling the entire truth.

Cate gave you a long, searching look, like she could see right through your bullshit, and you hated that she still somehow managed to look so damn beautiful even when she was worried.

But then professor starts explaining what's going to be on the big final for class. You'd been zoning out for the last half of the class, so you don't fully understand what he's explaining. A part of you was glad that the professor intervened when he did. It spared you from saying something stupid or from having to look into those damn blue eyes just a little longer.

Students immediately scattered when the bell rang, rushing to get out. Even the professor was in a hurry, rushing out of the classroom. Cate took her time getting up, slinging her backpack over one shoulder and shooting a look your way.

it was like clockwork - you always walked with Cate to her next class. The walk was almost always in comfortable silence, and you were used to it. She'd always insist that you didn't have to, that it was out of your way. But you always did it anyways, just to see her smile.

"Are you coming? Or are you going somewhere else today?" Cate asks, a hint of suspicion in her voice.

Your heart sank at the question. You still had to walk Cate to her next class. The class she had in the other building across campus. Which meant about a five-minute of awkwardly walk.

With a sigh, you grab your backpack and stand up. "No, I'll come with you," you mutter, avoiding her gaze.

"Don't sound too excited about that," Cate replied, sounding just a touch bitter.

Cate headed for the door, and you knew you didn't have a choice but to follow.

The walk to the other building was quiet at first. She kept her gaze forward, and you focused on the path in front of you, trying not to look at her, but that was getting harder and harder.

Finally, she broke the silence.

"Is it really that bad?" she questioned, still walking. "Spending time with me, I mean."

You almost wanted to laugh. Because spending time with her was one of your favorite things. To be around her, to be near her and talk to her, that was all you wanted. But you didn't know what to say. And you didn't want her to know how you really felt.

"No, of course not," you replied hastily. "You know it's not you that's the problem, right? I just.. it's really just personal stuff."

People gave Cate space as you two walked, they were instinctively wary of her power. There was always a small gap around her, people carefully steering clear, as if one brush against her skin would land them under her control.

"Why won't you tell me about it then?" she pressed, glancing over at you. "We're friends, aren't we? And I can't help if you don't give me any details."

You just sighed. "I just need some time. I'll tell you eventually, okay?"

"You never used to be like this," Cate pointed out, and she did sound hurt now. Fuck. "We used to hang out all the time."

"And then," she continued, in that same bitter tone, "You just started dodging me out of the blue. So you'll have to excuse me if I'm a little irritated."

No, no, no, fuck no...

The second you grabbed her shoulder, you almost let go at the flinch. Cate wasn't a fan of unexpected touches. Especially if she couldn't see them coming. But she didn't pull away from your touch, even if there was some tension in her muscles.

"I'm sorry," you said quietly, and you really were. "I just…I need some time to think about some stuff, that's all. I promise you, i tell you about this later."

Cate looked as if she wanted to argue, but she didn't. The two of you were already outside her building.

She stopped outside the door, shifting her backpack strap and biting her lip, as if contemplating whether to question you further. But eventually, she just let out a shaky exhale and nodded.

"Okay," she said, finally looking up at you. "Okay, fine. But you promise," she pressed.

"See you later," she muttered, and then she turned and went into the building, leaving you to feel terrible for lying to her face and even worse because of the hurt look in her eyes.

You cursed yourself all the way to the next class.

Cate was so goddamn good at acting cool and untouchable, but you had known her for so long, that you knew better. You knew how hurt she'd been when you'd started spending more time alone. And yet, you were still too damn scared to tell her the truth.

Danger!

Your head snapped forward, and your eyes scanned the area.

It was a sunny day, and most students were either in their classes or going to them, and nobody seemed out of the ordinary.

That was weird. Usually your spider sense was pretty on point and went off whenever you were in any real danger. Not like that time at the cafeteria when Jordan set off some firecrackers behind you and you almost hit the ceiling, but still.

What the fuck was happening?

You heard people screaming and running, and it didn't take your spider sense to figure out that something was wrong. Your heart skipped a beat in your chest as a terrible realization hit you.

Faculty Support building.

It didn't take long for you to piece together what that meant.

Cate and her classmates were in danger. They didn't have combat powers and they'd be pretty much defenseless against a real threat.

Before you could even fully process your panic, you were already running. When you finally reached the building, you had to shove through a crowd of people standing by the entrance, peering fearfully into the building. They had all backed a good distance away from the entrance. Fucking idiots, you thought.

There was chaos inside and...

... hideous monstrosities, grotesque parodies of humans and animals fused together in an abominable manner. Wings stretched out from some of them, while others brandished razor-sharp claws and teeth. Their eyes were soulless black pits, devoid of any humanity.

And the worst part? There weren't just a few of them. It was like they had come out of a goddamn horror movie, surrounding students and attacking.

A few teachers were using their powers - freezing the monsters, even their minds to stop them - but others were struggling to help. Most of the staff at Godolkin were more suited to office work than actual combat. But they were trying.

Danger!

Suddenly, there was a crash, and glass shattered behind you, and then one of the creatures charged at you.

It was fast, that much you could say. If it weren't for your powers, you'd probably be dead in an instant.

You dodged at the last second, and the creature slammed into the wall so hard, it left a dent in the wall.

"Shall we dance, dear?"

Your quips were kind of a nervous habit. You never actually felt as confident as you sounded. The thing let out an animalistic hiss in response, charging towards you again, seemingly in irritation as you started threw debris and trash at it.

You were just a little too agile for it to get close enough to do any real damage, and it was making the creature angrier and angrier. It hissed and screeched as it continued to try and slash you, getting more and more frustrated.

The chimera had gotten tired and its movements were becoming slower. Finally, you saw a moment where you had a clear shot, and you didn't let the chance go to waste. You shot a web at the chimera, trapping its legs and then pulling it down to the floor, hard.

"Well, I had a good time. Bye-bye."

You had a feeling this creature wasn't fully grown yet but you didn't waste anytime with that thought. You used a large chunk of rubble and slammed it onto the abomination head.

It twitched violently for a few moments, and then fell still, the lifeless body lying in pools of black blood.

For a few seconds, you just stood there, staring at the body at your feet, still trying to process what the fuck just happened.

While you were fighting, more students arrived, you could hear Jordan swearing and Luke's fire was burning somewhere. But you couldn't help but worry about Cate. Had she managed to escape? Was she with other students, or had she tried to hide somewhere?

You continued to fight, dancing around the creatures and helping the other students.

The thought that she might be in danger nagged at you, making it difficult to focus on the fight. And there were so many of these weird, disgusting things that you couldn't even imagine where to find her.

And your questions were soon answered.

The scene before you was both incredible and terrifying. Cate was surrounded by two of those horrid creatures, but they were just obediently waiting for her to give them an order like a dogs.

Well, it was probably easier for Cate to take control of these creatures, they didn't seem to have even a semblance of intelligence, only instincts. She seemed so unbothered, so calm, almost like her usual, untouchable self. But the bloodshot eyes and the slight tremor in her hands showed that this was definitely taking a toll on her.

The chimeras seemed to follow her every command, attacking and taking down other monsters with an unnerving obedience.

She was breathtaking. Unbelievably beautiful. And in that moment, it hit you just how much you loved her. It was a deeper feeling than a mere crush, something strong and powerful that you knew would last forever.

Danger!

Suddenly, something large, greater than any of the creatures you had fought against, burst through the wall. It looked like a lizard on fucking steroids and its reptilian eyes glowed with intelligence. It scanned the battlefield before narrowing its eyes on Cate.

The creature hissed, a low, aggressive sound. It clearly focused on Cate, and you could feel a tinge of fear in your chest. It was just so damn big.

You didn't think.

You just acted. Without hesitation.

You shot a web and swung yourself into the air, launching yourself at the lizard creature. It roared as you jumped on its back. It was huge, at least ten times bigger than any creature you had encountered so far. Its yellow eyes glowed with malevolence and it hissed and thrashed, trying to throw you off.

"Get off me, you damn insect!" the lizard roared, its voice like gravel and malice.

Oh, shit, mini-Godzilla can talk?

It was strong, and you could feel the muscles underneath shifting and writhing as it thrashed around, trying to shake you off like a dog shaking off a flea.

"You're going to have to try a lot harder to get rid of me, you overgrown gecko," you quipped, as you fired off some more webbing to secure your position.

"Bro! You just had to pick the extra-large one, didn't you?"

Well, fuck, you'll recognize this voice anywhere. Jordan didn't look particularly thrilled to be fighting such a overgrown gecko, but they never backed away from a challenge.

The moment the lizard noticed Jordan, it seemed to become even more enraged. It let out a deafening roar, the sound echoing through the halls of the building, and then it started to charge straight towards them, with you still clinging to its back.

Jordan wasted no time, releasing energy blast, then another and another.

Suddenly, you slipped. Your grip loosened just for a moment, but that was more than enough.

In that split moment of distraction, the enraged creature suddenly twisted its body in an unexpected move, throwing you off its back and sending you flying across the room. You crashed into the wall and felt a sharp pain shoot through your body.

The impact left you dazed, and for a moment, it was hard to think straight. Your head felt like it had been caved in, and your ribs were definitely bruised at best. Everything was fuzzy and your head was spinning, the pain radiating from the collision making it hard to focus.

Everything became a hazy blur. The sounds of battle faded away and the world seemed to tilt and spin. You felt weak and exhausted, your adrenaline finally starting to wear off and leaving you vulnerable.

A familiar voice, soft and strained, cut through the fog, a gentle touch on your face. Cate's worried eyes was the last thing you seen before darkness engulfed your consciousness.

---

You didn't know how long you were out for. Seconds, minutes, hours, maybe?

When you finally woke up, you found yourself lying on a bed, the soft sheets beneath you feeling strangely comforting. Your head was throbbing painfully, and your ribs ached with every breath.

You struggled to open your eyes, blinking against the harsh light.

"Hey, hey, hey, it's okay," a voice whispered, familiar and tender.

Cate.

Cate was there, her face etched with concern as she sat beside the bed, her eyes fixed on you. Her touch was gentle as she placed a hand on your shoulder.

You tried to speak, but the words came out as a hoarse croak. Cate seemed to understand, though, her expression softening.

"Take it easy," she murmured, her voice soft and soothing. "You took a pretty bad hit."

You eagerly accepted the glass of water that she gave you. The water tasted heavenly as it ran down your parched throat.

"You had us all worried, you know," she said, her tone filled with concern.

The dark circles under her eyes, the slightly disheveled state of her hair, and the slight trembling of her hands. It was obvious that she hadn't been able to rest properly. Probably thanks to you. Your heart ached seeing her in this state. She had been worried for you, worried sick by the looks of it.

Cate placed the glass back on the bedside table, her eyes never leaving you.

"You shouldn't have. I'm like a cockroach. Only a spider." you said like a clown you are. Cate barely smiled at that. "How long have I been out?"

And what the fuck happened. You've never seen anything like this, except maybe in movies. But this was a real life.

"Two days. And no, you're not a spider, you idiot." she replied, her voice tinged with a hint of irritation. "You had a concussion and some bruised ribs. You were lucky they didn't break."

Ouch. You huddled in the hospital bed, trying to appear smaller. Cate rarely got mad at you, but when she did, it was scary.

Cate's irritation seemed to soften at your pathetic attempt to make yourself smaller. She sighed and rubbed her temples, her expression becoming more concerned than angry.

"You... You shouldn't have done what you did," she continued, her voice stern. "Throwing yourself at that monster, trying to be a hero. You could've been killed!"

Her words hit you hard. You'd known it was a reckless decision even as you were doing it, but you hadn't cared in that moment. All that had mattered was protecting Cate.

"But I couldn't just let that thing hurt you," you said, your voice weak. "I had to do something."

Cate's jaw clenched and something flashed across her face so quickly you couldn't tell what it was. "That thing was Professor Connors," she corrected you.

Who?

She saw the confusion on your face and continued to explain.

"Professor Connors. 'Heroes and Society' class. Ring a bell? He's was also a geneticist and used to work at Vought. He was experimenting on some kind of gene-mutation or something. That's probably why he turned into that… thing."

Wait, seriously?

You couldn't help but snort. "Was this his twisted revenge for everyone sleeping during his lectures?"

Cate rolled her eyes at your remark, but a hint of a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.

"Yeah, I guess turning himself into a giant lizard was Professor Connors' way of getting back at us for being such terrible students," she replied, her voice laced with sarcasm.

But then her expression turned serious again.

"But it's not funny. You could have died. And it would have been my fault. It should have been me, not you."

The realization that Cate blamed herself for your injury made your stomach twist into knots. You tried to sit up straighter, despite the painful ache in your ribs, wanting to face Cate properly.

"No!" you protested, wincing at the effort. "It should have been me. I'm the one who's got superstrength and healing factor. I'm the one who's supposed to protect you."

Cate opened her mouth to protest, but you cut her off.

"I'll be fine, I'll heal quickly." you decided to cheer her up a bit. "And your powers saved our asses. Seriously, you handled those creatures like a boss."

Cate let out a soft, watery chuckle at your attempt to lighten the mood. "Yeah, I guess I did kick ass," she murmured, a hint of a smile tugging at her lips.

You glanced around the room, taking in the colorful array of flowers and balloons. You felt guilty for worrying everyone, but then your attention returned to Cate.

"Looks like I have a veritable florist shop in here," you commented weakly, trying to lighten the mood.

The look Cate gave you could freeze hell.

---

And... now Cate was firmly in her overprotective mode, and she made sure you followed every single one of the doctors' instructions. It was both endearing and annoying the way she made you take the pills, undergo the tests, and eat the damn vegetables.

She wouldn't let you lift a finger, insisting that you rest and focus on getting better.

"If I let you out of my sight, you'll probably end up trying to fight another giant monster."

Jordan, of course, made comments about Cate playing nurse, but they wisely chose not to say anything in front of her. At least they have brains left for this.

"Hey, bro, I think your future wife is a little obsessed with taking care of you."

"Shut the fuck up."

"Whipped."

You even caught her sleeping on a chair next to your bed a few times. Exhaustion was getting to her. And despite your protests, you secretly enjoyed the attention.

Finally, the day came when the doctors gave the all-clear sign. You were released from the hospital wing, but they warned that you should try to stay away from strenuous activities for a while.

"Do you really think I can sit still for long?" you asked Cate with a smirk.

As Cate walked with you back to your dorm room, her expression became more serious.

"Look, they said you shouldn't overdo things," she reminded you, glancing at you out of the corner of her eye.

You rolled your eyes at her concern and pushed open the door to your room.

"Yes, Nurse Dunlap, I know. 'No heavy lifting, no intense physical activity, and no trying to rescue any damsels in distress for at least a week,'" you said in your best serious and responsible impression, mimicking her tone.

Cate's reaction was a bit more intense than you would have expected. She closed the door and turned to face you.

"It's not funny," she said, her voice sharp and something about her expression made you pause. Behind the irritation, there was a hint of something else.

Worry. Fear. Anxiety.

You gently squeezed her hands, trying to reassure her.

"Cate, I'm fine. I'll take it easy, just like the doctor said," you told her, your voice gentle and soothing.

"You're not, you idiot," she protested, her voice cracking slightly. "You were unconscious for two days with a concussion and bruised ribs."

Your heart ached as you realized the pain you had caused her. She was scared, worried, and desperately trying to keep herself together.

But more than anything, you were sick of holding back your feelings, of hiding how you truly felt about her. You couldn't continue on like this, pretending that what you felt for Cate was just friendship.

And then you decided. No more being a coward. No more holding back your feelings. It was time to tell her. Consequences be damned.

"Cate," you began, your voice soft and shaky. "I… I need to talk to you about something. Something really important."

Cate's eyes widened at the sudden seriousness in your voice.

"Okay," she replied, her voice hesitant. "What is it?"

Be brave, be brave, be brav..

Your palms were sweaty, and your heartbeat was so loud in your ears that you feared she might hear it. The words were right there on the tip of your tongue, but actually saying them out loud seemed to be the hardest thing in the world. It's easier to fight a monsters.

"First, I just want to say... I'm sorry," you started. "I'm sorry I worried you and I'm sorry I scared you. I know I shouldn't have done what I did, but I just... I couldn't just stand there and do nothing. I had to protect you."

This was the easiest part.

"I know I've been acting differently lately. It's because… because I couldn't admit what I was feeling. I have feelings for you and I don't know if you feel the same, but i had to let you know because it's been eating me alive for way too long."

Cate's eyes widened, and her breath caught in her throat. For several seconds, there was only silence between you. The air was thick with tension, and you could hear your own heartbeat echoing in your ears.

Cate's reaction was unreadable, her face emotionless. The uncertainty was killing you.

"Cate," you finally blurted out, unable to take the silence any longer. "Please, say something? You're kinda freaking me out right now."

Fear. Hesitation. Uncertainty. You wondered for a moment if you had made a huge mistake. And then, just when you thought you might burst from the tension, Cate spoke.

"You… you can't be serious," she mumbled, her voice barely above a whisper. "Why… why would you like someone like me?"

Cate's grip on your hands faltered as she looked down at her gloved hands. She always wore gloves, as if to hide the part of herself that she thought was monstrous.

Could she really not see how incredible she was? How amazing? You wanted to yell, to scream out how stupid that question was. But instead, you reached out to cup her face gently.

"I'm different," she protested weakly. "I can... I can push people. Make them do things. That's not normal. It's messed up. I'm messed up."

You could see the doubt and insecurity written all over her face. She truly believed that she didn't deserve to be loved because of her powers. It broke your heart to see her think so lowly of herself.

"You're not messed up," you said gently but firmly. "You're special. Unique. Your powers don't define you. They're part of you, yes, but they're not who you are. I know you. I see you."

I love you as you are.

The tears welled up in Cate's eyes, and she bit her lip, trying to hold them back. She wanted so badly to believe you, to accept your kind words. But years of being judged, rejected, and feared had etched themselves into her very being.

"But… but what if you change your mind?" she whispered, her voice breaking. "What if you realize… you realize it's too much? That I'm too much?"

You knew that she wasn't rejecting you, not really.

You gently wiped away a tear that had escaped down her cheek.

"Cate, look at me," you said softly, tilting her chin up so her gaze met yours. "I won't change my mind. You're not too much. You're just right. Just the way you are."

Cate's eyes met yours, and for a moment, she couldn't do anything but stare at you. She had imagined this moment many times. But here it was, real. And you, looking at her like that. The look in your eyes was so sincere, so loving, that Cate's breath caught in her throat. No one had ever spoken to her like that, looked at her like that.

"I want to be with you. Do you want this?"

She was so used to people avoiding physical contact with her. People who saw her powers as a danger. Anyone with half a brain would know that her gloves were a sham, any skin-to-skin contact would be enough.

But here you were, unafraid, holding her face.

Cate wanted this. She had wanted this for so long. Slowly, a small, shaky smile tugged at the corner of the lips. She swallowed hard, voice trembling with emotion.

"Yes," she whispered, her eyes never leaving yours. "I've wanted you for so long, but I was too scared. Too messed up."

Jordan was right, you two were hopeless.

A wave of relief and happiness washed over your heart. This was real. Cate wanted you back.

You reached out to touch her cheek again, your fingers traced lightly over her skin. The warmth and softness under your fingertips made your heart race. You wanted to pull her closer, hold her tight and never let go.

You couldn't believe this was happening. Cate, the girl you'd been too scared to admit your feelings for, felt the same way about you.

The room seemed to shrink around you, the outside world forgotten. All that existed was her and you, wrapped up in this moment. Her perfume filled your nostrils, a sweet, almost addictive scent that made you want to get closer to her.

"Can i kiss you?"

Cate imagined what it would be like to kiss you so many times, but now here you were, asking her permission.

"Yes," she whispered, her voice soft and a bit shaky. "Yes, you can kiss me."

The way Cate's hair fell over her face, the heat of her skin under your fingers, the way her eyes flickered between your eyes and your lips. You felt light, like you were floating on cloud. Cate wanted you, she agreed to kiss you.

And then you closed the distance between you and pressed your lips against hers.

[dailykugisaki]

Day 167 | id in alt

Fushiguro got three strikes in the time of one minute, new record.

[fumiliar]

in your dreams - kento nanami

✎... fluff

everyone knew your crush on nanami in highschool. it was a public secret, from your classmates to upperclassmen, they all knew. when you first entered jujutsu high, you saw the most beautiful upperclassmen, kento nanami. ever since you've noticed the man, you followed him like a lost puppy. taking any chance to strike a conversation with him, you had 2 goals in highschool, graduate and most importantly get with nanami.

when you came back to jujutsu high as a sorcerer, their first words to you were:

"you're the one who liked nanamin right?" the blue eyed man asked

"yeah, i can't believe you still remembered," awkwardly looking around, trying to stare at anything but his face. it was a very embarrassing time of your life.

"everyone remembers, but don't worry, nanamin won't come back anytime soon."

and how wrong he was. 3 months after you came back to jujutsu, kento followed your footsteps, joining as another jujutsu sorcerer.

"i heard nanamin was single, you don't wanna try asking him out y/n? maybe you'd have a different fate," gojo winking at you before he went to take his leave.

you contemplated on asking him out on a date tonight. it wouldn't hurt, right?

as you arrived to the field to supervise the students, you saw a familiar figure, kento nanami. you took your time walking there, admiring the man. kento being the observant man he is, noticed your staring, reciprocating it back to you, making you look away instantly.

as you stood beside him watching the students, kento started some small talk.

"how was your day y/n?" kento asked, lowering his body by just a pinch to hear you better.

"good, what about you?" you replied.

"good as well," kento answered.

"wanna go out on a date with me?" you whispered, avoiding his gaze, making sure no one was paying attention.

"of course y/n, i'm flattered that you asked me out," kento replied with a soft smile.

you tried to cover your joy, but it was too much. a smile slowly manifesting itself on your face.

"[Honorific].Y/n, why are you smiling?" yuuji asked.

"nothing.."

when you had entered the break room, gojo and shoko were already sitting, waiting to interrogate you.

"so are you going out on a date with nanamin tonight?" gojo asked expectantly.

"of course, we're literally married," you answered while taking out your lunchbox from the fridge.

"i know he agreed to go on a date with you, but that doesn't mean you're married to him too y/n," shoko talking to you with a tone she would use in a misbehaving kid.

"in your dreams y/n, i love you, but these delusions need to stop," shoko agreeing with gojo for once.

"what delusions?" kento asked. in the middle of your conversation, kento had also entered the break room, only hearing gojo's part.

"i told them we're married, and they don't believe me," a chuckle escaped kento's lips as you huffed. he slowly approached you, leaning down to give you a kiss on the cheek.

"yeah, we are," kento holding up your hand flexing the matching wedding bands you both had. you and kento thought it would be funny to play a game with the jujutsu high people. at first, you wanted to tell them as soon as you arrived at jujutsu high. but due to gojo's incessant teasing, you decided to see how long you could trick him and everyone else. it wasn't like you guys were hiding it, you both wore your wedding bands everyday, it's just kento isn't a big fan of PDA in the workplace.

"what...are you serious..."

[bunnysbrainrot]

Size Matters

Kinktober Prompt: Size kink

Relationship: Sam Winchester x Reader

Content: Explicit sexual scenes, oral (f receiving), creampie (wrap it up, kids), dirty talk, rough sex, dom Sam, fluffy/funny aftercare (it’s crucial)

Summary: Your plan for making the boys dinner goes awry, leaving you alone with Sam in his bedroom, and coming to terms with a kink that only Sam Winchester can fulfill.

A/N: 🤭

"C'mon,' you strain, reaching for a high shelf in the cabinet. Apparently Sam and Dean didn't find a need for a stepladder in the bunker. Your calves screech in protest as you reach for a jar of pasta sauce, your fingers brush the bottle, but not enough purchase to grab it.

A long arm reaches above your head, grabbing the sauce in a large, familiar hand. Sam hands you the jar with a smile.

You took it from his hands and chide, "Not everyone's as vertically gifted as you and your brother, you know. Y'could be more inclusive and invest in a stepstool."

He leans against the counter you'd been setting ingredients on. Sam's eyes scan over your form as you open the pasta sauce.

"You know you can ask us for help, right?"

"I was gonna make dinner for us, I didn't want to make you guys help me," you reply Sam stands fully now and looks over your shoulder. You crane your neck to look up at him, "How's the weather up there?"

Sam chuckles lightly, "You know, I could tease you about your height. It'd be pretty easy."

You turn back to the counter and place freshly-washed vegetables on a cutting board. Unsheathing a knife from the knife block, you keep conversation with Sam.

"I don't have a problem with being short," you bump your hip sideways into Sam's leg. He does the same to you, except the direct strike in the ribs knocks you off balance, stumbling over.

He's able to snatch you up to safety before you bust your ass on the floor. Now cradled in Sam's arms, a rush of comfort comes over you in his stable grip. His hands catch your waist, with his long fingers spreading broad across your torso. Fuck, together they could probably go around most of your waist, and those fingers...

You snap out of your stupor to find Sam smiling down at you. His eyes linger on yours long enough for your mind to wander, wondering who would lean in first. Stolen glances at each other's lips, hitched breath, low-lidded eyes, it was a perfect concoction for Sam to kiss you.

Beneath him, you're so delicate in his arms, as if you'll break if he isn't careful. It was in his own reflexes to catch you, but the feelings that rushed through him afterwards were something deeper. Almost instinctive that in any moment with you like this, hushed and ogling, would lead to something more. Forget dinner, he thought, he could just order something for delivery.

At least, after he's done with you.

"Sam," you whisper. Maybe you hadn't been paying attention, but his face is now just inches from your own.

He finds himself leaned over further, close enough to share the same air, breaths mixing.

You smile nervously, and to your relief Sam gives one of his own. But he doesn't break away - doesn't help you to your feet to cut vegetables for the dinner you were kindly making for him. It couldn't matter much now that he's holding you like this.

"Sorry," he replies, barely audible. You wave your hands in dismissal and place them around his neck. The air shifts as the movement brings you ever closer, your lips no more than three inches away from Sam's.

"It's okay," you whisper. Soft, hazel eyes wander over your face and flicker to your lips, seemingly stuck there until Sam takes a risk he'd been waiting for.

Relief washes over you when his lips meet yours. After all this time, it turns out that he had the guts to break this tension, and everything that had been bottled up could now overflow. You let a deep hunger overtake your body, purely going on instinct as Sam embraces you. Sam sighs into your kiss and swallows a moan it drew from your throat, whiny and eager.

Sam nips at your bottom lip, tugging at it tentatively with his teeth. You do the same in response, only harder. Testing the waters. Usually a dangerous game, especially with a Winchester.

Your hands had made their way to his broad shoulders - his lean muscles flexing and stretching as he moves his hands over you, meandering from your waist, spanning from your shoulder blades to the top of your ass. His fingers toy with the fabric of your clothes, like he was trying to unwrap a present too early and didn't want to rip the packaging.

“Not here,” Sam says, his words slurring like a love-drunk fool, “Can’t do this here.”

He breaks the kiss and leaves you panting for more; there's a new darkness in his stare, one that makes you shudder. You give him a smile, wiggling in his grip to the pasta sauce jar, and shut it closed.

“What about dinner?”

You raise an eyebrow at him, “You seem like you have other plans.”

He was caught red handed, but you weren’t declining the advances. If anything you spurred them on as much as he did.

Sam slowly releases you from his grip, setting you stably on your feet. Not once have his eyes left you, even if you weren’t paying attention - Sam was set on this goal, you’d given him the ‘yes’ he needed, and he intended to make good on his commitment.

Patience was wearing thin for Sam. He ogles at the sight of you bent at the waist, putting the pasta sauce and veggies back in the fridge. The curve of your ass sucks him in whole, as if there were nothing else in the room.

A hand settles on your ass from behind, cupping and kneading gently. You let out a shuddering exhale before standing and turning to Sam.

The softness of your voice surprises you, “Where do you want me?”

The ball was in his court. Sam looks you over coolly, his hands kept to themselves in his pants pockets. Your eyes drift lower and pause on the large bulge in Sam’s pants, straining slightly against his thick jeans.

“My bedroom,” he said plainly.

—

There was little time to brace yourself for Sam’s next move. You're pressed against the wall before you can protest, although you wouldn’t dare object to this.

Sam grips the backs of your thighs and lifts you up, wedging your hips with his own, keeping you steady. A new hardness presses against your core as Sam juts his hips into you, pure instinct taking over his movements. His cock twitches in his jeans - he needs to watch his cock sink into you, to watch your face contort in bliss when he bottoms out in your pussy.

There was nothing small about Sam Winchester - he's a Goliath of a man, towering over you at any given time, with thick broad muscles that send a rushing heat to your sex. If your intrusive thoughts ever won, you were sure he could toss you around like it was nothing.

But now, you didn’t have much choice but to stay pinned to the wall, where you and Sam both grind your hips desperately, letting out lilted moans and grunts against each other’s skin.

The friction on your swelling clit was rough and warm, with Sam's cock perfectly nestled atop your drenched slit. Each rough push shot pleasure through your core, but it wasn’t enough for your aching cunt.

“If you need me to stop, you tell me, okay?” he emphasized. You shook your head at him. You wouldn’t break so easily, but if anyone were to shatter you apart, it could happily be Sam.

Your lips found his ear, after staining yourself up his long torso, “I’m not gonna break that easily, don’t worry.”

“Oh, yeah?” his voice deepened as his lips found your neck, eagerly nipping at your skin and making you whine. "Let's test that theory."

You gripped the hem of your shirt and shimmied it over your head, casting it to the floor carelessly.

Sam’s eyes trail over your chest, still beautifully bound by your bra. Their softness served as an undeniable invitation for his mouth to lower. He dips his head to greedily nip and suckle at the supple skin, leaving red and purple splotches in his wake.

You grip at his hair, urgently tugging him closer, as if the direct contact could never be enough to satisfy. Each of your soft moans is echoed with a low groan from Sam’s chest. He had doubled over, completely encapsulating you in his clean scent, now thick with a lustful musk.

Two fingers found the band of your bra, unclipping it with the utmost ease, and cast it to the floor with your shirt. Through panting breaths, Sam works off his shirt, though his lips have no hesitation to return to your exposed chest, and found a pebbled nipple between his teeth, rolling and biting to bring out a symphony of moans from the both of you.

Your hands lunged for the waistband of your pants. Sam took notice and sighs happily against your skin, his warm breath like a gentle wave across everything you'd exposed to him. Above you, Sam grew more unhinged with each passing second, grabbing and biting and kneading your flesh like a man starved.

Sam's lips capture yours once more in a tangle of tongues and teeth, exploring one another as if it was your only chance to do so. His tongue grazed the roof of your mouth, swallowing a deep moan that erupts from deep within your chest. He assesses your position and grows frustrated. It would be difficult to remove your, or his, pants without risking dropping you to the floor.

As quickly as you'd been slammed into the wall, Sam tosses you onto his bed, but stays standing at its foot, his hands reaching for his belt buckle. All else in the room vanished as you watch him remove the thick denim, shoving it down his legs to the floor. His cock strained against his boxers, throbbing and twitching to be free.

"Those," Sam nodded his head to your pants, "off."

The sudden dominance springs you into action. Your hands fly to your waistband and wiggle them off of your hips, down your thighs, and kick them away. Your soaked panties act as your final barrier, barring you from what you so badly needed.

Sam returns to his hunched position over you, letting his hands rove over your exposed thighs and ass, pawing at you greedily. You reach down to the band of his boxers, and slip your fingers under the elastic, inching them down until you felt a resistance against it - Sam's cock fights against the removal, straining your short arms until Sam reaches down to aid you.

The head of his cock springs up to smack against your covered core. You gasp softly at its warmth, your neglected cunt tightens around nothing of substance, an empty hole aching to be filled with something substantial.

"Feel." This was Sam's only order as he tugs your hand down to his length, coaxing you to wrap your small fingers around the middle of his shaft.

He's thick and warm against your palm, with a thick vein creeping up its underside to the tip. Your mouth waters at the way his cock twitches eagerly in your hand, and you slowly begin to pump along his length, making Sam hiss through his teeth.

Sam's voice is lower than you'd ever heard; it sends a heat directly to your teased pussy, now bracing against the base of Sam's cock. Its length covers most of your abdomen, casting your body in its silhouette in the dim lamplight of the room.

"Jesus..." he remarks wistfully, trailing a free hand up to his tip, pressing into the soft flesh of your belly.

Beneath him like this, Sam can finally see the scale of his cock to your insides, mapping out precisely where he'll settle inside of you. You whine softly as his cock drags another stroke over your soaked folds - the abrasion from your underwear was no longer tantalizing, but rather a nuisance.

His breathing becomes ragged, "I need to taste you."

The words shudder through you as Sam's lips work through the valley of your breasts, showering kisses along your middle, and finally he settles between your thighs. Sam places a kiss atop your clit, still kept out of sight by your soaked panties. Two fingers hook into the waistband and tug downward, sliding the soiled garment off of your shaky legs and to the floor behind him.

Cold air strikes your slit as Sam pries it open with two thick fingers, teasing at your aching hole, spreading the wetness around your cunt.

"Are you always this wet when you think about me?" his voice tremors through you. You nod quietly and hold your breath as Sam's head dips lower. All you can see is his rich brown hair cascading over your belly before warmth spread through your core, leaving you moaning at his first touch.

With the way his tongue teased at your clit, Sam may as well have set you ablaze. Your skin radiated a warmth unlike no other, rolling in waves as the cold of the air shocked your most sensitive areas.

"Sam," you whine, carding your fingers through his soft locks. You tug on him gently to push him further.

He pays no mind to your plea, and instead wraps his toned arms under your thighs, pulling your pussy flush against his thick tongue. It flicks your clit perfectly, and pairs with his lips as he suckles on the sweet bundle of nerves.

The taste of you makes Sam groan, his cock straining against the mattress beneath him. Above him, your moans and cries are a siren song, calling him to the bottomless sea of his desire. He pictures what lies ahead - you, sprawled on the bed, blissed out from his tongue and cock, sated and sleepy from a relentless pounding.

That image is pasted in his mind as he laps at your cunt, occasionally dipping his tongue into your tight entrance, and tasting your innermost parts. You arch your back at his touch, sighing his name like a prayer. His restless tongue toys with your hardening clit as pressure builds in your belly.

Sam creates a rhythm on your clit that sends you unfurling under his touch, mewling and whining and moaning slurred versions of Sam and please and need you. But he refuses to give more. Not until he can taste your release directly on his tongue.

The tightness in your belly snaps, breaking you apart until you're crying Sam's name against your hand, clasped firmly against your mouth. His tongue lolls over your clit even still, skyrocketing the shockwaves of the orgasm and making you whimper. Your slick coats his tongue and fills Sam's senses. All there is is you, your sounds, and your delicious cunt.

"Fuck," mumbles Sam, his voice reverberating through your convulsing sex, clamping down onto nothing.

You whine in response. All thought and sense had escaped your mind, now shattered and cast off to a void in the back of your mind. Sam laps up your juices and swallows, savoring every last drop your body had to offer.

The cold air of the room kisses your exposed cunt as Sam rises to his knees, his heavy cock bobbing above your abdomen.

"So small," he remarks, lining his cock over your stomach and admiring just how much of your body he'd overtake.

You'd surely be sore for days afterward, which sent a flush of pride through his chest. His cock ached to carve you hollow - to leave you gaping after a thorough fucking, to shape your pussy perfectly for him.

His hips rear back as he positions himself with your wet hole, shining with your slick, beckoning him inside. Sam's eyes meet yours when he notches the head of his cock past your entrance, surveying your expressions as he slowly filled you out. The girth of his cock could practically split you down your middle, stretching your little pussy to wrap perfectly around his shaft.

"God, you're so fuckin' tight," Sam groans, ogling at his own cock as it spread your pussy open. His hands press against the backs of your thighs and push them toward your chest, angling himself so the both of you could share the view.

He sighs, "Look at that - such a big cock, stretching out your tiny pussy, just for me."

Astonishment, teasing, and lust filled his tone, and something else. Something more primal that has your walls fluttering around Sam's cock.

You gape at the sight of his cock entering you, and you finally come to terms with exactly just how big he is. Your pussy is stretched blissfully wide, swallowing his length with earnest. Sam slams his hips and strikes deep, the head of his cock brushing against your cervix.

Each thrust is harsher than the last and all you can do is stare at the brutality your pussy is being subjected to. You cry out as Sam's cock crashes into you, every time, without fail.

At this point, there's no hiding the reality of what's behind Sam's bedroom door. If Dean, or anyone else, heard you, let them. Bliss overcomes your senses and dulls all rationality in your muddled mind.

There is nothing else that matters - just the overwhelming size of Sam Winchester and his remarkable cock.

He whispers your name like a summons, meeting his eyes with yours as he presses your body into the mattress. A hand presses into your tummy. Sam gasps softly and takes your hand to replace his own.

"Feel that?" his purrs, pressing onto your hand to deliver some pressure. As he thrusts in you can feel a shift in your insides, until you feel a firm strike of the head of his cock against you palm.

You look to him with wide eyes and find a wicked smile plastered on his face.

Sam crouches over you, enveloping you with his large size, encasing your body with his. He leans toward your ear, "Can you feel it up here, baby? Because I can. I can feel how tiny your cunt is before I go in and stretch it out."

He pushes deeper, to let you really feel it, "I can feel how you try to fit me, and how just tight you're getting, 'cause you're gonna cum, aren't you?"

A dumb nod follows his question, making his grin widen across his lips. No words form on your lips, only shaky wanton moans reply to his commentary.

"I know, sweetheart, feels good," Sam coos, slowing down his movements to draw out a raw cry from your throat. His cock drags through your walls until its head is all that remains, and slams in harshly.

Your cry is on the verge of a scream, but Sam does not relent. There is no plea to stop or slow down, because this is all you'd been dreaming of - to feel a comforting helplessness under someone far larger, to be at their disposal and usage.

A growl leaves his throat, "So fucking small... I bet you feel like you could break, huh? With my cock this deep inside you, your little pussy can barely take any more, can it?"

Your walls clench around him in reply, pulling Sam in deeper until his balls slap against your ass, now pairing with the obscene squelching of your abused pussy.

Between the lilting moans and quieted pleas from your perfect mouth, Sam issn't sure how much longer he can last. He vows to himself that he will not give in to it yet, not until he feels it. He needs to feel the way you wrap around his cock when you cum.

He needs to be the reason you finish, this time and each orgasm after.

"You've been waiting for this. You've wanted this the whole time - someone big and strong to pound your little pussy 'til you can't stand. Because you want a thick cock splitting you open." Sam stammers through the last few words - his own comments are bringing him closer to the brink, but you've already reached yours.

You shudder around him harshly as your orgasm hits you full-force, leaving you no room to ride it out as Sam's pace quickens. His breath hitches at the sensations flowing through his throbbing length - he hisses when you clench around his sensitive tip, leaving his gasping as he fucks you faster. Harder. Deeper.

His cock plunges into your cunt, hitting that same spot in your tummy as he mentioned before. Sam's hand presses against your abdomen, adding a glorious pressure that has you climaxing again in a matter or seconds.

"Thaaaat's it, attagirl," he encourages. "Such a tight little cunt, but she takes me so well."

The words flow through you like fire, sending you over the brink once again and leaving you whimpering beneath him. Sam smirks, knowing he's doing his job right, he has you exactly where he wants you, pinned, helpless, and impossibly full.

"Please... S-Sam," you whisper.

He laughs, pounding you so roughly you can barely brace for the slam against your cervix, "Can't handle it, can you, baby? I thought you said you don't break easily."

Your soft cries reach his ears as you slip into that thoughtless void of your mind, moaning with each strike.

Sam's lips brush over the shell of your ear, "You think you're so strong, but I'll break you. I'll have your cunt so bruised you can't think about anything else - only me, because this pussy is mine, do you understand?"

A reply doesn't come, only the sounds of your moans fill his ears. Sam delivers a harsh slap to your ass, thrusting his cock as deep as he could manage. You let out a long moan but still don't reply.

"Who's pussy is this?"

The words form on your lips and fall out feebly, "Y-yours."

He kisses your forehead, but does not let his hips falter, "That's right, angel. All mine."

Pressure builds in his abdomen, his balls growing tight as his own release crept up from behind. Sam nips at your earlobe, his words clang through you with a primal desire.

"And since this pussy's mine, I'm going to fill it."

The swift relentless pace resumes, crashing into your hips to verge on soreness, your tight cunt still wrapping perfectly around him, and Sam's name falling past your slacked mouth. Sam's eyes screw shut as his own orgasm finally approaches, and his cock begins to twitch.

He unsheathes his cock from your warm walls, aiming directly at your now gaping pussy. Sam pumps himself fervently as his cum spurts from his cock, right into your stretched hole. You stare in awe as his cum seeps into your cunt, the angle of your hips inviting it all in.

Sam hisses, "Keep it all in there."

You pant as you try to recover yourself, but Sam plunges his cock into you again, making you let out a low, drawn-out moan. He strikes as deeply as before, his movements are urgent, borderline predatory, insistent to have you bred nicely.

"Keep it in there, and don't you dare fucking waste it."

His movements start to slow - the thrusts are languid and gentle until Sam finally pulls himself out of your abused pussy. He grips your thighs and lowers them until you can finally breathe freely again, gasping in the cool, refreshing air.

"There you go. Deep breaths, honey," Sam coaxes, running his hands along your sore hips, massaging gently into the aching flesh. You do as you're advised and calm your breathing, inhaling deeply and exhaling slowly. Sam did the same until he slumped into the mattress next to you, groaning into the sheets.

You smile lazily at him, "You okay over there?"

Sam nods into the bed, still letting out a low groan, "Y'fuckin' drained me."

Pride wells in your chest. You giggle at him, earning you a playful slap on your thigh. Your giggle turns into a hearty laugh before you nestle next to Sam, eyes fluttering shut with fatigue. He takes notice and nudges you.

"Bathroom, no UTI's for us today."

You retort, "Sam, I don't think I can even walk properly right now."

He shifts and rises from the bed, scooping you into his arms and lifting you to his chest. Your laughs echo around the room as Sam Winchester takes you to the bathroom, ever the gentleman.

Hi! Thank you all for your patience as i get out of my lil' brain funk. I hope you enjoyed!

If you liked this fic, reblog to show others! Who cares if we're depraved little animals?? don't you just wanna go apeshit???

anyways ily, and i hope this fic gets the love it needs cause i had a wonderful time writing it >:3

[catiuskaa]

THIS ISN’T WHAT FRIENDS DO.

PAIRING! best friend!felix x reader

SUMMARY: you're friends- duh! best friends are close to each other, even if this could be... too close. still, no one can really blame you! that chocolate was far too good anyways.

REQUESTED! here by @lemon-va, who had a spicy kind of good idea, so, sorry it took so long, sweetness, but i hope u like it! <3

CW: convenient minsung strikes again. fluffy smut! mentions and use of aphrodisiac chocolate, use of petnames: princess, darling, pretty, oral sex (f & m rec.) + mentions of protected piv sex (as everyone should!), fluffy aftercare, and I think that's all!

WC: 3.1k

A/N! TYSM FOR THIS, COULD FINALLY FIND AN EXCUSE TO USE THEE DLC FELIX PIC, LMAO

[🔸☆🌆☆🔸]

He smells like home.

It’s the first time you find yourself reeling in the feeling of his hands, one around your waist, and how perfectly you fit cuddled against Felix’s chest, your eyes fixated on him as he focuses on the TV series you both were watching together.

You probably shouldn’t feel as giddy about it as you do. It’s definetely a more-than-friends action. And that’s not what Felix and you have.

He’s just your best friend.

He’s the type of friend that back hugs you, either if it’s because he wants a hug or because he ‘thought you looked like you needed one.’ The type of friend that has ultimately stopped using your name to talk to you, finding pet names under the rocks just to see you giggle. The type of friend that will always have a door or window open for you, having built a kind of trust that allows him to get closer and closer without any tuts, actions like tenderly wiping the excess of that brownie he gave you off the corner of your lip, tilting your chin with a soft touch of his fingers, then licking the chocolate off his thumb.

You can’t focus on the ways his eyes shine brighter, holding too many stars, having some of them pose as freckles on his skin. Can’t even start to listen to your friends or his flatmates when they start rambling about how his smile widens everytime you enter in a room, or how you’re the only one that has the power of making him pause his games, and even the online ones, which are impossible to pause, meaning he turns off league for you.

But, that just… no. You can’t allow yourself to hope so foolishly, right? It wouldn’t be fair. Not for you or him. Does that even make sense?

Before you spiral down to an unhealty amount of overthinking your feelings for him, he’s moving underneath you, his hands craddleing your face.

“You’re not paying attention, silly.” He teases with a cute grin, pausing the show. A thought flashes through your head, and you have to hold back to not wipe his smile off by planting your lips on his.

“Sorry,” you blush and smile sheepishly, but he brushes it off with another blinding smile of his, his eyes like crescent moons. “Feeling kind of sleepy,” you mumble softly.

He takes his phone from his back pocket, moving his hips with you still laying on him in a swift action that has you blushing even more. You mentally shake your head.

These thoughts needed to stop before your face reaches the the tomato-red level… meaning: now.

“It’s barely 6pm.” He’s just pointing it out, and then licking his lips, thinking about how to word what he wants to say. “You shouldn’t drive… It’s too dark. We can steal Seungmin’s pillow, cause he’s off at Hyunjin’s for tonight, and you can sleep in my room.”

Felix’s smile could make you do anything.

“Sure. That sounds nice.” You know you’re using the sleepyness to your advantage when you hide your head on the crook of his neck, moving and streching your body like a kitten, and you humm against his soft skin. “No need to steal Seungmin’s pillow. You’re my pillow now.”

And you both take it as a joke, but if he could just say that he wanted to, it would’ve never been a joke.

“C’mon, pretty.” He cutely ushers you off him, and starts heading to the kitchen, your footsteps following his, grabbing the almost-forgotten popcorn bowls, now empty.

He opens the fridge, grabbing water for the two of you as you leave the bowls in the sink. You sit on top of the counter with no thoughts behind, sipping the water calmly.

You never could’ve guessed that the silly little question that was going to come off of your lips would unexpectedly change the whole night.

A 180° spin, started by your sleepy voice pointing to a bowl with some kind of plastic paper over it.

“What’s that?” You asked softly.

Felix just shrugged, taking the bowl and quickly discarding the plastic.

“Looks like chocolate?” And he frowned, struggling to remember something. It felt important, and it kept itching the back of his mind. “I think that Minho and Han made it a bunch of hours ago.”

You smiled. “Then it must be good. Minho is one hell of a chef,” you laughed, and took a small piece from the several stack of round, coin-like bits.

Instinctively, Felix picked one too, taking a bite at the same time as you, and you both were surprised by its flavour.

“Shit, that’s better than I imagined,” you muttered, frowning at the chocolate piece in your hand, as if it could give you all the answers regarding its taste. “Didn’t expect it to be black chocolate.”

Felix snickered, picking another one. “You do look like a white chocolate enthusiast.”

You gasped, faking offense, a hand to your chest and the other in the bowl, picking another piece. “Excuse me?!” You couldn’t help but smile cheekily. “White chocolate isn’t even chocolate.”

Felix frowned in response, a goofy smile on his face. “Yes it is.” He pointed out, munching at his third or fourth piece. “That why it’s called white chocolate, baby.”

You shook your head vigorously, too invested in the silly discusion to process how that nickname made you feel. “But it doesn’t have actual chocolate on it! It’s just milk and sugar!” You argued as you munched on your sixth piece.

You were about to take another one, but his soft hand stopped you.

“Wait. How many did you take?” He shot a toothy grin at you.

You snorted.

“Shit.” You both said, sneakily smiling, almost like a pair of small children that got away with a lie.

Felix giggled with you, quickly putting back the plastic cover on the bowl and leaving it on its place. As if nothing had happen.

Little did you two know.

“I call dibs on showering first!” Felix cackled.

[🔸☆🌆☆🔸]

Different types of questions bursted in your mind. They should have been easy to answer.

Questions like why and how.

It wasn’t just something that could happen randomly. Not as intense as right now. Because your whole body was burning up like it had been lit up in fire, desperate for any kind of relief.

And so you just stood there, inside Felix’s shower, unable to get out and dress in some random pj’s he lend you because you were soaking wet.

Why were you this horny? No fucking idea.

How on Earth were you this horny? Still no fucking idea!

It could’ve been five or maybe ten minutes that you spent resting your back against the cold tiled wall in his shower, splashing cold water onto your red cheeks, hoping to cool off.

And you consider several options in that moment, only one seemingly effective: to run away, change your name and fly to Spain.

Because Felix had just knocked on the door.

“H-hey.” His tone of voice feels different. “Are you good in there?”

Felix, Felix, Felix.

You feel a pool of arousal forming in your lower belly.

You shake your head almost fiercely. What the fuck is happening? This is so weird. Could it be that you just fell asleep on Felix’s chest and this was all a really strange dream?

He knocks on the bathroom door again.

“D-darling?”

Fuck, shit, fuck.

“Yes?” You answer, a high-pitched tone that makes you cringe.

“I-I uh… I s-screwed up.”

His tone of voice feels weak and soft, almost traced with guilt.

You frown, taking the towel and surrounding your body with it, tucking it and making it stay on, like a robe.

Leaning closer to the door, you sigh softly. “What’s wrong, Lix?”

You could hear him breathing heavily behind the door. A merely two to five steps away.

“Can I… open the door?”

Your eyes widen at his words. And you know its not the most inteligent decision you could make right now, but you bite your lip and open the door.

“S-shit.” Felix mutters, his eyes glued to your body, his face and ears crimson red.

You force your eyes to look at his face, and not at the seemingly painful bulge on his pants.

“S-so…” he takes his hands to his forehead, and passes a hand through his hair. “The chocolate we had… that uh… Minho and Jisung made…”

You blink at him, trying to process his words when your dizzy and fuzzy brain is sending you other ideas.

“And I don’t know how much we actually had…” he’s stressed out, rubbing his eyes, grasping for any sort of remaining concentration that his body could have. "Normally one or two pieces could have a small effect, but still..."

“Wait. It can’t be…” you mumble, slowly arriving to a conclusion.

And then your eyes lock with his.

His pupils darken.

You wouldn’t know who got close first, but your feet step towards him like metal to a magnet.

It's only when his lips grace yours that you move apart and face down. You're flustered, you want to cry and this whole thing is a mess. But then felix gently grabs your chin. He lays his forehead on yours, before planting a loving kiss on it.

"We're gonna do something, ok?” He mutters gently, stroking your face, and your body threatens to melt under his touch. He goes inside his bathroom and picks two random scrunchies near the sink, tenderly taking your hand and settling one on your wrist. Your hands interlink, matching hairtie bands working like a highlight on this situation.

Your glazed eyes lock with his again.

"As long as this is on your wrist, there's no consequences." He takes your hand and kisses the back of it, making your body shiver. "And after this is over, we'll… go back." There's a weird shadow in his eyes when he finishes that sentence.

As if he didn't want to go back to just friends.

"Felix, I don't know if I..." You hesitate, because for god's sake, you love him. And spending the night with him would not help dimming those feelings. What if it hurt more? What if...?

"Please." He's begging, his lips barely hovering over yours, so kissable, so tempting.

And then you break.

Because for a moment you were looking at him, but now you're not... instead, you lean forward and you plant a soft kiss on his lips. And it's all you both need to unravel.

You link your arms around his head and pull him further towards you, locking your lips with him as he moans, now muffled by how you fiercely kiss him, and he pushes your body against the wall, your towel slipping downwards with ease.

Felix's eyes grow imposibly dark with lust, and he grunts at the sight of your curves. Even if you close your eyes due to the intensity of all this, you can still feel him everywhere, the fresh smell of shampoo lingering on his soft hair.

He kisses the air out of your lungs. "I knew you were beautiful." He bites you lower lip, his hands traveling down your body, allowing you to halfly grasp how down bad he seems. "I told you so."

And you can't fathom the fact that he can still tease you in situation like this, but your whole mind is dizzy, there is lava running through your body where Felix touches, and you can't help but moan at his words.

"F-felix." You whimper, only after he starts peppering kisses to your cheeks, your neck, and its when you feel he's slowly kneeling on the floor for you that your hands travel to the back of his head.

"F-fuck, darling." Felix pants heavily. "That sound." His kisses on your belly and thighs start to leave red marks behind. "It's going to kill me."

He’s crazy. And you’re crazy too, because even when his mouth is deep between your legs, his tongue running between your folds, and only loud, almost desperate moans echo around the room.

Fingers tickle up the back of your thighs, his hands hungrily pulling you to him, as he eats you out like he’s been craving for you for ages.

You’re a wreck. A writhing, moaning, shaking wreck, and you can only close your eyes tught and lean into the wall behind you for support, because if not, your legs would definetly give out.

Your hands sink into Felix’s hair for something to hold on to, and a satisfied groan rumbles in his throat, the butterflies on your stomach turning to beasts.

One of his hands moves from your legs, and you flutter your eyes open, finding his gorgeous face staring at you, your arousal all over his lips and chin. His beatiful brown eyes are locked into yours, watching you closely as he slides a finger inside.

It’s game over for you when he goes back with his mouth, your hands tugging harder at his hair as you whimper. “Felix…!”

You can’t even form the second sentece as you cum, everything tingling and throbbing when you moan loudly, pleasure and heat flooding your entire body.

Felix removes his finger and mouth, leaning back so he can look at you properly, wearing the most drunk and fucked-out expression you’ve ever seen as he sucks his fingers into his mouth, not once breaking eye contact.

Before either of you can even say anything, he stands back up again and kisses you. It’s not fierce or has any of the urgent feeling that it had last time, instead, it feels like a soft crash, messy, a kiss that allows you to taste yourself on him.

He turns the both of you and you find the bed sooner than expected, falling on top of him.

It’s before he can do anything that your hands travel under his sweatpants, and he trembles under your touch.

“Oh, darling...” Felix whimpers, melting to putty in your hands, both figurative and literally. “Y-yes, just like that.” He knows that you’ve ruined him for good, forgetting about the scrunchie on his wrist.

And you forget about it too, sinking him deep in your mouth.

It’s only when he starts tetiching and writhing that he stops you, and in that moment, your body conects back to your mind. You’ve never gone this far before, not with anyone.

“Felix.” You mutter, your voice hoarse. “I’ve… never… you know.”

His eyes grow wide.

“You’ve never had sex before?”

He’s not shaming you for it. He’s confused, because he had been jealous over your boyfriends who he thought got to have you, and he’s growing more aroused, because a small voice in his head is telling him that he can be your first.

“N-no…” he coos at you, kissing you softly.

But you know there’s no one you could trust with this more than him.

“Let me show you what you’ve been missing out on,” and your breathing turns even heavier. “Let me treat you like the princess you are.”

He takes out a condom from his drawer, swiftly rolling it down his length.

Felix kisses your cheeks, helping to ease the tension. Your hands link together, and even if you still have the scrunchie on your wrist, none of you realize that Felix’s scrunchie is no longer on his wrists, but had fallen down to the floor.

“It can hurt a little. But I’m here. It’ll be ok, darling.”

You nod, kissing him softly.

[🔸☆🌆☆🔸]

You can’t help but feel shy when he cleans you up.

It’s slightly awkward, because none of you know how whatever you were was going to work now.

You would never be able to forget this.

He sinks back into bed, his hand laying on your waist, and with a huff, his breathing settles, calming down.

You eyes are locked on his gorgeous face, and now that you’ve kissed him, you can’t help but peck him softly again.

The scrunchie in your wrist bothers you, and you throw it away.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper, your hand traveling to his cheek, stroking it. “I love you.”

But his eyes flutter open, and he grins like a fool at you, launching his body back over yours.

He’s giggling like a madman, peppering kisses all over your face.

“Felix!” His hair tickles you, and you start to laugh too.

He stops, pinning your arms to the sides of your face, and kisses you lovingly.

“I love you too.”

It’s only after you both wake up, afterglow clear on both of your faces that when Minho and Jisung come back from the younger’s place, his eyes grow wide at both of you.

“You guys took what?!!”

~Kats, who now fears someone will find out that she googled how aphrodisiac chocolate works.

[madwomansapologist]

Hi, are you still looking for Baldur's Gate 3 requests? Could you please write something about the main BG3 Companions (+ our boi Halsin) with a Tav/reader who's really short and adorable and just an absolute sweetheart but is horrifyingly powerful in their lore? Like NPCs who know about them back away in fear kinda thing. Maybe Tav can even transform into some sort of battle form where they're like 9 feet tall (as opposed to their usual height of like 4' 10") and can absolutely kick ass on the battlefield?

Thanks so much, I hope you have a wonderful day! Take care!

bg3 companions with a adorably powerful tav

Navigation | More Weirdos | AO3

synopsis: Who could imagine such a sweet thing as you had the reputation of a hero?

warnings: companions (lae'zel, shadowheart, astarion, gale dekarios, wyll ravengard, karlach, halsin, jaheira) x tav. fluff.

note: thank you for your request! oh gods how i missed writing headcanons. i hope you like this, have a wonderful day!

Lae'zel

Lae'zel knew your shared condition had a cure, and was willing to put herself in danger by taking the entire party with her to the nearest crèche. That being said, how couldn't she judge you?

You were too easy on everyone. Making promises you clearly shouldn't, taking them seriously despite her best efforts to put some sense in your head. The party was supposed to only stop walking when surrounded by githyankis, but no burdened tiefling or hurt animal escaped your careful gaze.

That you knew how to fight surprised her, but to see fear and admiration in the eyes of civillians... that made Lae'zel pay more attention to you. You had a reputation. Not as a writer, bard or patron. You're know for striking down your enemies.

Fighting at the goblin's camp, there were so many oponents even Lae'zel didn't knew if it would be her last fight. You saw it too, so you made sure to use everything you had to win. Even if you would rather not turn into an eldritch creature.

She got enchanted by your battle form. Steel and iron where nothing against the pure strenght of your skin. Whatever crossed your path that day suffered at your hands.

That was the first time Lae'zel got happy for being wrong about someone.

"Perhaps I've judged you too hard. You are fierce, foracious, as sharp as my sword and as brave as a red dragon. Keep on surprising me and a istik you'll be no more."

Shadowheart

Shadowheart couldn't care less about the tieflings and their problems, but it was endearing to watch you wandering throught the Coast in an attempt to ensure their safety. It was a sight she couldn't expect to observe in this journey, not when considering the worm twitching behind her eye and the artifact messing with their dreams.

Still, you could shut down her biggest fears with ease. While she tried to remain quiet, you were full of kind words to share with whoever was near. You care for all beings, great and small, and Shadowheart can respect that. A person without a truth to follow is empty, but one with a mission turns into so much more than just a walking corpse.

She focused on protecting you during fights. Always giving you some sort of magic shield, casting sanctuary, begging you to drink potions and elixirs that would keep you safe.

Goblins attacked, and for a second everyone was too surprised to react properly. Except by you. You were quick to defend your party, to fight for them, and won a fight no one was preparad to.

Shadowheart decided not to underestimate you again. Kind words, gentle actions, caring gaze: she was so focused on her own view about you that forgot to pay attention to the way everyone else saw you.

You're powerful. The kinda of powerful that their party had to be grateful that you were fighting besides them.

When you revealed your beast form to her, Shadowheart already knew you were a sight to behold.

"You are full of surprises, aren't you? Good. I like how you keep me on my toes, love."

Astarion

In theory, he should've been delighted with your personality. You were the perfect prey. A leader so sweet, he could change your mind at his will and you wouldn't even noticed. Others respect you. Astarion would be safe and sound.

But Astarion isn't capable of forgetting how easily you fought back when he tried to fool you. How he didn't even saw you moving, and was alone on the floor before he could understand what had hit him.

Instead of a person, you were a walking question mark. How can you be so sickenly adorable, and still so ready to strike down your enemies? Were did the sweet half of you finished and the other one started?

People know you. He saw respect in druid's eyes, fear when goblins heard your name. Halsin knew about you. And so did Minthara.

Few are able to live up to their reputation, but you're one of those. So strong, so brave, but your kindness wasn't ignored by him. It was as if in your head the whole world deserved your kindness, until it did no more. Only then you react.

Astarion don't know what to think about it.

When you attacked as a beast, tearing spiders apart as if they were a piece of meat in your plate, Astarion laughed until his belly ache.

How could be so right and so wrong about someone?

"Don't mind me, darling. I'm just rejoicing at the sight of your bloody hands. Come here. Let me taste your heroic mess."

Gale Dekarios

Gale learned two things about you when you pulled him out of stone: you were kind, and so damn strong.

You were adorable. A perfect equation between what people must do in order to survive and what they must do in order to live well. He can't see you not being surrounded by friends and admirers, all enchanted by your sweet words and rightful attacks.

He feared the party's reaction to the Orb, but a part of him knew you would let him stay. He never imagined you would give him magic artifacts without a second question, or that you would hug him after he told you his whole story.

You didn't let him go. Neither did Gale.

To say he was willing to agree with whatever you did was to say his heart beats. It was only natural. Maybe you both differ on the path you want to take, but the destination is usually the same.

When he saw you feral, body changing to give space to something else, Gale wondered if he was one of those enchanted people surrounding you. If he wasn't fighting for his life, Gale would gadly gaze upon you for the rest of the day.

"Disgusted? I was unable to look away from you! You are the one I love, no claws or tentacles will ever change that. Must I add, my love, your light remains strong in whatever form you decide to use."

Wyll Ravengard

To say the least, he's a fan. Oh, how lovely are the tales of your adventures through Faêrun. He remember arguing with bards about the accuracy of their versions and the reason behind their choice of words. You were what a hero must aim to.

How long were the nights he spend wandering after he was casted out of Baldur's Gate. Lonely nights, but never silent. Wyll's mind fought against itself. He lost everything to help and protect others. Sometimes he worried if he had lost himself too.

Your tales weren't his salvation. None of them shut down those voices that insisted on telling him about the mistakes he made, neither did them shut Mizora. But they inspired him. If you did all those things, remained human even as a beast, he could survive a talkative cambion. Wyll Ravengard can defeat her by staying loyal to himself.

Wyll didn't had to hear your name to know you were fighting next to him, defending the grove against goblins and worgs. He saw enough drawings of you to recognize you from miles afar. When you asked him to be a member of your party, Wyll felt as if a million fireworks exploded inside his chest at the same time.

He did felt anger and pain because of the tadpole, but never fear. Fighting beside you, Wyll knew he didn't had to fear for his future. And after seeing how willing you were to argue with multiple cambions, he started to have hope.

"I used to read about legends, myths of bravery and rightousness. Some see it as just tales for the naive. Thank you, my heart. For proving them wrong time after time."

Karlach

She's the only one with an excuse for not knowing who you are. When strangers call you by your entire name, when companions use your epithet: Karlach just never thought about it. She ignored it, paying no mind to others.

But Karlach did knew you were a absolute sweetheart. What you didn't had of height you compensate with a gigantic personality. For her, the way you behaved was simply alluring.

While many prefer to think the world is a bad place and no one living there can chose to be or do better, you are just another reason for her to know that it's bullshit. Because Karlach is good, despise it all. And Wyll. And you.

And Minsc!!!

You had a fire on you whenever you had to fight. She didn't need to know your story to see how great you can be. Some people just have that. She don't know if that fire is born or forged, but some people just have it.

To see you as a beast made her the most happy woman in Faêrun. She got speechless, all she could do was laugh and run around to have a better view of you ending the Steel Watch.

"You got 'em, soldier! Go on, bite his arm off! You see that monster over there? The one with glowing eyes. That's the love of my fucking life."

Halsin

He saw you before. Druids and harpist fought against sharrans, and you were one of the heroes who joined their cause. At that time Halsin didn't talked to you, but he knew you fought until the very end and stayed to help with the infirm.

When you rescued him, Halsin knew you remembered him too. There was some understanding between you both, a companionship that only those who foght together can share.

He knew you were a hero, one of those who fight wars that don't affect them because someone needs too, but your personality was a good surprise. Halsin haven't imagined you so easy going. Always offering smiles, light jokes, being clumsy without a care when danger was far away.

After the battle against sharrans, he thought those who refered to you as a monster were trying to make others understand how eficient you were. It surprised him to see they were just being honest.

Nothing would stop Halsin from turning into a bear and joining you.

"In this damned city, you are a beacon of hope. The Oak Father graced us with your light. From your fiece strikes to your honey soaked words... I am lucky to live at the same time as you, my love."

Jaheira

As a fellow adventurer, it surprised Jaheira that you weren't already tired. You both lived for so long, did so much, it would be only natural for you to give a pause on your endless smiles and envied patience. She was wrong, but that wasn't a bad thing.

Jaheira knew how this life can steal things from you. Peace feels like a threat, to stop make you feel like a prey, to laugh makes you wonder if it will be the last time. Is impossible to be a hero without losing. She's glad you didn't lose yourself in your path.

There was an unspoken pact between you both. The stories, the songs, the faux memories. So many think to know everything about you two. Sometimes Jaheira will read you a book you're in when she knows it's a shameless lie, and you sing her songs about adventures she did not lived.

Your laugh could make her feel younger. Alive. You both were so differents, but knew each other in a way few could.

Whenever you chose to strike as a monster, she would join you as a myrmidon and had her fun. You both deserve it.

"I did well not underestimating you, cub. It is impossible not to laugh at those who can't see how your bright smile hides sharp fangs. As pretty as a diamond, and as fierce too."

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

BALDUR’S GATE 3 TAGLIST: @citrusbunnies

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.

[bumblesimagines]

With Fire and Blood

Request: Yes or No

Summary: Unable to deal with his mother's indifference to his worries any longer, Jace turns his anger onto the dragonseeds

Pronouns: He/Him/His, M!Reader

CW/TW: Typical GoT/HOTD warnings, classism?, bastardphobia lmao, Jace is an angry lil hypocritical twink, suggestive content, era typical insults and such, spoilers for s2

All bro did was serve face and I cannot stop writing for him

~~~

Jace was well-aquatinted with the hot emotion that made his blood boil and hands curl into fists ready to swing at any moment.

The maesters claimed when he was born, he left his mother screaming and kicking wildly, nearly wriggling himself out of the maester and midwives' arms whilst they tried calming him enough to hand him off to his exhausted yet amused mother. He supposed it meant he'd always been short-tempered but he hardly found it to be his fault when he'd been brought into the world with looks that firmly branded him as Other. 

He'd been a child when it first dawned on him that there was a possibility he was not Laenor Velaryon's son, that neither of his little brothers were either. His mother never provided him with a full answer, only strained smiles and reassurances that he was a Targaryen.

Some nights, he'd stay up and stare at himself in the mirror, combing his fingers through his hair and imagining it was as silver as his uncles; poking at the area around his eyes and envisioning them to be lilac instead of mud brown. Jace tried ignoring it as best he could but the whispers and glances always tightened around him, reminding him he'd never be seen as anything but a bastard. 

Things grew easier in Dragonstone. Until the war broke and his mother took his idea of searching for kin to the filthy streets of King's Landing.

Truthfully, he nearly wept hot tears of anger when he first saw the army of bastards trekking into the castle. They were peasants, mongrels, filth who stole, lied, and betrayed for their own means, and they looked more like his family than he did. He despised it, despised the fact no one would ever question their parentage or blood when people would look puzzled or disgusted when they saw him.

It frightened him, too.

He'd grown uneasy when Rhaenyra fell with child soon after her marriage to Daemon, and the uneasiness grew when she bore him a little brother with those striking violet eyes and vibrant silver hair. A sister, he may have forgiven, but a brother? And one who looked more Targaryen than he did? Born to the power-seeking Daemon?

When four men stepped out from the blood and fire of the massacre with three dragons, Jace practically saw his future before his eyes; finding himself in his mother's spot, tearfully fighting against his own blood in desperate hope of claiming the birthright nobody believed to be his for the stain in his blood. He despised them, he decided. He'd already been distrustful of mere peasants so far below them entering the castle, but for those same mere peasants claiming dragons? 

That familiar flush of anger swept over him and he stared forward, his palms digging into the armrests below him. His mother had publicly chosen, right before him, to ride out with Addam of Hull over him, her own flesh and blood! Jace caught Baela's eye from across the table and she offered him a soft grimace followed by an empathic smile. 

"Well," One of the bastards broke the silence. Jace believed his name to be (Y/N), although he'd hardly been paying any attention when Rhaenyra brought the dragonseeds forth for everyone to become acquainted with. He only recalled the way his mother sucked in a sharp breath when the young man revealed himself to be the son of Daemon and a brothel worker. (Y/N) set his cup down on the table, swiping his tongue over his lips and rising. "I'm, uh, taking my leave, or whatever it is you're supposed to say." 

Baela blinked. "You have yet to finish your meal. You should finish." The softness in her voice made Jace's brows knit together. They were merely half-siblings through blood, not through any special means. A lady such as Baela had no need to speak so kindly to an unwanted pest from King's Landing.

"I have no desire to." (Y/N) responded, and Jace's fingers twitched when he left without bowing or acknowledging his prince. 

"More for me," Ulf said disgustingly through a mouthful of food, his hand scooping up the plate and scraping the remaining food onto his before he handed it off to a bewildered servant. Without his mother there, Jace allowed himself to scoff freely at the childish act, his eyes rolling as he cut into his meat and chewed on it.

By the time dinner ended and the dragonseeds slinked off to their newly given bedchambers, Jace still couldn't help but stew in his disappointment and bitter anger. He escorted Baela to her rooms, chewing her ear off with his complaints and growing insecurities on the way there, before bidding her a grumpy goodnight that she chuckled at.

Jace walked, or rather stomped, in the direction of his bedchambers but a figure standing in one of the balconies caught his eye, only fully capturing his attention when he noticed a dragon head peeking over the railing. Jace stopped and stared, marveling at the light gray coloring of the dragon, something akin to the glow of the moonlight. A soft, almost lavender color dusted the tips of the dragon's scales and horns and added to her beauty.

The Dragonkeepers claimed Chyrys had hatched from a clutch of eggs belonging to Silverwing just a year before his own dragon, Vermax, had hatched in his crib. After her failure and near-death at claiming Vermithor, Rhaena hoped the docile Chyrys would accept her as a rider, but the she-dragon refused to allow her on. Yet, she'd accepted a bastard as her rider. 

"Have you come to complain some more, Prince?" (Y/N)'s voice echoed in the silence of the night. His hand dragged over the snout of Chyrys, enticing a soft rumble of contentment from her. "I hear you've exchanged words with your dear mother over us." 

"You do not belong here." Jace told him before he could stop himself, the anger he'd tried desperately to entertain only in private moments spilling over. "You will never be one of us. You will never be a true Targaryen or a prince, no matter who your father is." He spat, lingering in the archway connecting the hallway. (Y/N)'s lips curled upward, and his amusement only made Jace's hands tremble with barely contained rage. How dare he laugh at a prince?

(Y/N) peered over his shoulder and retracted his hand from his dragon, the sound of rocks tumbling down the cliff toward the crashing waves below filling the air when Chyrys pushed herself away from the cliff and took off into the night sky. "You are aware that while my eyes may be (E/C), my hair is a color you'll only obtain when you've grown old and weary, no?" Jace's jaw clenched.

"Mind your tongue when you speak to me, you mongrel." Jace snarled, forgetting all about his desire to appease his mother by begrudgingly accepting the bastards' presence. It was unprincely of him to even be in the presence of someone of such low station, let alone bicker with one. His words struck his pride, however. "I am Rhaenyra Targaryen's son, I am her heir. You are the bastard of Daemon and the son of a whore."

He struck a nerve with the mention of his mother, he realized it when (Y/N)'s amused grin vanished into a scowl. His weak spot. "What? Are you not used to hearing the truth? I know your mother was a whore, and I am certain if it weren't for your silver hair, no one would believe you are the son of the late King's brother." Jace continued, eager to release his anger on someone deserving of it. 

"Just as no one believes you are the son of Ser Laenor Velaryon?" (Y/N)'s tone was edged with irritation, sharp enough to dip into Jace's gut painfully. He stepped forward toward him and Jace's hand instinctively flew to his side where his sword typically was, but for the sake of dinner, he'd left it in his bedchambers. Jace swallowed thickly when (Y/N) grew near, the smell of salt heavy on the bastard's skin from his time on the balcony. "Your brothers were never meant to rule Driftmark because your ancestral seat is in the very place Daemon Targaryen flew out to. You should have flown there first, treated with your family. I'm certain they would have welcomed you with such loving arms." 

"That is a vile accusation worthy of-"

"A vile accusation? Or the bitter truth you do not wish to hear?" (Y/N) arched a brow, the look of irritation he'd sported replaced with cruel amusement. He held eye contact as he stepped aside, his shoulder slamming into Jace's roughly enough to force the prince to stagger backward from the force, a hand raising to clutch it. Jace's features contorted. 

"You were born nothing, you will die nothing!" Jace called, his voice bouncing off the stone walls but (Y/N) paid him little to no heed, his indifference to Jace bringing him to his tipping point. 

A prisoner to the very anger that'd sent his true father away to his death, Jace's legs sprang into action and marched after him, his hands curling and uncurling. He could feel his heartbeat in his ears, the flush of anger over his face, and the aching desire to dig his hands into something until it broke. His palm slammed against the door leading into (Y/N)'s bedchambers, throwing it open enough for Jace to step through before he tossed it shut, the wood vibrating from the force. 

"Someone ought to teach you animals some manners." Jace hissed when (Y/N) faced him, the dragonseed blatantly rolling his eyes at him and staring at him like an exasperated parent would their troublesome child. He stepped right up to him, their chest and noses bumping together from the proximity but Jace's hands remained pinned to his sides. His mother would surely scold him for laying a hand on him, and he refused to disobey her further no matter the temptation. 

"Careful now," (Y/N) said lowly, his breath fanning against Jace's face and drawing his attention down to his lips. "You should recall we're cut from the same cloth, as Ulf said." 

His blunt nails dug into the skin of his palms until they left deep imprints, sharply inhaling through his nose as his eyes darted back upward to meet (Y/N)'s. Jace stared at him, the tension in the room nearly beginning to suffocate him before he lunged forward, his hands grasping the collar of his shirt and lips slamming against his. A muffled noise of surprise left (Y/N) and the two staggered backward until (Y/N) collapsed back on his bed with Jace atop him. Jace pulled back with heavy pants, his hands still clutching the shirt and his brain beginning to process what exactly he'd do. 

Mortification slipped in ever so slowly, followed by guilt for having his first kiss be with anyone but his darling betrothed. (Y/N) stared up at him with widened eyes and parting lips that suddenly looked enticing to Jace. Gods be good. Jace squeezed his eyes shut, desperately reminding himself he was engaged and that laying with someone such as (Y/N) would be an utter stain on his royal title. His eyes tentatively parted to absorb (Y/N)'s reaction, but his features had softened instead of hardened. 

"I hate you." Jace exhaled quietly and released his shirt, his hands planting themselves on either side of (Y/N)'s head. "You are a commoner. The smallfolk have no place in court, no reason to even step within a castle unless it is to beg for our kindness. I wished for nothing more than to watch Chyrys burn you to crisp-"

"But alas, here I am." (Y/N)'s hands cautiously settled on Jace's hips. "And with or without my presence, you are and will always be a bastard." 

Jace huffed. "Shut your mouth."

"Make me, Lord Strong."

With little to no hesitance, Jace swooped down and delivered a rough kiss to his lips. He had no experience, as embarrassing as it was, and he hoped it was far from obvious as he pressed his mouth harder against (Y/N)'s. He resisted the urge to jerk back when (Y/N) licked into his mouth and focused on clumsily trying to rid himself of his clothing. His cheeks flared at the soft groan that felt him, his spinning mind edging him on to entice those noises out of (Y/N) rather than allow someone such as the dragonseed to elicit them from a prince. His teeth caught (Y/N)'s bottom lip and lightly bit down, satisfied when the hint of metallic hit his tongue.

(Y/N) only chuckled despite the blood sliding along his lip, his hand rising to cup the back of Jace's head and fingers slipping through his brown curls before he tugged. A sharp, whiny curse escaped Jace and humiliation filled the prince when he felt his breeches grow annoyingly tight against him from the act. (Y/N) laughed in response, his eyes bright with mischievous delight at the discovery that made Jace's skin warm further. 

"Bastard," Jace swore.

"I know I am," (Y/N) pushed himself up into a sitting position, his head burying itself in Jace's neck and teeth clamping down hard enough to leave a mark. He brushed his lips up along the side of his throat until he reached Jace's ear, his free hand pushing into Jace's hips and making their hips press together. Jace cursed again. "And so are you, My Prince."

[rebelliousneferut]

fan frenzy | jude bellingham

summary; when jude's fangirls from borussia dortmund don't love you but things change with your move to madrid

genre; angst, smau

face claim; kaaviya sambasivam

note; English is not my first language

masterlist!

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

yourusername

liked by judebellingham, jobebellingham, username and others

yourusername date night 🌉✨

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username can someone explain to me why is jude dating with her??

username jude is too much for her

username he doesn't even pay attention to her, she's always the one who looks desperate

username he needs someone prettier

username fr

username i wait for the day he opens his eyes

swallowing the bile rising in my throat, I scrolled through the comments on my latest photo. the negativity was a suffocating wave, a stark contrast to the joy we shared in the picture.

dating jude bellingham was a whirlwind from the start. we met in dortmund, sparks flying despite our initial clashes. over time, that spark evolved into a love as powerful and exhilarating as his world-class strikes. jude, with his kind heart and dazzling smile, was a revelation. despite his young age and rising fame, his patience and unwavering affection showed me a love i never thought possible.

living the dream alongside the man i adored shouldn't have come with a price tag. but jude, besides being a phenomenal footballer, also boasted a massive, and sometimes harsh, fanbase. the adoration soon turned towards me, morphing into a relentless stream of negativity. hateful messages, fueled by envy, became a daily torment. i shielded jude, who was blissfully unaware thanks to his social media inactivity. but the constant barrage chipped away at my self-esteem, leaving me questioning every aspect of myself and our relationship.

jude's future was bright, and i convinced myself i was letting him down by being a target. so, with a voice thick with emotion, i began, "jude, i think we should take some time."

his hand shot out, his touch warm against mine. "why do you say that?" he pleaded, his eyes filled with a concern that mirrored my own. "is this about the move? because if it is, we can talk about it. we'll figure it out together, like always."

i shook my head, tears welling up. "it's everything, jude. all the hate, the negativity... i can't take it anymore. i don't want to be the reason you're attacked."

jude's brow furrowed, his expression a mix of determination and tenderness. "who cares what they say? they don't know us, y/n. they don't know the way you light up a room with your smile, or the fire you ignite in my heart. you are strong, kind, and more beautiful than any comment could ever diminish."

he cupped my face in his hands, his touch wiping away a stray tear. "you are the woman i love, the thought of facing anything without you is..." his voice trailed off, his eyes searching mine.

taking a deep breath, i confessed, "the comments... they make me doubt myself, jude. they make me doubt us."

jude's jaw clenched for a moment, then softened. he pulled me into a tight embrace, the warmth of his body a familiar comfort. "we'll face it together," he murmured against my hair. "we'll show them what true love looks like. and if they can't see it, then their opinion doesn't matter. all that matters is you and me."

and i decided to trust him.

"maybe a fresh start in spain would be better," i thought. "maybe they won't hate me there."

the following day, the world woke up to a new post on jude's social media – a photo of us, radiating pure joy.

judebellingham

liked by yourusername, jobebellingham, footballwags and others

judebellingham my rock, my confidante, my love, my y/n. to anyone who has anything negative to say, save your breath. we're happy, and that's all that matters.

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yourusername i love you so much 🥺❤️

❤️ liked by the author

judebellingham i love you more than words can express

username i never understood the hatred towards her, she is beautiful and they make a nice couple

username madrid welcomes you with open arms 🫶🏽

username she makes jude happy and that's all that matters

username i still don't like her

username touch grass

the response was a wave of positivity, drowning out the negativity. the spanish fans, known for their passion, embraced me with open arms. it wasn't an instant fix, but it was a start. jude, by my side, had become my shield, our love a beacon against the darkness. we were in this together, and together, we would face anything.

[starstruckmiraclekitty]

Hi hi!!

Okay so I was thinking what about a task 141 + big man konig with a reader that likes to slap their ass cheekily or just plain ass grab them,any time is fair game,the boys are all in the barracks or in a meeting room? Better line up. 😂

Only if you're comfy ofc!!

Aha! This is perfect, lol. Hope this does what you were looking for justice😊 did a little twist as the reader doing it for the first time.

Warnings: sexual references, mild swearing

141 + König x GN Reader When You Slap/Grab Their Ass Playfully.

Simon "Ghost" Riley-

You'd seen videos circling the internet of people slapping their partners asses randomly to see their reactions, and you wanted to try it on Simon. While you were mildly terrified of what his reaction would be, you decided you still wanted to go with it.

The two of you were cleaning up after a home cooked meal, and you knew now was the time to strike. He was wearing a tight-fitting pair of sweats, and his ass looked just too good not to hit.

You sauntered up to him with a smile and gave his ass a loud "SMACK".

He set the dish he was holding down in the sink before turning head slowly to look at you, a dark look crossing his face.

You gulped at the look on his face before backing away. "I-I had to. I'm sorry."

"Had to?" He asked, and you nodded meekly in response.

"Or wanted to?" A smirk started to form on his lips.

".....both?" You mumbled sheepishly.

"That so?" The smirk lining his face was terrifying to you. He moved closer to you, effectively trapping you against the counter. "Why don't you head on upstairs, yeah? I'll up in a few. "

It seemed Simon, too, enjoyed smacking your ass, as evident from the large red handprint that was left on your ass cheek later that night.

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish-

You and Johnny had a little bet going on who out of the two of you would be the first to crack without sex. Johnny had said he'd be able to last longer, and you desperately wanted to prove him wrong.

It started out simple enough, soft arm touches, thigh squeezes, "subtly" grinding yourself against his crotch. Nothing seemed to be cracking him, to your surprise.

Determined to win, you had one final card up your sleeve. Johnny was out working on his car, minding his own business. You'd be lying if you said you didn't find the sight incredibly attractive.

He was bent over, wearing a tight muscle T-shirt and tight workout shorts. You bit your lip in anticipation and walked over to carry out your plan.

"Hey baby. Looking good out here." You cooed as you walked up behind him.

As he peered around to look at you, you slid your hands down his waist until you reached his bum and squeezed the flesh there firmly before smoothing your hands up and down.

"I uhhhh, fucking hell Y/N." Johnny shook his head and moved away from your wandering hands. "Nope not falling for it. Nope."

You moved closer to him once more and gave his ass a harsh smack, before walking away.

Johnny set the tools he was working with down and came over to you, throwing you over his shoulder as he made his way to the bedroom.

Needless to say, he lost your bet, but not that you or he were complaining.

John Price-

John was giving a debrief to 141 in the conference room, and you couldn't help but let your eyes drift to his backside. He was walking back and forth while talking, giving you a perfect side view of his ass.

You turned to look at the boys and saw not a single one of them were paying attention, as they were probably all beyond exhausted.

Deciding to have some fun, you peered one more time to make sure you didn't have an audience and waited until John made his way past you before you made your move. He started to make his way past you, and when he came within arms reach, you slapped his ass.

Truly, you hadn't meant for the smack to be as loud as it was. You appeared to have misjudged the pressure, as everyone in the room, including Price, stopped and stared at you.

Rather than being embarrassed about it, you smiled widely and settled back into your seat as if nothing had happened, ignoring the looks of horror from the boys.

"Y/N, a word, outside if you will?" Price said sternly as he promptly forced you up and escorted you out of the room.

The minute the two of you made it outside, he pushed you up against the wall with a loose grip around your neck. "Thought that was funny did you?"

"I couldn't help myself, sir." You bit your lip to stop yourself from laughing, as Price dragged his eyes up and down your figure.

"Couldn't help yourself? You won't be laughing later. I'll guarantee you of that."

Price kept to his word later that night. You surely weren't laughing as he took you from behind, slapping your ass repeatedly as you took exactly what he wanted to give you.

Kyle Gaz Garrick-

141 was getting ready to be sent out on a mission, and the 5 of you were getting on your gear. You could feel your nerves bubbling in your belly in anticipation of the mission.

Looking over, you saw Gaz putting on his gear, particularly the band around his thigh for his knife. You couldn't really say why you wanted to slap his ass, but unable to help yourself, you walked over to him, giving a resounding smack to his ass.

Shocked, Gaz turned to you with wide eyes before looking around to make sure nobody had seen what you just did. "Babe?"

You gave him a small smile before returning to your gear. Feeling Gaz walk up behind you, you looked to him. "What's up, love?"

"I think you know what's up. What was that for?" He asked.

"Just a good luck smack, that's all." You put both hands up in mock innocence.

"A good luck smack? That right?" A smirk formed on Gaz's face. "Well, I think I need a good luck smack of my own."

You turned to try and flee before Gaz wrapped his arms around you. "Nowhere to run, sweetheart."

The slap to your ass that ensued had everyone in the room turning to you and Gaz with wide eyes, much to your amusement.

König-

Poor König. He was minding his own business cleaning his weapons in the armory when you walked in. He was bent over staring in concentration at the gun he was in the middle of cleaning, giving you a perfect view of his ass.

You'd always wondered what his reaction would be if you were to go up and hit it, but you were always too nervous to try it. You were in a particularly playful mood, so you'd walked up to him with a polite smile before slapping his ass with all the force you could muster.

"Maus...have I done something wrong?" König asked timidly, standing up to his full height as he turned to you. His face was scrunched in confusion.

You bit your lip to contain your laughter at his reaction. "No? Baby, why would you think that."

"Oh. I um. Well. You spanked me, so I thought I must've done something to upset you." König's cheeks were red from embarrassment.

"Oh gosh, no Kö! You just.. looked really good, so I.... felt the need to slap your backside?" You now felt unbelievably awkward, not expecting this reaction.

"I see." König stood and contemplated your words for a few moments, before moving behind you. You felt a harsh smack on your ass, and heard a small giggle erupt from your boyfriend.

"Kö?"

"You look good too, so I smacked your ass." A tiny smile appeared on his lips.

From then on, König made it a point to slap your ass any time he deemed you looked good, so your ass was constantly imprinted with his large hand prints.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: thanks for reading!!!😊🩷

[fxirybun]

🍂PAC: looking at the stars , admiring from afar

ALTERNATIVE TITLE : "who is secretly admiring you ?"

now that october has arrived , this pick-a-card reading is inspired by the song "we fell in love in october" by girl in red.

this is a collective reading ! take what resonates and leave what doesn't. i cannot guarantee 100% accuracy. take the pac reading lightly ჱ̒ ｰ̀֊ｰ́ )

ෆ⸒⸒ PILE ONE 🪴

01 their energy

this person is someone whom you know already. i'm getting the word "coworkers" so perhaps this person is in the same field of work , or class as you. for some of you , this could be a classmate / schoolmate of yours that you didn't seem to pay attention or notice. the song "hopelessly devoted by you" appeared in my mind whilst channeling their energy. i sensed that whoever this person is , they seem to feel devastated about not being able to be close to you.

it's like their dreams were crushed by some unwanted force. i'm also getting that some of you may have rejected this person before and how your response to them gave them a pang in the heart. "i couldn't believe it". nevertheless , they have tons of feelings for you that seem to be bottled up by them , waiting for it to be opened. you make them feel happy each time they see you or have a conversation with them.

this person is currently single at the moment and how they seems to be ambitious in trying to pursue you. i'm sensing that their energy feels as if they wish to be part of your circle and would love to hang out with you. they think that you're fun to work with based on what they've observed of you. somehow , i'm getting something about being physically close ? it's possible that this person can be a bit touchy such as holding someone's hand or giving a hug from behind.

02 their possible apperance

your secret admirer might have a mysterious and reserved aura. this is someone who may not reveal their emotions very easily. they are well-mannered such as being polite with their actions and words. they're possibly conventional in their appearance and behavior. this person could also be someone who leans on the taller side. i'm sensing that they're confident yet can be a bit distant , a lone wolf who keeps their emotions guarded or has a serious demeanor.

it seems to me that they exude a calm and composed presence but are a bit hard to read at first , having a reserved or serious look on their face. they may have a clean-cut look on themselves. i'm also getting as to how they don't stand out in an obvious way , or perhaps their looks change depending on how they present themselves on a certain day. an example would be they would wear something casual and sometimes would try to wear more formal clothing.

EXTRAS : earth & air energies , virgo , capricorn , aquarius , libra , 3 , uranus & saturn energies , movement , dark hair & eyes , pale , bushy eyebrows , wavy hair , tall nose , striking posture , there's something about music , part of a band , knows how to play an instrument , flexible , ballet flats , deer , trumpet , bunny , music note.

ෆ⸒⸒ PILE TWO 🍊

01 their energy

this is someone you may have known for a very long time. for some of you , i'm getting something about childhood lovers , perhaps you have known them since you were little. the two of you shared a fond experience that may as well have been engraved in either your or this person's memories. they seem to be a sentimental person because i'm sensing their energy of wishing to go back from the past due to how immensely they felt during that time.

this person's energy feels conflicted and somewhat unsettled. they might be struggling with feelings of insecurity within themselves. their might be an inner tension between wanting to appear strong and successful and feeling unsure about themselves. they may be acting in ways that are cocky or even materialistic to compensate for deeper insecurities. this current state is holding them back from expressing themselves due to the fear of acting vulnerable.

i felt that they were hesitant to step forward or reveal their feelings , possibly because they didn’t feel ready or worthy. this person feels disconnected from their own emotions or struggles to express their feelings openly. i'm sensing that they're in the process of releasing their old selves. through this , they'll emerge with a clearer sense of self and a more open heart. for now, their energy feels like it's in transition , caught between the old and the new.

02 their possible apperance

your secret admirer likely has a warm and inviting appearance. they may have a graceful , elegant , and perhaps feminine quality to their look. they could have soft features with their face or their overall structure. may have a refined sense of style or a presence that draws people in. they might have a radiant complexion , possibly with a warm skin tone that gives off a healthy glow. they have captivating eyes that reflect their bright disposition.

they might have a mystical or dreamy quality about them. they could have striking or unique features such as unusual hair color or style that sets them apart. they tend to sparkle or shine in a way that makes them stand out in a crowd. this person could be someone who exudes confidence and has this charm that can make a person feel deeply connected or even a sense of admiration , making them have a lasting impression that is quite memorable.

EXTRAS : earth & water energies , taurus , cancer , scorpio , pluto / venus / sun / saturn energies , bright colors , yellow , daisies , soft / chubby cheeks , light hair color , long hair , soft hands , ribbons , earrings , star , popular among the others , has deep roots to its ancestors , squirrel , tree , frog , pumpkin.

ෆ⸒⸒ PILE THREE 🌷

01 their energy

i'm getting a player energy when it comes to the person who is secretly admiring you. this person may likely have multiple crushes on people , idealizing them in a way that suits their needs and wants. they can be very aggressive with their movements or how they tend to act on an impulse. it's like they'll do something in such a rush due to the spike of adrenaline within them. "jump to conclusions" this person is the type who loves to tease others , very playful with their actions.

their energy is endless and they seem to not know when to calm down or take the time to recharge themselves. i sensed that they're night owl , they may be mostly active during nighttime. this person is leaning more on the extrovert side of things and how they tend to be seen as a talkative person. it's as if they have a lot of ideas swirling in their mind but are unsure how to express them. they could be dealing with fears that prevent them from taking action towards you , which made them feel frustrated.

there's something about you that made them change their assumptions about you. they may be reconsidering their approach in trying to win you over. i'm getting something about a romance trope like grumpy x sunshine , especially the anime kaichou wa maid-sama. perhaps this is how they're going to act towards you. this person can be flighty and may tend to pick a fight or bully / bicker as a way to romance you , which i find it funny lmao.

02 their possible apperance

your secret admirer’s physical appearance may reflect a blend of strength , sophistication , and an air of mystery. they might have a lean , athletic build with an energetic presence. this is someone who takes care of their physical health and has an active lifestyle. they may also carry themselves with confidence , making their strength evident in their posture. they may likely have an enigmatic quality or a serious demeanor.

they may have sharp features , conceivably with an intense gaze that captivates attention. their clothing style might lean towards the formal or classic , aligning with the refinement of the current beauty standards. has a well-groomed appearance , often presenting themselves in a way that commands respect and attention. this person has a taller nose bridge, reminding me of doja cat’s famous line “i like big noses because you can kind of like , sit on them".

EXTRAS : air & water energies , gemini , libra , pisces , scorpio , mars / saturn / sun / neptune / venus energies, light to dark-medium hair color , tan , messy look , blue , eyeglasses , smart yet witty at times , unconventionally funny , loves independence , mug , maybe into drinking , hot air balloon , owl , american flag , school.

[pretty-circa006]

OKAY imagine IMAGINE reader sees negan/jeffrey naked for the first time AND sees his chest full of chest hair THENNNN nakedly grinds on his chest

Negan x F! Reader

tags nudity, smut, grinding, chest hair fetish i think??

note i did my best, i hope you like it

wc 1.5k

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Negan sits at the head of the table with Lucille in hand and his leather jacket resting on the back of his metal chair. He’s explaining something, likely what the Saviors’ next move against Alexandria is going to be, but it all flies above her head. Her eyes watch his lips as they move in tune with his words, his hazel eyes as they alternate eye contact with each Savior at the table, and occasionally glance down at what parts of his body were visible above the table. 

“Ya get all that, darlin’?” He asks, looking at her. 

“Oh..yeah! Uh huh. Yes…sir,” she lies. The deadpan look Negan sends her way tells her that he is not convinced, and honestly, neither is she. She bashfully looks away from him and down at the table, this time actually trying to pay attention to the rest of the meeting. 

With a bang of his barb wired bat to the metal table, he dismisses everyone as he gets up and leaves, too. She's the last one out of the room, partly because she didn't want to meet Negan's eye on the way out but mainly because she wanted to watch him as he left. Before she can leave the room something catches her eye—Negan's jacket. She looks around the room, making sure it's empty before walking over to his chair and grabbing the expensive looking leather garment. She picks it up and it almost feels unreal to be holding it. She hesitantly brings it up to her nose and breathes in the scent: leather and manliness. She could get lost in it and almost does, but she quickly remembers the task at hand and rushes out the room to catch up to Negan. 

With the jacket cradled in her arms, she hurries down the halls in search of the man in charge—he's nowhere to be seen. She sees his right hand, Simon, walking idly down the hall. 

"Wait, Simon. Do you know where Negan went?" she asks him. The mustached man's eyes drift down to the jacket in her arms and back up to her eyes with suspicion. 

"What're you doin' with Negan's jacket," he questions, reaching down for it as he does. She clutches it closer and moves it out of reach. 

"He left it in the meeting room, so I'm bringin' it back to him. Do you know where he went?" 

"I can give it to him, it's no trouble." 

Annoyed with Simon's insistence, she sidesteps him and storms down the hall, protectively clutching the jacket. 

"I'll handle it, thanks!" 

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Nobody said anything when she knocked on his bedroom door, so she waited a second. She knocks again and yields the same results. She tries the doorknob and surprisingly, it gives, opening the door and letting her into his bedroom. Until now, she'd never been in his room. The sheer luxury of it all strikes her with awe. The king sized bed, the leather couches and chairs, the tall windows and dark curtains, even when the world was normal she's never seen anything anything like this. 

The sound of Negan's voice saying her name snapped her attention away from the room and onto him. He's standing in the middle of the room, practically naked other than the towel wrapped dangerously low around his hips. His tattoos are on full display along with the salt and pepper hair on his torso. Unintentionally, her eyes drift down his body to his belly button, to his v line, and even his–

"My eyes are up here, sweetheart," he reminds her, forcing her eyes to meet his hazel ones. 

"Ah, shit! Sorry, I umm..." 

"The hell are ya doin' in my bedroom?" he asks. 

"You left your jacket," she holds the jacket out to him, to which he accepts. 

"Thanks..." He still looks at her suspiciously as she awkwardly rocks on her heels and doesn't leave. 

"Uh, you're dismissed." She's about to turn and leave, but the sound of fabric hitting the floor keeps her there. Her face burns with heat and eyes widen as she makes eye contact with his dick. He always brags about his size, but now she has proof that he was never exaggerating. Negan doesn't make any moves to grab his towel nor cover himself, instead, he's smirking at her, amused by wide eyes and dropped jaw. Subconsciously, her thighs squeeze together at the feeling of heat pooling in her core.  

"Y'alright, darlin'?" he asks out of amusement rather than concern. She blinks rapidly as her mouth opens and closes but no words come out. Her eyes alternate from meeting his to dropping down to his penis again. 

"S-sorry! Sorry!" she apologizes as she covers her eyes with her hands. The attempt to cover her eyes is fruitless since she's looking through the gaps in her fingers anyway.

"Like watcha see?" he teases. He half expects her embarrassment to take over and for her to run away, but instead she stands her ground and nods. 

"Yes, s-sir." Her breathing is shallow as she shifts around trying to subtly sooth the needy ache in her throbbing pussy. Negan can tell that she wants him, needs him even, and honestly seeing her so needy and desperate is a turn on for him. 

"Well, you can either get the fuck outta my room or take your goddamn clothes off. The choice is yours, doll, but make it quick." 

He didn't have to ask her twice, she's already unbuttoning her jeans. In a rush, she clumsily toes off her shoes before stepping out of her pants and panties. She wishes she could've given Negan a show instead of the unsexy rush-job she's currently putting on but luckily for her, Negan finds her sex crazed desperation for him endearing. But she's taking a little too long for his liking. He approaches her and pulls her shirt over her head before unclasping her bra and discarding the items. 

"Holy shit, baby. You look downright fuckin' delicious," he compliments as he eyes her naked body from head to toe. His arms snake around her and pull her body into his. His hard length slides between her thighs, almost slotted between her lower lips. Her hands slide up his chest, her fingers weaving through the wispy hairs on his chest. By the back of her neck, he pulls her in for a heated kiss, teeth clashing as their tongues get to know each other's mouths. His hands slide down her back and around the curve of her ass before squeezing and kneading it in his hands. He holds her firmly and close as he thrusts his dick along her soft inner thighs. Their pleasured moans mix in their mouths which are still attached to each other. As they kiss, her hands never leave his chest. Her fingers continuously play with his chest hair and occasionally give it a gentle tug. 

He pulls away from the kiss, the string of saliva between them breaks. He looks down at her, his hazel eyes dark with lust. She looks back up at him, her eyes begging him to fuck her. 

"You like my chest hair, don't you, babydoll?" She just giggles but doesn't any anything and continues to doodle abstract swirls with her finger on his chest. 

"I asked you a goddamn question," he says sternly. 

"I do, sir." Without warning, he picks her up by the back of her thighs and she reflexively wraps her legs around his waist. While still holding her, he lays down on the bed with her now straddling his waist. 

"Get yourself off on it," he orders in a way that leaves no room for questions. But she has some anyway. 

"Wh...what?!" she asks through a bout of nervous laughter. 

"If you like my chest hair so much, get yourself off on it, baby." 

"What if I crush you o-or something?" 

He scoffs and rolls his eyes before just pulling her onto his chest by her thighs. He smirks, enjoying the view of having such a beautiful woman on top of him. 

"Well, I'm waitin'," he huffs. Her hands cautiously grip his shoulders before she begins grinding her hips against his strong chest. Her movements are slow and apprehensive at first, but eventually pleasure starts building up. The friction of his chest hair against her clit feels better than she expected and brings her closer to her orgasm. Negan watches her from beneath his thick eyelashes, in awe with the way her tits move in unison with her grinding. 

"I shoulda made you my fuckin' wife," he comments as his hands caress her thighs. 

"Better late than never, right?" comes her breathy reply. She's close and Negan can tell by her breathlessness and sweaty, flushed face. Her hand creeps down between her legs and she rubs her clit in quick circles, urging her orgasm closer. Her thighs squeeze his ribcage and her eyes screw shut as the dam breaks and her orgasm comes crashing over her. 

“You liked that, didn’t you?” He teases. She climbs off his chest and flops onto the bed beside him. 

“Mmm hmm.” She nuzzles into the crook of his neck. He wraps his arm around snugly her as she  caresses his chest. 

“So what was that you were saying about makin’ me your wife…?”

[lis-likes-fics]

Dramatic

Pairing: Spencer Reid x adhd!bau!Reader Word Count: 2.9k words Warnings: Social anxiety, character with ADHD, crying, emotional hurt/comfort... A/N: I embarrassed myself a little bit and that day will haunt me forever. Enjoy!

Spencer slows as he comes up on your desk. He furrows his brows and looks around, noting your absence with a confused look on his face. Closing his book in his hand, he shifts it under his arm and turns to Emily opposite your empty seat.

Before he can even finish his inhale, she's already speaking. “Last time I saw her, she had to go print something out.”

“When was that?”

Emily looks away from the bright light of her screen in favor of checking her watch. “About fifteen minutes ago?” She shrugs, “I assume she got caught up with something.”

She spins around in her chair in a rather dramatic manner, turning to face JJ in the desk behind her. “You seen my desk buddy anywhere?”

“Printer.” She doesn't even look up.

“That's what I said.”

JJ hums a little. “She probably just got distracted.” She looks over her shoulder at Spencer for the first time, though not for long. “I'd check the printer.”

With a spark of genius, Emily's brows lift as she turns back to her screen. “If she's not there, she could be with Garcia.”

JJ just points her finger over at Emily and hums, still lounging back in her chair as her focus glares at whatever she's filling out at her computer.

“Thanks, guys.” Spencer sets his book down on your desk, turning on his heel to find the printing room where you have supposedly been hanging out for the past fifteen minutes.

He doesn't know what would keep you that long. You're not social enough to have gotten caught up talking, and your distractions are so easy as to keep you from returning to your desk (especially not when Emily is there to keep you company).

Plus, you hate the printing room. The printers are practically always running, and there's this weird clacking noise from one of the machines that unnerves you every time you have the misfortune of having to listen to it.

As he expects, you're not there. There's one guy standing in front of one of the printers, beating his hand on the side to get it to work. Other than that, however, you're nowhere to be found and Spencer is starting to worry.

Realistically, he knows that he shouldn't. You're in a building surrounded by FBI agents, and you're smart enough to know exactly how to tip someone off if you're in trouble. You're so smart, you'd realize there was danger long before it actually hit (because you pay too much attention to little details and sometimes forget about the more obvious things in front of you). He's lucky enough that any UnSub striking the FBI is likely too intelligent not to be meticulous.

But anyway, it doesn't matter because you're not in danger, and maybe you're just with Penelope or using the bathroom or (not in the break room, he already checked) or even–

Shoot.

“Hi.”

Penelope’s door was open, so he let himself in with a gentle knock on the door. Derek is there. He's leaning against one of her desks as she works. They're talking about something Spencer suspects to be too suggestive for his interest.

“Oh!” Penelope turns around in her seat with so much enthusiasm. She almost seems amazed as she looks upon him. “Spencer Reid, coming to visit me. Hello! How are you, my little knick knack?”

Derek chuckles, gesturing for him to join the two with a charming smile.

“I'm good,” he says. He asks about you.

Penelope’s brows join together as she shakes her head. “Oh, I don't know,” she answers matter-of-factly. “I have not seen her. Why? Is she okay?” Her worry creates a crease at her brows that deepens with every second that her question is unanswered.

“You lost your girl, pretty boy?” Derek gently nudges Spencer's shoulder.

“Not lost, just…” he shrugs, “misplaced.”

He hums. “She hasn't come by, no. Last time I saw her was early in the break room with you.”

Spencer scratches the back of his neck. Sorting through his mind about all the places you could be. If you left the building, you would've told someone, so you're definitely still here. You don't have any meetings either, so he's genuinely confused as to where you could possibly be hiding.

“I was hoping I'd find her here.”

Penelope raises a suggestive hand. “Well, I can look on the cameras, if you want.” She wheels around in her chair. She's already tapping away on her keyboard with a loud clickity-clack. “I'm sure we can find her somewhere in here.”

“When did you last see her?” Derek asks.

“I saw her at her desk twenty one minutes and thirty-seven seconds ago, but Emily said she went to the printing room about fifteen��minutes ago.”

Penelope mutters to herself as she types in her perimeters. “Okay. Printers, fifteen minutes. And…” She clicks her tongue. “There she is!”

Spencer feels a wave of relief at seeing you standing by one of the machines. You're popping your knuckles, staring dutifully at the printer like you're determined to grab them and go.

“Okay, waiting on papers. Let's fast forward a bit, and then…” Penelope’s as fast as the cameras as she watches you leave the room with your stack clutched to your chest. Your gaze is following your feet, which are taking you down the halls and in the wrong direction of your desk.

When you turn into a room, all of them are a little confused. Derek most of all. “My office?” He turns to Spencer with a furrowed brow. “What's she doin’ in my office?”

“Cameras don't show her leaving. She should still be in there right now.” Penelope adjusts her glasses on her nose, turning back around.

“That’s odd,” he mumbles. “Thank you, Garcia.”

Spencer's already locked into his task when he turns around without another word. Derek calls him, interrupting his alertness.

“Whatever you do,” he tilts his head like he's warning him, his eyes narrowed playfully as he smirks, “keep it PG in my office, okay?”

Spencer almost blushes at the notion. Penelope smacks him square in his chest, looking up like he's scolding Derek for his behavior. But he only raises his hands high in surrender. “Hey! Mama, I'm just jokin’,” he laughs, his face split into one of his charming smiles. “I'm playin’!”

Spencer purses his lips in that dorky way that you always say you love. He excuses himself in favor of finding you. The path to Derek's office is an easy and familiar path. He ends up opening the door not long after.

He doesn't see you.

Spencer's eyes sweep the office once more and find Derek's chair further away from his desk than it's meant to be—that is, if he pushed it in properly to begin with.

With a gentle sigh, he takes slow, quiet steps to round the large desk. He kneels when he gets to the other side, feeling the worry dissolve and take another shape all within the same second.

“Hey, sweetheart.” His voice is so soft, this quiet little whisper that doesn't stir you too much.

You have your arms wrapped around your knees, your face buried away within them. You don't move, and you don't seem to be crying, so at least that isn't an issue. Your voice is muffled by your arms.

“Hi.” You don't look up. “How’d you find me?” you mutter, still not moving from your position.

“Penelope.”

You sigh, finally lifting your head. “Penny.” He almost laughs at the way you say it, like you're accusing her of a crime.

“Can I join you?” he asks gently.

You nod without a word. Spencer moves to sit across from you. He's so long, it takes quite a bit of maneuvering to fit himself into the small space. He's slouched over like some real life origami. His legs have no choice but to reach all the way over into your space and box you in with him. You don't mind much.

He lets you both sit in silence for a while. You seem to really need it. He doesn't decide to speak until you finally look at his face, your eyes flitting across it like you're trying to find something.

“What's wrong?”

You shake your head, looking away again. It breaks his heart to watch the way you huddle into yourself. “It's stupid.”

“It's not stupid,” he protests kindly. He reaches a hand out to cradle the back of your leg. His hand is warm, it feels good even through the fabric of your slacks. “Not if it's making you feel like this.”

You don't respond. Spencer's mouth twitches to the side. He taps your leg lightly. “What happened?”

You sigh, taking a moment before you lift your head to see him again. There's a tiny crease in his brows. His eyes are narrowed just a bit. He's genuinely concerned, and it makes you feel bad because the reason you're upset is so…trivial.

“We deal with death every day, and most of the time, I come out of it okay,” you say under your breath, shaking your head at yourself, “but this is what gets me.”

“What's ‘this’?” he presses gently.

You lick your bottom lip and speak slowly. “I went to print some papers, and this lady walked up and waved at me, so I waved back at her and…”

He thinks he knows where this is going. “Yeah?”

There’s an element of self-depreciation when you respond, and your words from earlier echo sadly in his head at the thought that you might be hearing it, too—it’s stupid. “Well, it turns out, she’s not even waving at me. She’s waving to this other lady standing next to me.” You shake your head, looking down as if to remember something. “And she kinda, like…gave me this look.”

“Was it a mean one?” He hopes not. He loves you too much for someone to be giving you mean looks. He wants you to feel safe and happy, and you don’t.

You shake your head. “No, she looked…maybe a little confused or even, like…apologetic, but it was a look.” He watches you bury your head again, hiding away in your embarrassment. “I should not be hiding because of a look.”

Spencer sets a reassuring hand on your knee. “You don’t have to feel embarrassed about something like that.”

When you lift your head again, he can see tears you’d tried so hard to keep back shining in your eyes. His heartstrings tug behind his ribcage. He thinks you’re gonna kill him one day. “I know!” you sniffle, refusing to let any of your tears spill. “I know, but I do, and it’s ridiculous.”

“But…” he says, like he isn’t finished, “it’s also perfectly okay to be embarrassed about something like that.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes and looking to the side again. “Please.” A tear spills over, and you catch it quickly. You pull your bottom lip between your teeth and bite down hard. He’s worried you’ll draw blood. “I overreact or underreact to literally everything. When are my feelings ever reasonable?”

He would scoot closer if his body structure allowed it, but, alas, he is too long. “All the time. They never stop being reasonable,” he reassures. He sighs gently, wanting so badly to make sure you know how much he adores you. “Can I hold your hand?”

You look back at him, swallowing thickly as you slowly raise your hand for him to take. It means a lot, actually, that he wants to hold your hand. Too many germs. Your chest feels warm with your adoration of him. He gives you a smile, and you almost hide for a different reason.

Holding his eye contact is so hard sometimes. He has such pretty eyes, it’s a shame how hard it is to look at them when you get like this. You want to kiss him, to let him know.

Instead, you just squeeze his hand. “She probably already forgot it happened.” You chew on your bottom lip. “And I’ve been hiding under Derek’s desk for the past, like, ten minutes because I can’t forget about it.”

Spencer doesn’t want to tell you that it’s been twelve minutes and sixteen seconds. You hide your face once again more, dramatically this time. “This will haunt me forever.”

His lip quirks but he tries not to smile too much. “Hey.”

“I know. It’s childish.”

“That isn’t what I was going to say,” he smiles. He ducks his head in the hopes of catching your eyes, but he waits for you to look up first. “You know what I’m going to say?”

You do look at him. He’s so sweet, now you can’t look away. “What?”

He leans forward, feeling his back spine stretching as he does. His large hand sets against your cheek, and you lean into the warmth. He gives you a smile that you call charming, though he probably wouldn’t agree. “I love you.”

You can’t help it. The way he makes you feel is reminiscent of a teenager who just shared eye contact with her crush. He wipes your cheek gently with the pad of his thumb, clearing away any water left behind by the few tears that had escaped your clutches. “Stop,” you giggle, turning away.

He guides your face back. His grin is this huge, mushy thing on his face that squints his eyes until his lashes kiss. “Never,” he mutters affectionately. He loves to see you smile. “I love you. Especially when you care a little too much about an accidental wave.”

You catch him in his words, raising your brows accusingly. He’s helping your anxiety tremendously, and you probably won’t realize it until you’ve fully recovered. “So you agree that this is stupid?”

He laughs, shaking his head quickly. His voice, not as soft anymore, is filled to the brim with his happiness “That’s not what I said. I’m saying that I love you because you’re so amazing, and I want you to know it.” He traces the underside of your eyelashes, reluctantly slipping his hand off your cheek. “No matter how many times you wave at someone who isn’t actually waving at you.”

You’re still giggly. “Spencer.” You shift your legs, not without difficulty, to sit in a criss-cross position. Spencer mimics you (with even more difficulty than you). He has to bend down a little so he’ll fit.

“It’s the truth.”

“Well…” you try to dull your giggles to a simmering bubbly feeling in your chest, “I love you, too. Even when I think you’re crazy for loving me…” You think about that for a moment. “Especially when I think you’re crazy for loving me.”

Spencer holds your cheek again and pulls you in for a kiss. You savor this one, your noses brushing affectionately as you do. Spencer doesn’t kiss you at work.

“Will you come back to your desk with me?” he whispers, his lips brushing yours.

You nod gently. “Yeah.”

Spencer smiles, pecking your cheek. He lets go of you to untuck himself from under the desk. He has to stretch his body out before he offers his hand for you. You take it, hoisting yourself up to stand next to him. “Those are mine.” You gesture toward the papers on Derek’s desk as you brush off your pants.

He doesn’t wait for you, he just scoops them into his hands. “I’ve got them.”

“Thanks,” you grin. He sneaks one more kiss, this one to your temple.

You look up at him and hold your arms open, a quiet request. Spencer’s happy to answer your request, wrapping his arms around you in a hug that pulls you closer to him than you feel like you’ve ever been. He takes in a deep breath, closing his eyes and sighing longingly.

When you pull away, you walk with him. His hand hangs down by his side, and you glance at it as you brush your pinky with his. He smiles, but he doesn’t look over at you.

It’s been hardly ten seconds since you left the office, and your phone is ringing. You furrow your brow, fishing it from your pocket and glancing down at the screen. You sigh gently, silently appreciating her because she means so much.

You put her on speaker. “Penny?”

“Are you okay, sweet girl?” she asks immediately, her voice full of worry. You glance at Spencer, who still doesn’t turn to you. He’s smiling, though, so you know that he knows you’re watching him.

“Yes, I’m okay.”

“You’re sure?” she asks. “I can go to you. I’ll bring the squishy that you like!”

Your voice fades into a laugh. “I’m okay, Pen, really.”

“Did my desk help?”

The way Derek’s voice sounds when he speaks up makes you flush a little. You keep your voice level, still looking up to stare at Spencer. You trust him not to let you run into anything as he suppresses his smile with the thin line of his lips. “Yes, Morgan, it was very nice.” You raise a brow. “Am I going to hear Prentiss next?”

He laughs. “Just li’l ole me.”

“And me. I’m still here.” Penelope makes you laugh.

“Goodbye, both of you.”

“Bye, honey bun.” “Bye!” You hang up on them.

Spencer’s warmth seeps into your side. You resist the urge to lay your head on his shoulder because you’re supposed to be professional at work. Instead, you sigh and let your pinkies brush. “I love our friends.”

Spencer smiles. “Me, too.”

Criminal Minds taglist: @queermaxwooo @mdanon027 @lilianhallee @hpstuff244444 @thegr8estpuff @niktwazny303 @bubbles2300 @hiireadstuff @chloelmao67 @feyresqueen @hbwrelic @princess76179 @hc-geralt-23 Dr. Reid taglist: @swwanlake Tag yourself here...

[wileys-russo]

ooo, how about a bf alexia fic or blurb where they go out to celebrate a win and reader's just making small talk with a stranger while alexia's off somewhere else and then alexia just shows up at your side and quietly asserts that she's there and your hers. and after the stranger leaves, she gets all touchy and pouty because she just wants the readers attention

sixth sense II a.putellas

you smiled seeing alexia being pulled away to dance by jenni and laia very much so against her will, watching her head of pink hair dissapear into the crowd as you excused yourself from your conversation with alba and a few of the other girls to get another drink.

the small bar in sydney was packed out, spaniards, catalans and australians all dancing and cheering and celebrating spains world cup victory just two days prior.

it was the final night before the team flew back to spain for their welcome home ceremony and after a big group dinner with family and friends the majority of the team had moved on, eager to spend the final night they could celebrating in the foreign country.

you waited patiently for your turn, the poor barkeepers run off their feet by the very busy night, drumming your fingers against the wooden top of the bar, somewhat lost in your own world.

"so, family or friend?" you looked up hearing someone speak near you, meeting the amused eyes of a tall dark haired woman with a thick australian accent. "sorry?" you questioned with a surprised frown, unsure if you'd heard her correctly.

"you don't strike me as a footballer, you're not from around here because i'd have remembered your face and half of spain is in here right now. so, family or friend of the team?" the woman grinned, making a gesture toward the bartender who nodded and held up two fingers.

"are all australians so forward?" you laughed, a little taken aback by the womans reading of you. "only those who run and own bars." the woman grinned, the bartender dropping two drinks beside you as she grabbed one, holding it up and motioning you do the same.

"you own this?" you asked with wide eyes as she shrugged. "co-own if you ask the right person. like i said, i don't forget a face and i haven't seen most of them in here tonight before!" the woman grinned, again motioning you to pick up the drink beside you.

"to australia losing their home world cup and spain winning their first!" she cheered making you laugh again, clinking your glass against hers, not even entirely sure what you were about to drink but a little too tipsy already to think much of it.

alexia's friends would often tease she had a sixth sense and that it centered entirely around you, like a spidey sense but reserved for her girlfriend.

cold? she was offering you her jacket before you'd even shivered once. hungry? she'd already ordered extra food despite you saying you didn't want anything. stressed? your favourite movie was loaded and her arms were open and ready for you to take refuge in them.

which is why a strange sense settled over her on the dancefloor and alexia looked around, suddenly realising she couldn't see you anywhere as her brows furrowed. she ignored the teasing remarks from her team mates as she broke free from the pack of dancing bodies, her sister pointing her toward the bar where you'd wandered off to get a new drink.

alexia's jaw clenched as her eyes finally sought you out, laughing and speaking with a stranger who was a little too close to you for the spanish captains comfort.

you broke your attention away from your conversation feeling something settle around your neck, glancing down you saw your girlfriends world cup medal dangling by your chest.

her arm was next, toned and tanned it wrapped around your neck from behind and settled across your collar bones pulling your body into hers as she leaned across the bar, waving over the bartender and ordering a drink.

"hola mi vida." she murmured, kissing your cheek and trying to wave the bartender back over to pay, each subtle touch of hers screaming that you were taken.

her possesive nature was not lost on you or your new friend it seemed who smiled in amusement at the tall womans refusal to even acknowledge her, seeming as if she was unbothered though her body language said the complete opposite.

"not quite family and more than a friend then. enjoy the rest of your trip, on me!" the woman whose name you never even got smiled kindly, clinking her drink against alexia's who finally looked up and over toward her, too late now as the blonde melted away into the crowd.

"who was that?" your girlfriend asked with a frown, hold on you tightening as you managed to turn around and face her. "i never caught her name, she owns this though." you gestured around you as alexia hummed, sipping on her drink.

"you left me alone on the dance floor hermosa." the midfielder pouted making you smile. "you had plenty of people to dance with ale." you laughed, reaching up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

"none of them are you though." she smiled charmingly as you sipped your drink with a small shake of your head. "you know she was just a stranger, si? i didn't even get her name, i did not want to." you assured, gently squeezing her bicep still seeing a far off look in her eyes you knew too well.

"she was a little too close to you mi amor. just because you did not want her name did not mean she did not want yours." alexia warned, pout yet again forming on her lips as a slight veil of jealously clouded her features.

"i think you made it very well known i was taken bonita." you smiled, toying with the medal around your neck as alexia shrugged innocently.

"it was just heavy princesa, it was your turn to wear it." the pink haired woman dismissed with a flirty grin as you playfully shoved her shoulder and she guided you back to the group, hand securely on the small of your back.

cheers greeted the two of you as you returned, alexia's attention immediately commanded again by her team mates who once more tried to twirl her off for a dance. but the catalan woman brushed them all off with ease, taking her seat and pulling you to sit on her lap before you could take yours.

alba's teasing not lost on your ears you smiled knowingly as your girlfriend became increasingly touchy, clearly a response to your attention being granted to someone else that evening if platonic or not.

"alexia!" you laughed as you reached for your drink, only for her hand to shoot out and grab it for you, moving it toward your mouth. "just looking after you mi corazón." she pouted, amusement clear in both of your eyes as yours rolled but you gave in, allowing her to bring the glass to your lips as the teasing remarks around you escalated.

for the rest of the night there wasn't a single moment that at least a few inches of your skin weren't touching alexia's, a moody pout or a kiss behind your ear from her all it took for you to deny someones offer to join them on the dance floor.

"ale, baby i have to pee." you chuckled as you tried to get up but she tugged you back down, arms circling your waist. "okay, i come with you." the girl decided as you stood and pushed her back down.

"i will be five minutes top mi amor. stay here with everyone!" you laughed, though of course she didn't listen, linking her hand with yours and nodding for you to walk.

"clingy." you teased as the door swung shut on the two of you. "do you want to hold my hand while i use the toilet too?" you mocked, your girlfriend shaking her head and dropping your hand, shooing for you to hurry up.

but before you could even step into the cubicle suddenly she'd grabbed you again, pulling you into a feverish kiss sending your head spinning before she was pushing you back toward the toilet with a happy grin on her face.

"hurry princessa, my hand is getting heavy and i need you to hold it."

[generalsmemories]

The general's hair

✧ jing yuan x gn!reader

✧ based on the ask: "If requests are open, can I request Reader tugging Jing Yuan's hair to keep him from dozing or just wanted him to pay attention? You can choose the "severity" of the tug =DD" requested by anonymous

✧ content: established relationship, fluff, suggestive scenes (not nsfw, but you can tell it's hinting at it lmfao), humor, mentions of other characters

✧ a/n: dear lord we almost hit 500 jing yuan lovers. as he deserves, truly. thank you all for liking my two works so far!! here's another one while i still work on the lenghty angst fic of mine hehe. p.s please don't question my titles, i am very much terrible at them-

One of Jing Yuan's striking features is his voluminous hair that adorns his head like a lion's mane. Tied into a high half ponytail while the rest of his locks flow freely down to his shoulders. It's eye catching for sure, with a red ribbon securing the ponytail in place, it's hard to not turn one's head when he takes a walk outside of the divine seat to escape his duties. 

You're well aware of how tempting his hair is to touch everyone. It's the one thing you always reach for whenever you're bored after all.

The first thing you always do whenever he's fresh out of a shower is brush it out while running your fingers through it, or make sure every drop of soap reaches every strand when you take a bath together. A pastime activity Jing Yuan adores doing with you, almost sounding like he's purring in delight whenever you take some extra time to massage his scalp while you wash his hair.

It's also the first thing you would always grab onto to ground yourself when Jing Yuan wants to show his love for you more intimately and passionately. Your primary instinct to pull his strands while trying to get him so much closer to you, a breathless plea for him leaving your lips every now and then. Your husband takes great pleasure from this, merely chuckling while leaning down to press his lips to your ears. Gently telling you to breathe while pressing himself closer to your own sweaty body. During these moments his hair cascades down the side of his face, making him seem a lot more ethereal than usual. And while you can hardly breathe from the sensory overload you always somehow manage to slide your fingers from his lips to thread through his hair with a wry smile, whispering how beautiful he is.

His hair has unfortunately for him recently become the thing you have pulled whenever you notice him start to doze around whether that be in meetings or in general. It was initially something you had done out of desperation since no matter how many times you told him to listen, your husband would already nod off a few minutes after promising you that he wouldn't. Whenever you had complained he has joked that your voice was too soothing to listen to regarding reports that he could fall asleep to it.

So you tried to let one of the cloud knights or Qingzu deliver the reports to thwart that, but then he would downright not pay any attention at all. Which would make some meetings run longer than normal.

God forbid if Fu Xuan even tried to attempt to deliver a report, lest she wanted to get poked fun at or have more people fall asleep other than the general.

So while you were trying yet again to give a report for the general, you were suddenly struck with the memory of one of the many nights you had spent together. The nights where the general would look so much more awake whenever you pulled at his hair from desperation.

… Hey if it worked there, it should have some sort of effect now too, right?

So without looking too suspicious, you went behind the seat. When you passed Jing Yuan's laid back form, your available hand that was not holding the papers reached out to the same high ponytail you had just tied a few hours before and pulled with enough strength that made his head jerk away from his resting hand.

A surprised moan suddenly rang out throughout the Divine Foresight.

And you thanked the Aeons that the only ones present at that moment were the same guards stationed at the very entrance and Qingzu, who only gave you a deadpanned look.

But when Jing Yuan turned to look at you, more awake than he had ever been in any morning and eyes filled with confusion, you were sure you had hit the jackpot to make every meeting go faster. 

Good news for you and everyone else, not so good news for Jing Yuan though.

“The second matter of the day is the replacement of the newly appointed Cloud Knights who will be transferred to the Luofu from another fleet…”

“Ouch- Dear, pull my hair any harsher than that and I’m afraid you won’t have any strands to brush out in the near future,” Jing Yuan whines when your hand lets go of his high ponytail when he has successfully sobered up from his nth impromptu nap of the day.

You merely glance over at him with a raised eyebrow before walking away, “General, please be aware that you have a meeting with Lady Fu Xuan in a couple of minutes and these are just the briefings of what she will tell you personally,” you respond back, Jing Yuan letting out a huff as he leans back into his seat, rubbing the spot you had just pulled a few minutes ago with knitted eyebrows.

“... Let alone something to grab later tonight-”

“Jing Yuan.”

[bunnyreaper]

task force 141 boys, au where they all work as masseurs and you're their client.

(18+/nsfw, f!reader) 

simon is known for his sheer strength when it comes to massages. he has a lot of clients who are stressed-to-death business types because any knot, he can work it out, and he does it without saying a word. he's preferred by clients who don't want to make small talk during their treatment. 

his hands are massive, and seriously, any aches quiver in his presence because they know they're going to be gone soon under his firm touch. 

when you come to the appointment, it's a change of pace from his usual clientele. you ask questions and seem just a touch nervous, explaining that your usual masseuse was out on maternity leave and your boss had recommended simon. he made it his mission to make you comfortable, and from that first appointment with you, he's finds he doesn't mind conversation so much as long as it's yours.

at the end of the first session, you mention your preference for late night appointments, and while he wouldn't usually change his schedule, he does for you. he accommodates you because he kind of hates the idea of you with another masseur--he gets the sense you wouldn't be comfortable with some of his coworkers. 

he'll never ever make a move or do anything suggestive. he stiffens and hesitates when he gets too close to anywhere he shouldn't, and makes sure to always remain super professional (he's definitely overcompensating.) 

one session, you're turning over to your front when the towel slips and he sees the slightest glimpse of your breasts--but what strikes him is the way you apologise to him.

the both of you are so flustered, you don't even notice you've left your phone behind until you get out to your car. when you rush back in to grab it, you forget to even knock and walk in on simon with his dick in his hands. 

and god, even the way he works himself is hypnotic, and you can't help but want to lend a hand as you take ahold of his slick cock.

john attracts clients with his warm demeanor, and his occasional bit of sage life advice on top. a lot of his clients tend to be guys like him, so he's surprised when you end up at one of his appointments. 

he's instantly smitten, and finds that he pays extra attention to your body. not just how it looks, but the way you react to his touch. unlike any masseur you've had before, he doesn't need to ask about the pressure and you don't need to correct him, because he just knows. it's instinct, the right pressure, the right moves, the right scents and everything. you start to think john is criminally undervaluing his services, as you come out from every session feeling a million times better. you used to only go once a month or once a fortnight, but it's almost as if you're addicted to his touch. he refuses tips, so you start baking for him and batting your pretty eyelashes at him to get him to take the treats.

one session you have the achiest thighs ever, and you groan to him about how much you just need some relief. price laughs, and gets to work on oiling up the back of your thighs. he's so in tune with you, he notices the way you squirm under his touch as his fingers climb higher, notices the way your breathing escalates, and well, it's impossible to ignore when you straight up moan for him.

you're horrified but his soothing voice is there, reassuring you that it's normal and natural and nothing to worry about. you swear when you turn over he's smirking. at the end of the appointment, he offers you his card, looking you dead in the eye as he tells you he makes house calls too. 

and of course his intimate massages, just for you, are mind blowing. he takes his time even more than usual, working the tension out of your hands, your arms and your shoulders before moving to your breasts and down your stomach. then he works up from your feet, over your calves and thighs just as he did before. he has you entirely slicked and oily as he massages your clit so fucking carefully and slowly.

johnny's specialism is sports massage and works with a lot of young guys and gals, but he offers other types too. he comes highly recommend for someone looking for functional tips alongside their massage. he's chatty as all hell and likes to make small talk during sessions if the client is up for it. super welcoming and friendly, and everyone loves the accent. 

you find you love talking to johnny, because it just comes so easily. you're sure he does this with everyone but he's always asking questions, getting to know you. it's almost like you become friends, as he says you're his favourite regular. johnny jokes one time that he'd be heartbroken if you ever saw someone else, but you could never. now there's no one you'd trust for massages other than him. 

when you need physio, it's him you go to as well, even if he chuckles a little when you explain you injured yourself drunk, dancing on a table. 

it's a physio session where it all changes, you've been doing mobile stretches under johnny's direction, but he feels you need a little bit of extra stretching. 

you lay down on the mat as johnny scoots closer and takes ahold of your ankle. he rests his foot on his shoulder as he starts to push, and you're looking up at him with so much trust in your eyes. he keeps pushing you, and you give less and less resistance, until suddenly he's pressed against you--his hardness is pressed against you.

his eyes go wide as he moves away, and he's stuttering out apologies in an instant, worried about how unprofessional and inappropriate it is, assuring you that it's never happened before (he doesn't have a big fat crush on just any of his clients.)

it's then you climb atop of him, running your hands over his shoulders as you tell him just how flattered you are. johnny's got you bent over before you can say another word, stretching you out in another way.

kyle is a real hit with older women, they love their young boy toy masseur with the bright, gorgeous smile and bulging arms. a lot of them go to the same country club, and they all talk about gaz in this one circle of older ladies. his diary is always booked full, but he'd managed to squeeze you in late one night during the week, and you were so thankful.

he's surprised when you come through the doors, similar in age and not at all like his usual clients, especially the more outrageous or entitled ones. 

his voice is so soft and smooth as he talks you through the consultation beforehand, to the point where you already feel soothed and relaxed before he's even put his hands on you. he struggles with his attraction from the first meeting. 

his touch is always on the lighter side, which you find absolutely perfect, and the skin on his hands is so smooth that being rubbed by him is a dream. he likes to use heated oils and aromatherapy too, and sometimes you swear you fall asleep on his table. waking up after one of his massages, to his smiling, cheerful face and kind eyes makes you feel more rejuvenated than anything. 

one time when you're coming in for a session, you arrive earlier than usual and catch the tail end of his previous appointment. its one of his regulars, a particularly high-maintenance and touchy-feely woman, who despite being married is trying to come on kyle hardcore. you had planned on waiting outside respectfully, but marched in once you saw the discomfort on his face. 

in your session, you can tell he's still a little uncomfortable from the session, so you try talking to him throughout to take his mind off of things. 

you probably shouldn't have made a comment, or asked if he gets hit on a lot, but be laughs it off and says it happens a lot. his hand freezes on your calf as he admits he wouldn't mind as long as it were you--and you find yourself climbing off the bed and sinking to your knees to give him some relaxation for once.