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little-jana · 3 days ago

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"The Wrong Idea"

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x f!reader

Genre: fluff

Words: 1.2k

Warnings: Pregnancy misunderstanding (humorous), workplace teasing

Summary: The team thinks you're pregnant... why not have a little fun with them...

a/n: I think it's kinda obvious: I'm officially in my dad!hotch era and have sooo many ideas with this theme! Do you love it as much as I do? Do you want mooooore? 🪻

Being a member of the BAU often meant everyone on the team knew too much about each other. Spending countless hours together on cases and long flights left little room for privacy. Still, you hadn’t anticipated the whirlwind of chaos that erupted the moment they thought you were pregnant.

It started innocently enough, but as the speculation snowballed, it took on a life of its own—and the last person you expected to weigh in was Aaron Hotchner.

It began one morning at work, after a particularly rough case had kept alle of you up most of the night. You were leaning against the counter in the kitchenette, pouring yourself a cup of herbal tea instead of your usual coffee.

JJ appeared beside you, eyebrows raised. “Tea? Since when do you drink tea?”

You shrugged. “Just felt like it today.”

She tilted her head, studying you. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you said, a little confused by her sudden concern.

“Hmm,” she said, a soft smile tugging at her lips. “Well, let me know if you need anything.”

You didn’t think much of it until later that afternoon, when Garcia cornered you at your desk.

“You know, you’ve been looking absolutely radiant lately,” she said, her tone suspiciously sweet.

You glanced up at her. “Uh… thanks?”

“I’m serious,” she said, her eyes sparkling with something that looked a lot like mischief. “There’s just this… glow about you.”

“I think you’re imagining things,” you said, trying not to laugh.

“Oh, I don’t think so,” she said, winking at you before flouncing off.

---

By the end of the day, the comments were piling up.

Emily handed you her snack halfway through the afternoon. “Here, you should eat this. You need to keep your strength up.”

“Why?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

She just smiled knowingly and walked away.

Even Rossi got in on the act, offering you unsolicited advice about “balancing work and family life” while Derek kept smirking at you like he knew something you didn’t.

It wasn’t until you overheard JJ and Emily whispering in the break room that you finally pieced it together.

“Do you think she’s told Hotch yet?” JJ asked.

Emily shook her head. “No way. But he has to know, right? I mean, they’ve been spending a lot of time together.”

You froze, you teacup halfway to your lips.

They thought you were pregnant.

At first, you were too stunned to say anything. But the more you thought about it, the funnier it became.

You weren’t pregnant, obviously. But the team had convinced themselves otherwise, and their attempts at subtlety were laughable at best.

You decided not to deny it outright. If they wanted to jump to conclusions, who were you to stop them? Besides, watching them tiptoe around the subject was too entertaining to pass up.

Of course, your plan backfired almost immediately...

The teasing began the next morning, when Derek caught you yawning during the morning briefing.

“Rough night?” he asked, a sly grin spreading across his face.

You shot him a look. “Not any rougher than yours, Morgan.”

“Sure, sure,” he said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “I’m just saying, you should take it easy. You know, for the... baby.”

The room went silent.

You felt your face heat up as everyone turned to look at you, their expressions ranging from curious to downright amused.

“The what?” Hotch asked, his tone sharp.

Derek froze, clearly realizing he’d overstepped. “Uh… no baby. I was just joking.”

Hotch’s gaze flickered to you, his dark eyes narrowing slightly. “Is there something I should know?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but Garcia beat you to it.

“Oh, no, sir,” she said, grinning nervously. “Everything’s fine. Totally fine.”

Hotch looked unconvinced, but he didn’t press the issue. "We'll talk later about it."

The rest of the day was a blur of teasing comments and stolen glances. By lunchtime, you were ready to tear your hair out.

Garcia kept hovering around your desk, offering me snacks and bottles of water. JJ asked if you needed help with your workload. And Emily… well, Emily just smirked at you every time you passed her in the hallway.

You did y best to ignore them, but it wasn’t easy. Especially when Hotch kept looking at you like he was trying to solve a particularly difficult puzzle.

It all came to a head that evening, after we wrapped up a meeting in Hotch’s office.

You were gathering your things when he closed the door behind you, leaning against it with his arms crossed.

“Is there something you want to tell me?” he asked, his voice low.

You looked up at him, your heart skipping a beat. “What do you mean?”

“The team seems to think you’re… expecting,” he said, his brow furrowing slightly.

You couldn’t help but laugh. “They’ve got some pretty wild imaginations, don’t they?”

He didn’t smile. “So, it’s not true?”

“Of course not,” you said, shaking your head. “Why would you even think that?”

“Because they won’t stop talking about it,” he said, his tone tinged with exasperation. “And you haven’t denied it.”

You hesitated, suddenly feeling a little guilty. “I didn’t mean for it to get out of hand. I just… didn’t correct them.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Why not?”

“Because it was funny,” you admitted, shrugging.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “You’re impossible.”

You smiled, stepping closer to him. “But you love me anyway.”

He stared at you for a moment, his expression softening. “I do,” he said quietly.

Your breath caught in your throat.

“And for the record,” he added, his voice even lower, “I wouldn’t mind if it were true.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “You wouldn’t?”

He shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Not at all.”

You felt your cheeks heat up, a rush of emotions swelling in your chest. “Well,” you said softly, “maybe someday.”

“Someday,” he agreed, pulling you into his arms.

---

The next morning, when Derek made another joke about baby names, you couldn’t help but laugh.

“You’re all ridiculous,” you said, shaking your head.

“Ridiculously accurate,” Emily said, smirking.

You glanced at Hotch, who was standing nearby with his arms crossed. He caught your eye and gave you a small, knowing smile.

“Not this time,” you said, grinning. “But you’ll be the first to know when it is.”

The team stared at you, their mouths falling open.

And for the first time all week, you felt like you had the upper hand.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds one shot #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x you #aaron hotchner imagines #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotch #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you

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biteyoubiteme · 2 days ago

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You dont get how excited i was seeing that you posted this fic ive read it like three times and i realized i never reblogged it im sorry ;--;; but i LOVE this fic okay i love it sm you have no idea The engine roars in your ears as you bolt across the finish line, your car skidding and screeching to a halt. The cheers and claps of the crowd rise to an almost deafening crescendo, and you grip the steering wheel tight with furrowed brows, being able to feel how sweaty your forehead had become, adrenaline still surging through your veins as you pant heavily. A quick glance at the leaderboard tells you the result: Second. Fucking. Place. Like just from the start im so hooked-

“Hardwork, my ass. His daddy got him connections and sponsorships, that’s why. He thinks he can just waltz in with that stupid smile and—oh my god, he’s winking at me. I’m going to fucking kill him.” Sure enough, Beomgyu catches your eye roll and winks your way before saying something to the reporters that makes them hysterically laugh. When i tell you i giggle and love love love love love rivals to lovers so much like the cockieness that can only be reached with rivals just heals something in me and this did just that i love it uuuuuggghhh

Taehyun shrugs, “He grows on you. I guess.” “Yeah, like a nasty mould.” im giggling and kicking my feet over this i love them ><

There is one thing you’ve never told anyone about. Not your teammates, not taehyun, and that is when you, of all people, made out with Choi Beomgyu one awfully unlucky night. Jumping around my room rn you cant see it but believe it-

What you do remember though was looking at him, really looking at him, in the shifting, almost epileptic lights of the club. How big and brown his eyes were, how long and thick his eyelashes were and how they fluttered like a doll every time he blinked. How plump and pouty his lips were, especially now that he was drunk, he just kept on pouting his lips and his cheeks were flushed all rosy from all the alcohol he’d had. His long wolfcut was messy by now, bangs falling into his eyes. I LOVE HOW YOU WRITE ABOUT HOW PRETTY BEOMGYU IS

The final lap is chaos, the audience on their feet now. You’re so incredibly angry, but you can’t let that get to you and hinder your focus, you clench your teeth, gripping your steering wheel so tight your knuckles are white, you’re even more determined to win than before. Okay but im on the edge of my seat over this race like its irl and i dont know whats going to happen like i love it sm

"You fucking cheated!" You shout, jabbing a finger at his chest. He blinks innocently, tilting his head in a puppy like way. "Me? Cheat? That’s a very serious accusation to make. I’d never." There’s a slight smugness to him, almost mocking, he’s not even pissed he didn’t win like you’d wanted him to be, just calm and collected and being a bitch. It makes you even more livid with him. THE RIVALS ARE BEING RIVALS AND I LOVE IT ITS MAKING MY BITE MY FIST AND KICK MY FEET BEHIND ME LIKE IM SO SAT AND OBSESSED WITH THEM-

Something inside you just snaps. It infuriates you how you’re the one who won and yet, you feel small. Why is he the one sneering at you? That should be you! You want to have the upper hand over him, some semblance of control— just like that night again when he was putty in your hands. And so, before you can even register what you yourself are about to do, you grab him by his jacket, smashing your lips against his. He melts almost instantly, kissing you back so fervently and eagerly, as if he’d been waiting this whole time for this to happen. And you can’t lie, it felt almost euphoric to have his soft lips back on yours again. Almost like an addict getting their fix after a long withdrawal. EEEEEEEEEEEEEKKKKKK ><

but there’s a look of almost, somewhat hurt on his face. APOLOGIZE TO HIM AND ME FOR THIS ENDING EVIL!!! (i love this fic sm)

☆ Drive you mad !

genre: racer au, smut, e2l, rivals , crack

Pairings: sub ! race car driver ! beomgyu x dom ! gn race car driver reader (afab when comes to smut)

Warnings: kinda public sex, bratty beomgyu, sub beomgyu, grinding/palming, edging, creampie, riding, hand job, degrading, sex in a car, clubbing, alcohol, hair pulling, tit sucking, use of names ‘good boy’, ‘whore’

Word count: 4.7k

The engine roars in your ears as you bolt across the finish line, your car skidding and screeching to a halt. The cheers and claps of the crowd rise to an almost deafening crescendo, and you grip the steering wheel tight with furrowed brows, being able to feel how sweaty your forehead had become, adrenaline still surging through your veins as you pant heavily. A quick glance at the leaderboard tells you the result:

Second. Fucking. Place.

You grit your teeth, rather aggressively slamming the door shut, and getting out of the car. Yanking off your helmet, you storm over to where Kang Taehyun, your ever-calm, teammate, was leaning casually against the pit wall, sipping on his water bottle from the last round he had just raced himself. You on the other hand, are seconds away from combusting.

“Fuck him.” You seethe and grumble, arms crossed as both of your gazes switch to focus on Choi Beomgyu in the centre, soaking up the spotlight a few metres away, gesturing animatedly for the cameras with sparkling eyes, a stupid smirk and very satisifed look on his face as he tucked his helmet under one arm. He’s surrounded and swarmed by reporters with god knows how many microphones shoved in his face who hang onto his every single word like he was some goddamn deity.

He basks in it, always loved the attention. You wouldn’t be surprised if he tried to win every race solely for the purpose of being met with cameras and praises at the end. It’s like he got off on that shit. Attention seeker.

“What a fucking nepo baby.” You scoff and taehyun laughs, always amused for your hate towards Choi Beomgyu. But it was true, he was only here because his father was a famous legendary racer back in the day, his racing career practically gift wrapped by him at a young age. Choi Beomgyu had everything handed to him on a silver platter whilst you had to claw your way through to get where you are now. But, it seems to be that you’re the only one who has a problem with him. Everyone else adores him, the 'golden boy'.

“Oh—hehe. Stop it. Thank you! Yeah, honestly it’s all about hard work.” You hear him gush and chuckle in faux shyness and humbleness, waving his hand dismissively, eyes shaped into little crescent moons and running a hand through his long soft brown hair. “But I don’t think I’m that good personally heh.”

You can’t help how hard your eyes roll at that, muttering more insults under your breath only taehyun can hear who's certainly more than entertained. “Hardwork, my ass. His daddy got him connections and sponsorships, that’s why. He thinks he can just waltz in with that stupid smile and—oh my god, he’s winking at me. I’m going to fucking kill him.”

Sure enough, Beomgyu catches your eye roll and winks your way before saying something to the reporters that makes them hysterically laugh. The audacity. You have half the mind of walking over there and strangling him right in front of the cameras. That surely wouldn’t end your career right? Or worse yet, put you in prison.

As the crowd around him finally disperses and fizzles out, Beomgyu confidently saunters over to you and taehyun, helmet still tucked under his arm and still grinning annoyingly.

“Oh no.” Taehyun chuckles, throwing a knowing look your way and nodding to the direction of beomgyu, “Incoming.”

“Fuck my life.” You mutter, taking a big breath in, bracing yourself for the worst.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t my favourite fan.” Beomgyu’s grin widens as he reaches you, snickering. He ignores your scoff in return, turning to taehyun instead with a smile and clapping his back. “Hey, Tae. Drinks after this? A bunch of us are going.”

“Yeah, I’m in. Congrats on first place today by the way.” Taehyun replies giving him a bro hug. To this day, you still can’t understand how taehyun can stand him. But Beomgyu has a lot of friends, and like you said, you really are the only one who dislikes him.

“How can you even hang out with him?” You make the most disgusted face you can muster towards Beomgyu to show the pure utter hatred you feel to him.

Beomgyu practically puffs out his chest, already expecting to be backed up and stood up against by taehyun.

Taehyun shrugs, “He grows on you. I guess.”

“Yeah, like a nasty mould.”

Beomgyu deflates, taking great offence, mouth hanging open and frowning, pouting at the both of you now laughing and high-fiving each other.

Beomgyu’s intense gaze then returns back to you. Taehyun, addressing the situation, and knowing how both your bantering can escalate, sees it’s best to leave, walking away to leave you alone with the cockroach. “Right, so as entertaining as this has been, I’m going to go now…preferably anywhere else...”

“What about you, y/n? No congratulations?” Beomgyu mocks and sighs boastfully once Taehyun has left. His voice dripping with that sickeningly playful lilt that always makes your blood boil. “No heartfelt speech on how I inspire you to be better? But hey, second place isn’t so bad.”

You narrow your eyes, standing up straight. “You won by, like,” you scoff, “a millisecond at best. Don’t get all cocky. It was just pure luck.”

He laughs, raising an eyebrow at you. “Oh, come on, I didn’t think you were such a sore loser. It’s called strategy.”

“Strategy?” you repeat incredulously, “The only strategy you have is relying on your last name to get you ahead.”

“God, you’re still on that? I feel like you’re just using that as an excuse to use still. Just admit I’m as good as you. Better, even. I’ve won one more race than you now~”

The two of you kept a tally of how many races you both have won, you’ve had the same exact score as him for ages now, obviously, not anymore. But you’ll win next time, just he waits.

He takes a step closer to you, waiting and expecting you to make a snarky comeback at him like you always do as you angrily stare him down and he does the same.

For a second, just one second, your eyes flicker down to his lips and suddenly, you’re brought back to an incident that occurred a few months ago. A memory you’ve tried—and failed—to forget.

There is one thing you’ve never told anyone about. Not your teammates, not taehyun, and that is when you, of all people, made out with Choi Beomgyu one awfully unlucky night.

⸝⸝

THE SAID AWFULLY UNLUCKY NIGHT YOU AND CHOI BEOMGYU MADE OUT:

The nightclub was packed with racers, sponsors, and fans celebrating the after party of a big end of season race, air heavy with the scent of alcohol and sweat. You nursed your drink, leaning against the bar.

Of course, Beomgyu was at the centre of the dance floor, surrounded by a group of admirers, his laughter ringing out over the music. He was never hard to spot, the centre of attention always.

"Ugh," you muttered under your breath, taking another sip of your drink.

“And you’re still staring?” Taehyun had teased, sitting beside you.

"I’m not staring.” You snapped, rolling your eyes. "I’m wondering how he manages to be so insufferable and stupid all the time."

“Sure,” Taehyun stifles a laugh, raising his glass to you. “Just don’t kill each other before the next race.”

You down the last of your drink, slamming it on the bar counter and ordering another, “Can’t promise that.”

The rest of the night is a blur to you. Too many drinks, too many spinning lights, and far too much proximity to Beomgyu.

You’re not one to get shitfaced drunk. You prefer the comfortable state of slight tipsiness and anything other than that is not fun for you, because why would someone want to be so drunk off their ass to the point of throwing up and not being aware of their surroundings? Usually, you’d chastise people like that, wondering how they can’t even manage how much they drink. But on that night, you’d had one too many to count, you were drunk, too drunk. Not the comfortable tipsiness that you’re used to.

You know that at one point, either you or Beomgyu had come up to the other and the normal bickering had ensued. You know he was just as drunk as you so whatever you both were arguing about probably made no sense at all.

What you do remember though was looking at him, really looking at him, in the shifting, almost epileptic lights of the club.

How big and brown his eyes were, how long and thick his eyelashes were and how they fluttered like a doll every time he blinked. How plump and pouty his lips were, especially now that he was drunk, he just kept on pouting his lips and his cheeks were flushed all rosy from all the alcohol he’d had. His long wolfcut was messy by now, bangs falling into his eyes.

He looked different that night, too. Not the usual racing suit and helmet, but a stylish black suit with his shirt unbuttoned just enough to reveal a silver necklace glinting against his skin.

All in all, beomgyu was a pretty boy. You get why he had a lot of fans.

He was still going on about something to you, slurring his words, probably insulting you, and the only logical solution to shut him up in your inebriated state at that moment, was to kiss his pouty lips. Luckily, you both were at the very corner of the nightclub shrouded in darkness, everyone else too busy dancing and whatnot to see you both.

You remember him gasping when you grabbed the collar of his black shirt, yanking him down and pressing your lips aggressively against his, but he kissed you back almost instantly, without a second thought.

You weren’t very gentle with him, pushing him forcefully against the wall even further and tugging at his necklace. The way you were making out with him was just pouring out all your anger you’ve felt towards him for years. But, he just let you. He let you do anything to him and you were surprised, so different to the cocky and confident beomgyu you knew. And that sheer control he let you have over him for once felt so good, you didn’t want to stop.

That, and the fact Choi Beomgyu was also just really good at kissing, he made it so difficult to pull away at all, lips so soft and plump and addictive, making you want more and more and more.

But, you never spoke an utterance of it afterwards, he never brought it up, neither did you. And honestly, it felt so surreal, making out with the Choi Beomgyu, the one who you no doubtedly hate his guts and him kissing you back so pliantly? You’d believe it more if it was all just a hallucination. You were so drunk you wouldn’t be surprised if you made it all up, dreamt it even. Maybe it was someone else you made out with and you were so drunk you can’t remember. It’d make more sense than Choi Beomgyu.

Although, you do find yourself thinking about the makeout session often times than not, his lips on yours just felt so good. Too good. It was like, the best makeout you’ve had in your life and you curse it for being him. Why he had to be the one whose lips you still thought about? you don’t know. You’re certain he had forgotten and you wish you could have just like he seemed to.

But anyway, fuck that and fuck him.

⸝⸝

"What? Cat got your tongue?" Beomgyu is still sneering at you, awaiting your comeback but you can’t think well at the moment.

Your face heats, and you shove past him. “Go to hell, Choi.”

And his laughter follows behind you as you walk away. Oh, how he infuriates you.

You have one goal: beat Choi Beomgyu. Today is the day you finally get to race against him again. He’d held that last victory over your head, taunting you endlessly, with that invigorating, stupid smirk of his and you’d had more than enough. Today was your chance to shut him up and kick his ass. You’ll put him in his place and win. You’d been waiting for this.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to another thrilling showdown! All eyes are on the two front runners y/n and Choi Beomgyu. These rivals have been neck and neck all season. Beomgyu won the last race but will he win again? Will today decide who’s truly on top?” The commentator’s voices boom over the loudspeakers.

The flagman waves the green flag, you slam on the gas pedal and you’re off, surging forward.

It wasn’t an easy race, beomgyu seemed motivated to win too. He was always either just ahead or just behind, not far enough for it be satisfactory, but nail bitingly tense, as anything could happen any moment. And right now, ahead, just barely, was him, blocking every attempt you made to overtake him.

“Y/n’s looking for an opening,” the commentators shout. “But Beomgyu’s defensive driving is flawless so far. Look at that precision!”

Loud noises of the engines are all you can hear, filling your ears as you manoeuvre around sharp turns, tires screeching against the asphalt. The laps all blur together but you’re nearing the end now.

You managed to get alongside him on the straight, your cars almost touching, crowd going wild as you both enter the next corner side by side, dangerously close.

“Neither driving is moving an inch!”

Suddenly, beomgyu’s car swerves towards yours, bumping and hitting at yours with such force, a dirty, blatant attempt at running you off the track and then he overtakes you. You gasp, fighting to stabilise your car, narrowly avoiding a spin. That was a new low, even for Choi Beomgyu. He’d never cheated like that before and you’re absolutely enraged.

The last stretch looms ahead and he’s just razor thin ahead of you, in the last second, you see your opening. Beomgyu had oversteered slightly on the turn, just enough for you to slip past him, you speed ahead.

“AND Y/N TAKES THE WIN IN A SPECTACULAR FINISH! THEY’VE DONE IT! WHAT A RACE!”

You crossed the line first. By a hair.

Everyone erupts, but your satisfaction is short-lived. Beomgyu’s cheating had completely soured your victory. The fucking nerve of him.

You barely register the reporters swarming you, bombarding your face with microphones. “Y/n! how does it feel to take first place?!”

“An incredible performance today, what was going through your mind?!”

The post race interview is a haze of forced smiles and generic answers. You’re barely listening as the reporters barrage you with questions. You’re still so pissed off at Beomgyu.

When it’s finally over, you make your way to the garage and that’s where you spot him leaning casually against his car, arms crossed in a nonchalant way. You clench your fists, blood boiling as you storm over to him. He’d crossed the line, well, not literally this time, but definitely fucking figuratively.

"You fucking cheated!" You shout, jabbing a finger at his chest.

He blinks innocently, tilting his head in a puppy like way. "Me? Cheat? That’s a very serious accusation to make. I’d never." There’s a slight smugness to him, almost mocking, he’s not even pissed he didn’t win like you’d wanted him to be, just calm and collected and being a bitch. It makes you even more livid with him.

“You intentionally tried to cause a collision with me. You should have been penalised. I don’t know how you weren’t!”

“Yeah, and you still won. So why are you even mad?” He crosses his arms and shrugs, ridiculing you. “If you can’t handle that maybe you should switch to something lighter like go karting instead.”

"Can’t handle?!" You splutter, looking at him in pure disbelief, your voice rising. "You arrogant, nepotistic, spoilt brat!-” Each insult punctuated with a sharp poke to his chest and, yet he still finds it all funny, bursting out into laughter at you.

And so, before you can even register what you yourself are about to do, you grab him by his jacket, smashing your lips against his. He melts almost instantly, kissing you back so fervently and eagerly, as if he’d been waiting this whole time for this to happen. And you can’t lie, it felt almost euphoric to have his soft lips back on yours again. Almost like an addict getting their fix after a long withdrawal.

The kissing becomes heated fast, sounds of your mouths smacking filling the echoing garage as he lets you take over his mouth completely, letting you bite and pull at his bottom lip, emitting soft little gasps at this.

Even for the second time, it was disorienting seeing Beomgyu like this, nothing like the beomgyu you knew on the track or in the spotlight, and now with no alcohol in your system, neither of you could even blame whatever was going on right now on that. It’s all too intoxicating. It takes everything in you to pull back for air.

You push him against his car with more force than necessary, and Beomgyu stumbles slightly before sitting down on the top of the hood. His eyes are blown wide, flustered as you stand between his splayed legs, cupping his cheek and kissing him again, him responding immediately. This is how you like him. Your kisses trail down his jaw and the column of his neck, when you suck on his adam’s apple, he lets out a sharp intake and gasp, tilting his head back to give you more access, he already seems worked up from just a few kisses. Was his neck really that sensitive?

When your hand slides down to palm him through his trousers, his breath hitches and his jaw goes slack. “Oh…b-but we’re in public…” his cheeks flush a deep red and he protests weakly, plump lips all swollen and glossy and wet from the intense making out.

You raise a brow. “So you want me to stop?” You keep grinding your palm against his very hard length now, sucking on his neck and he shudders and whines cutely, very clearly enjoying it.

“W-wait no….” So you continue, he’s panting as you palm him, rutting into your hand himself. You pull back just enough to look at him, so dumb and lost in pleasure, lips parted with soft breathy moans and gasps as he chases the small friction you give him, his brows knitting together.

You roll your eyes at the sight of him, “Trying to run me off the track? You’re pathetic, beomgyu.”

“Pathetic?” He scoffs, still having the nerve to act like a brat when it’s all crumbling. “h-hah, if anyone’s pathetic it’s you—s-shit y/n—please. I need more, please.” Completely contradicting himself, because if there was only one word to describe him exactly right now, it would be pathetic.

“Admit it. Say you’re nothing but a dirty cheater first.”

“You wish.”

“Okay. I’ll leave you like this. All hard and horny.”

He hesitates, scowling, debating whether or not to challenge you, but when you stop all contact of palming and kissing his neck, starting to step away, he caves in.

“Wait!” He blurts, grasping at your wrist, eyes wide and pleading. “I’m…fine. Fine! I’m nothing but a dirty a cheater...” His face burns, embarrassed, humiliated, his pride hurt. The admission sends a thrill through you, he’s always been so full of himself, but now he’s just a needy pathetic mess for you. You’re having so much fun.

You grin. “Aw. What a good boy.” You coo sarcastically. The words have an instant effect on him though, whole body tensing and cheeks blooming into an even more impossibly vivid red and he whines, hands clutching at your hips to bring you back as he still sits pliantly on the hood of his car.

You unzip his pants, flushed pretty cock already leaking, slapping at his tummy and you brush your thumb over his sensitive tip, spreading the bead of pre-cum that gathered there slowly, watching his reaction and he looks down at the action himself, drawing out a helpless shudder and whimper from him. He groans, eyes half lidded when you wrap your hand around his cock, moving up and down with a deliberate slowness that makes his breath hitch every few seconds and whine.

“God, you’re so easy, beomgyu. Are you this much of a whore all the time?” You murmur and tease, dragging your teeth over his cute earlobe, ears all red, feeling him shiver.

“Shut”, he whimpers cutely, “up. I-i could…ah…fuck you stupid right now.” He retaliates or attempts to, but his hands grip the edge of the hood like he’s barely holding himself upright.

You laugh. “Oh, really? Because you look pretty wrecked already.” He was so fucked out right now, you wonder if he’d even be able to take it when you actually fuck him.

He’s still trying to keep up the pretense of resistance. “I’m not wrecked. You’re—” You pump his cock at a ruthless pace, jerking him off fast, occasionally toying with the slit on the head of cock and his body goes limp under you touch, moaning out prettily and loudly, eyes squeezing shut and panting, chest heaving. He clings to you now, head buried in your neck, practically drooling, body jerking with every stroke. He still attempts to bite back at you but they come out as dumb babbles and mumbles of nonsense, mewling and gasping, completely at your mercy.

Beomgyu whines and moans deliriously. “F-fuck! Oh—need to cum. C-can’t.” He removes his head from your neck to look up at you with glossy doe eyes, so wrecked and hanging on by a thread. You move your hand up and down his dick unrelentingly and before he’s just about to cum, you pull your hand off him.

The pained, frustrated cry that escapes him is deliciously pathetic. His hips jerk into the air desperately to chase the sensation, but it’s long gone now. He looks at you in shock, eyes wide in utter betrayal and devastation, and now wet with tears of frustration. But then he frowns and scowls, annoyed he didn’t get to cum. “What the fuck was that for?” He pouts.

“I could think of a lot honestly. But, don’t you want to cum inside me?”

His jaw hangs open. “Please. Yes.” Beomgyu breathes out, nodding fervently and looking at you with puppy eyes, pupils dilating and dazed at the thought alone.

Sliding off the hood, beomgyu takes your hand like an obedient puppy, and you open the car door. He sits in his driver’s seat, his flushed face tilted up to watch you as you climb onto his lap. You rid yourself of your own clothes, watching as his gaze drops immediately to your bare tits, breath catching and lips parting as he stares, seemingly captivated. He’s so stupid.

You grab his dick and use the head to rub your clit, making him let out little stuttered gasps, sliding him over your entrance and folds a few times before you sink slowly down completely. The feeling of your warm tight pussy making him go cross eyed as he groans, sucking in air and throwing his head back, grasping at your waist, furrowing his brows and mouth in an ‘o’ shape, you beginning to ride him.

It’s so hot and cramped and sweaty in the car now as you bounce on his dick continuously, being able to hear the obscene slapping and sticky noises so loudly. Beomgyu looks in a state of absolute, pure bliss, moaning like a bitch, mind all fogged up and mushy at the feeling of your pussy, his messy damp bangs falling into his eyes so all you can see is his very glistening round lips, still in that sustained ‘o’ shape, just so dumbed and fucked out.

He’s a gorgeous wreck, thick doll-like lashes fluttering. If only everyone else could see Choi Beomgyu like this right now. It feels so empowering and satisfying after all these years of him being so infuriating. You love how, despite his attempts at being bratty, he’s so docile and such a simple whore.

You tangle your hands in his hair and tug and pull every so often, which he clearly very likes if the high and strained moans are anything to show for this. His hands squeeze at your tits when it feels too good for him. His lips latch onto one of your nipples, tongue flicking over it and sucking and kissing as he looks up at you with his big brown eyes. When you deliberately clamp your pussy tightly around him, he moans out your name in response, muffled from him still sucking your tits needily, body slightly jerking.

“You remember, don’t you?—at the club?” You ask, although it was probably obvious by now.

Beomgyu pauses for a moment, popping his wet droolly mouth off your boobs, eyes darting away for a moment before returning to look at you, nodding vigorously, “of course I remember…l-liked it.” You cup his cheek again, kissing beomgyu hard, hands still tangled in his hair, tugging, fucking him mercilessly as he moans softly against your lips. “Oh god, m’ sso close. Can I cum?”

You nod, kissing him some more, “Cum for me, beomie.”

“Holyy s-shitt—” Beomgyu’s eyes roll to the back of his head, squeezing one of your tits as if for support, his back arches, his tongue lolling out dumbly, whole body trembling and shaking. You bring one of your hands to your clit, rubbing and riding yourself on him harder. With a choked off scream, he spills so much of his cum inside you, and the gorgeous sight brings you over the edge too, cumming as well.

He doesn’t pull out though, burying his face in your neck, gasping for air, groaning and clinging to you tightly, he’s still shuddering and you can feel little spurts of his cum still dribbling in you, pussy completely milking him.

The two of you sat in the car still afterwards in a slightly awkward silence. Both of you panting, trying to come down from your highs, left to fully take in what had just happened and also how thoughtless it was. Fucking Choi beomgyu in the garage? You’re incredibly lucky no one walked in. It wasn’t even like both of you were trying to be quiet either, none of that running through your mind at that moment. What if someone had heard?

Beomgyu, for once, was quiet, his usual smirk replaced with a dazed expression, so far gone. He leans slowly towards you though, looking as if he was about to kiss you again.

“This…this doesn’t mean anything by the way.” You mutter, beginning to button up your shirt.

Beomgyu scoffs, running a hands through his hair. “Doesn’t feel like nothing.”

“Yeah, well, it doesn’t. At all.” You roll your eyes, trying not to freak out, you open the car door, wanting more than anything to just get out. You walk away, leaving him there, disheveled and barely clothed, still slumped in the driver’s seat. And you don’t see it, but there’s a look of almost, somewhat hurt on his face.

A/n: happy new year !!<3 please give this lots of love it was such a bitch to write idk why but I really struggled with this 😭 also I’m so sorry to all the racing fans if makes no sense, I just made up my own kind of racing competition thing. Also the cars do not look anything like f1 cars 😭 more kind of like the nascar ones so they can actually fuck in it 😭 idk bro. I know no nothing about cars or racing. Also I’m sorry if the smut seems rushed and messy, I haven’t edited it and I was lowkey rushing to get this out

Please actually reblog !!!!!! and leave comments !!!! guys if you like the fic. It’s really appreciated and so nice tysm !<3🙏💕🌷🌷! It’s incredibly discouraging and disappointing when fics have such little reblogs ☹️👎🤨. At least send an anon in the inbox if you don’t want to rb, don’t just like. Feedback is always appreciated it makes writers want to actually write more :)

#cams!bookshelf #I LOVE BEOMGYU SM

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seospicybin · 1 day ago

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SEOSPICY PREVIEW.

BAD.

Han x reader. (s,a)

Synopsis: You’ve always known Han Jisung is trouble—the kind of guy who flirts like it’s breathing and disappears like smoke when things get real. But the more time you spend with him, the deeper you fall—despite knowing he’ll probably break your heart. Again and again.

Preview under cut!

...

Sunlight filtered softly through the curtains, warming your bare shoulders, gently waking you up from your slumber. You stirred, stretching out a hand to the other side of the bed—only to find it empty and cold.

Of course. You muttered in your head as you heart sank a little. You let out a quiet sigh and rolled onto your back, staring at the ceiling. You should’ve known better. One night, a little charm, and then gone by morning. Classic. Still, you couldn’t help the flicker of disappointment curling in your chest. Because, as much as you tried not to… you liked Han.

And then—there it was. The unmistakable clatter of something in the kitchen, followed by a low curse.

Pulling on whatever piece of clothing from the floor, you padded out of the bedroom and found him in the kitchen.

Han was shirtless and under the pale sunlight, his tattoos were contrast to his honey skin, his hair messily tousled, standing in front of your coffee machine with a deep frown on his face. His fingers were poking at buttons like they personally offended him. He looked up the moment he sensed you and broke into a sheepish grin.

“Morning. So, I may or may not be losing a fight to this highly complicated coffee machine.”

You squinted, walking closer to assess the issue. “Did you… plug it in?”

He paused and then he checked the back of the machine, finding the unplugged cord hanging limply beside the counter.

“Ah.” He scratched the back of his head while sheepishly chuckling. “That explains the lack of coffee. I was just about to blame capitalism.”

You chuckled despite yourself, shaking your head as you plugged it in. “Are you always this charming in the morning?”

“24/7 actually,” he said, watching you with that same lopsided grin.

As the coffee started brewing, the warm scent beginning to fill the kitchen, you turned toward the fridge. “I’ll make breakfast.”

Han leaned back against the counter, arms crossed over his bare chest as he watched you. “Are you sure? I mean, I was planning to impress you with my gourmet bowl of cereal.”

You rolled your eyes and reached for the eggs. “How about you handle coffee duty, Chef Cereal and I’ll take care of the rest?”

“Copy that, Kitchen Commando,” he said, reaching for two mugs with a mock salute.

The two of you moved around each other in quiet rhythm, filling the kitchen with soft clinks and sizzling sounds. No awkwardness. No morning-after weirdness. Just warmth, quiet laughter, and the smell of coffee and toast. It was… easy, strangely easy and you couldn’t remember the last time something felt like that.

The two of you sat across from each other at the small kitchen table, plates filled with scrambled eggs and toast between you, steaming mugs in hand. He took a bite, chewed, and gave you an impressed nod. You held the urge to chuckle at the way his cheeks puffed as he chewed on his food.

“Okay, chef,” he said with a grin. “This is actually good. I had low expectations after seeing your coffee machine situation.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You mean your coffee machine situation?”

He pointed at you with his fork. “Fair.”

Between bites and sips of coffee, the conversation drifted into something lighter. Easier.

“So, what do you do?” you asked, wiping a crumb off your lip.

Han leaned back a little, stretching his legs under the table. “I work at a music studio. Mostly sound engineering. Some producing. It depends on who’s asking.” He smirked. “But yeah, I help make people sound better than they actually are.”

You laughed. “Do you enjoy it?”

“Yeah,” he said, nodding thoughtfully. “Long hours, weird clients, but music’s kind of the only thing I ever wanted to do. Even when I was a kid.”

There was a flicker of something sincere in his eyes, and for a moment, it made your chest warm.

He tilted his head. “What about you?”

“I co-own a vintage clothing store with a friend,” you said, reaching for your coffee. “We do a lot of curating, reselling, sometimes minor alterations. I’m there most days.”

Han perked up. “Wait, so you’re telling me I know someone with taste and access to cool jackets?”

You smirked. “Maybe.”

“Do I get a discount if I come shop there?” he asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

“That depends. Do you plan on plugging in the coffee machine next time?”

He let out a laugh and dabbed his mouth with a napkin. “Harsh but fair.”

The rest of the morning passed in a blur of coffee refills, inside jokes already forming, and conversations that slipped from playful to surprisingly thoughtful with ease. It felt oddly natural—like the two of you had known each other long enough to tease and jab without hesitation.

And maybe that was what made it so dangerous.Han, with his charm and his grin and his casual warmth—he was the kind of trouble that came wrapped in comfort.

When it was time for him to go, you followed him to the front door, your sweater sleeves pulled down over your hands, fingers gripping the hem to keep yourself from reaching for him. He crouched slightly to put on his sneakers, and a strange heaviness pressed on your chest—the kind that came with goodbyes, especially the ones you didn’t want to say out loud.

This is it, you thought. A fun night. A morning after. And then he disappears like they always do.

But just as he finished lacing up his shoes, Han straightened and turned to face you again. His eyes flicked across your features, lingering in that way that made it feel like he was seeing more of you than he should.

“So,” he said slowly, almost cautiously, “can I see you again?”

Your breath hitched—just for a second. “Well... You know where to find me.”

A smirk crept onto his lips, cocky and triumphant, like he’d just won a game you didn’t realize you were playing. “That I do.”

For a moment, neither of you moved. The space between you stretched taut with something unspoken. His gaze dropped briefly to your lips, and when he stepped forward, it was deliberate.

Han reached up, his fingers gentle as they found your chin and tipped your head slightly toward him. He leaned in slowly—so slowly—and pressed a soft kiss to your lips. It wasn’t lustful or teasing this time. It was tender, like a promise.

When he pulled away, his voice was lower than before. “I’ll see you soon.”

You opened your mouth to respond, to say it back, but you barely got the words out before he leaned in again and kissed you deeper this time, stealing the air from your lungs. It left your head swimming, your hands balled into the fabric of your sweater to keep yourself from holding onto him. And then he stepped back, letting go of your chin with frustrating gentleness. You almost frowned at the absence of his touch but caught yourself, painting a smile on instead.

Han turned toward the door, opened it, and paused—just for a beat. His eyes found yours again, like he was trying to burn the image of you into memory, then he stepped out.

You stood frozen for a moment after the door shut, the silence of your apartment suddenly deafening, and without meaning to, you were already counting the seconds until you saw him again.

...

Full fic is available exclusively on my Patreon:

#seospicy preview #stray kids smut #skz smut #han smut #han x reader #skz x reader #seospicy fics

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iamthatonefangirl · 1 day ago

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awoken - nsfw winter soldier

so the other day I broke y'all (and my own) hearts with disconnect. WELL now we're feeling horny as fuck so here is my olive branch to y'all.

disclaimer: fully consensual by both parties although not explicitly stated. pre-established relationship. dark themes. read at your own discretion.

~~~

you slowly grumbled in your sleep, bringing a hand to rub at your eyes as your body ever so slowly began to rouse. your eyes were puffy from your slumber as you tried to blink them open. you laid on your side, trying to get your bearings as you woke.

you took a deep breath and felt his body heat seeping into your skin, his weight pressing against you from behind, an arm wrapped around your waist...

...and a hand buried in your underwear.

you groan as your mind catches up with the physical sensations encompassing your figure, noticing your leg hitched up over his to spread you just enough for him.

"finally," he hisses from behind you, pulling three soaked fingers out of your already dripping hole to yank your underwear down to your knees.

you take in a raspy inhale when he's suddenly fucking himself into you from behind with no warning at all. your brain short-circuits, not nearly awake enough for this.

you don't care.

you let out a content sigh as he grips your hips with wet fingers, holding you in place for him to take you as he pleases. you shut your eyes, still half asleep, and lean your head back on his shoulder. you hear his rough grunting and hissing in your ear, each sound matching up with each thrust, his grip on your hip tightening every time he pushes back in.

"good morning," you say hoarsely. your voice is still wrecked from having just woken up, desperately in need of water, while also having your breath pushed from your lungs with every movement he makes.

you're teasing, finding it amusing that he couldn't wait any longer, that he so easily succumbed to the needs of his dick.

"you're such a needy little thing even in your sleep," he says, his voice just as wrecked as yours, except he's much more worked up, physically exerting himself doing all the work.

you’re the needy one? you'd let out a laugh if you physically could right now.

"fucking getting wet when I touch you and you're not even awake," he continues, his tone mocking as he speaks to you. it doesn't bother you in the slightest, you're too perfectly content right now. you'll probably go back to sleep after this, get some more rest. thank god it's Saturday, you think.

you let him mindlessly fuck you for a while, unconcerned with anything else in your haze. you might even go back to sleep now.

he must notice your eyes staying shut the whole time, your body lax in his grip. "little cockslut even lettting me fuck her while she sleeps," he whispers into your ear, "just laying there and taking it."

you just hum in content approval once more.

he eventually tires himself out, and moves his hand from your hip to instead wrap his arm around your waist, holding you right up against him. you open your eyes, rousing with the adjustment as he puts pressure on your abdomen. you direct your gaze downwards, even though your vision is blurry, to where you two meet. his rhythm begins to falter and his breathing turns whiny in your ear.

he fills you up with an accompanying grunt in your ear, and lays there for a few minutes without pulling out, holding you in place as he begins to fall back asleep.

you're both basically dead to the world when his fingers begin working over your clit, unsatisfied without feeling you squeeze him so tightly like you always do.

it doesn't take long, your own orgasm far less desperate and much softer than his. your body releases its tension while you bear down on him, a few low whines escaping your throat.

you're both exhausted once more.

"next time, wake me up with your dick down my throat," you whisper to him. he gives your waist a squeeze to acknowledge he heard you, and then you're both out like a light.

~~~

I really hope this isn't my last post for the next few weeks. I'm going out of town but I'll try to feed y'all if I can

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emonaculate · 1 day ago

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Emon babbles...

This idea has been plaguing my mind, but I couldn't figure out how to write it in the way I visualize it in my brain. So, why not give you all what I have in the meantime?

Bandmate!Gojo x Readerــــــــﮩ٨ـ

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo who didn’t even want to be at this tacky-ass three-day audition. He had better things to do than wake up before the birds and the worms just to hear sob stories and half-baked songs from wannabe musicians hoping to ride the coattails of his fame.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo, who’s uncharacteristically… cruel? He claims it’s just because he’s not a morning person—that it has nothing to do with the reason they’re even holding auditions for a new bassist. But Gojo Satoru has always been a terrible liar. Everyone knows it. Especially Shoko.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo still manages to tower over his bandmates, Nanami and Shoko, even while slouched in his seat—absently clicking and unclicking a pen, expression unreadable behind nearly pitch-black shades. He rolls his eyes as another girl onstage gushes about how he saved her, how she loves him… blah blah blah.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo, who gets elbowed—hard—by Shoko. She doesn't need to see his eyes to know he's zoning out and back on his bullshit. She always knows.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo isn’t usually the bad guy. A menace? Sure. Annoying? Absolutely. Cocky? Always. But this version—this cold, detached, almost cruel version? That’s new. That’s not him.

But he doesn’t know how to go back. Back to when the band was whole. Back to when music actually meant something. Back to when Geto was still with him. with the band.

Nothing's been the same since.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo watches the girl slink offstage, dejected after failing to get her “main character moment.” He shouldn’t feel satisfied, but he does. Something is intoxicating about having that kind of power over someone.

“You’re a piece of shit, y’know that?” Nanami’s voice cuts through the silence. Calm. Cold.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo, who usually lets criticism roll off his back like water. After all, he knows who he is: a prodigy, a pioneer, a legend in the making. His influence will echo long after he's gone. But what unsettles him—what really gets under his skin—is when someone sees through the performance. Past the cocky smirk, the designer sunglasses, the tattoos and piercings, the curated persona. Nanami might be one of those people.

And that terrifies him.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo, who pretends Nanami’s stare doesn’t make his skin crawl—doesn’t make him feel seen in the worst possible way. He shrugs, casual and dismissive, but his fingers tighten around the pen in his hand until the plastic creaks.

“Nanami…” Shoko warns, her voice low. She can feel the tension thickening, like a storm about to break. This conversation? It’s been a long time coming.

“No,” Nanami cuts her off, voice gentle but firm. “He needs to hear this. The label won’t say anything, and I know you’re tired of getting dragged for his behavior too.”

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo feels his eye twitch. Slowly, deliberately, he drags his gaze up to meet Nanami’s. A smirk curls at his lips, and he lets out a low, mocking laugh.

“You got something you wanna say to me, Kenny?”

“I’m glad you think all this is funny,” Nanami replies, voice steady, hands tucked neatly in his lap like he’s discussing the weather. “Let me tell you what I find really fucking funny.”

He turns his chair to face Satoru directly and leans forward slightly, manspread, not to intimidate him—but to talk to him, man to man.

“You’re a twenty-three-year-old burnout lashing out at everyone around you. You're angry at the world, but the truth is, you're the reason everything's falling apart. You’re the reason Geto dumped you.”

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo shoots up from his chair, the metal legs screeching violently against the floor before the whole thing crashes backward with a loud clang. The sheer aggression in his movement makes the air crackle. That mocking smirk is gone.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo, who takes a single step forward, and before the second one even lands, Nanami is already moving—controlled, practiced, deliberate. In one fluid motion, he swaps places with Shoko, placing himself squarely between her and Gojo without a word.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo, who seethes as his chest rises and falls, fists clenched tight, turning his knuckles white at his sides. The pen, long forgotten, lies cracked on the floor near the upturned chair.

“You wanna say that again?” He growls, voice low and venomous like a snake ready to strike. His shades had been discarded during the commotion, and his gaze was nothing but a dark azure color as he glared.

Despite how scary Gojo looks at the moment, Nanami remains unshaken and firm. “I don’t repeat myself. You heard me the first time.”

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo, who suddenly feels like he’s vibrating out of his own skin. His vision flashes white-hot with rage and—something else. Guilt, maybe. Pain, definitely. But mostly, he just wants to hit something. Break something. Make someone else feel the way he’s been feeling for months.

Shoko forcefully wedges herself between the two men and lets out a low hum as if she hasn’t just been caught in the middle of a powder keg ready to blow. She gives Nanami a reassuring smile, relieved to see the blonde ease up immediately.

“Alright,” she breathes out lowly, “who wants to explain to the label that the bassist auditions ended in a fistfight? Let's just get through the last audition and call it a night.”

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo, who doesn’t move. Who doesn’t breathe for a second too long? His eyes still locked on his target; Nanami.

Because for all his anger—for all the pressure in his chest and heat behind his eyes—he knows Nanami is right. And that’s what pisses him off the most.

“Please… Satoru?” Her voice is soft, tired in a way that hurts way more than yelling could ever compare. And for a flicker of a second, something in him stirs. Guilt. Once upon a time, he was the guy who would tell someone off for stressing Shoko out. Once upon a time, he was the guy who would protect her.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo tears his eyes away from Nanami wordlessly, jaw tight as he forces himself to back down. The rage in his chest doesn’t vanish, but it simmers just enough to allow him to move. For Shoko.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo, who bends to pick up his chair with slow, deliberate movements, as though controlling the pace of his own unraveling. He counts silently in his head as a means to calm down while he moves the chair. He sets it upright without a word, the echo of metal legs scraping across the floor barely audible over the hush of the room.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo, who doesn’t acknowledge the crew’s concerned murmurs. If they were so concerned, they would have done more to help alleviate the situation besides just watching.

"Are you alright?" "Do you want some water?" "Should we take a break?"

He ignores all of it. Eyes forward. Shoulders squared. Like nothing happened.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo sinks into the chair again, but it’s different now. The slouch is gone. His hands rest on his thighs, clenched into fists. He picked up his sunglasses and placed them on the top of his head. They're slightly lopsided, but he makes no move to fix them.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo was sure he hated himself more than anyone else could.

Y/n, who had been waiting backstage for what felt like hours, hears her name finally called—flatly, almost like an afterthought. Damn. Maybe calling out of work to be here wasn't the brightest idea.

“Next up... Y/N L/N.”

Y/n, who walks in clutching a slightly-too-big journal to her chest, its edges worn and dog-eared from being dragged through years of lyrics and late-night thoughts. A seaweed colored bass, with various aged stickers on it as decor, is slung across her back.

Y/n, who had promised herself she wouldn’t freeze—wouldn’t fangirl or stumble or stare too hard. But when she steps under the lights and sees him in the flesh for the first time, her breath still hitches.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo, who barely even looks like the version of himself plastered across album covers and magazine spreads. There’s no spotlight glow here, no teasing grin or playful arrogance. He was just there.

Y/n, who felt that starstruck shimmer fade, like fog burning off in daylight. Because this close, Gojo Satoru doesn’t look untouchable. He looks hollow. Like someone who lost something or someone important and never figured out how to fill the space it left behind.

Y/n blinks, clears her throat, and adjusts her grip on her journal as she crosses the stage. Her scuffed red high-top Converse echoes with every step.

“Y/n, right? Thanks for waiting.” Shoko meekly smiles; it's clear she wants to give an explanation for the delay, but knows better.

Y/n nods absently and begins shifting her bass around to rest in front of her. “Yeah. Of course.”

She doesn’t say she’s been waiting for this moment her whole life. She doesn’t say that the only thing keeping her from throwing up backstage was the sketch she doodled of her setup in the margins of that same battered journal.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo, who still hasn’t said a word. Still hasn’t really looked at her. Y/n feels something twist in her chest—not disappointment, not exactly. Just the quiet understanding that legends are people, too. Flawed. Fractured. Geez, angsty much?

She plugs in. Fingers hover just above the strings.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo doesn’t bother to look up as the girl starts playing. He’s already heard enough bad renditions of their hits today to fill a lifetime. The stage lights hum. Someone in the crew coughs in the corner. The low rumble of nervous fingers plucking strings reaches his ears. He pulls his shades back down over his eyes; he could already feel a migraine coming on.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo clenches his jaw as she stumbles through the first few measures. The rhythm is off. The timing slips. Her tone’s there, somewhere, but it’s drowning in nerves and a touch too much hesitance. He hears her miss a transition—rookie mistake.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo rolls his eyes so hard it’s a miracle they don’t get stuck. He finally lifts his head just slightly, not enough to meet her eyes, but enough to glare over the rim of his sunglasses.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo, who’s done. He can’t stand another second of it.

“Alright,” he snaps, voice slicing through the room like a whip. “Stop. Fuck. Just—seriously. Stop.”

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo, who stands up, raking a hand through his snowy hair with visible agitation. “This is insane. Every person that walks on this stage either wants to fuck me, cry on me, or butcher my songs like it’s some kind of sick talent show. I don’t need another hopeful fangirl with a decent smile and a hobby.”

His voice rises.

“Where are the real musicians? The ones who feel it in their goddamn DNA? Who play like they’d bleed for it, not like they’re worried about hitting the right note just to impress someone they saw on a magazine cover!”

“Jesus, Satoru…” Shoko winces and mutters under her breath.

“You could’ve just said she’s not ready.” Nanami, presses a hand to his forehead.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo, who meets her stare for the first time. Actually looks at her. And for a moment, something about the way she’s holding her bass again—this time not as a shield, but like a weapon—makes him pause.

“…I appreciate the opportunity…”

Y/n starts and leans into the mic, her voice soft and sweet. She trails off, but her gaze doesn’t break. Something’s changed. The stage lights don’t feel so big anymore. The nerves melt right off her shoulders as she tilts her head, considers him—really considers him. Her gaze flashes from what was once starstruck to almost condescending.

Her sweet, soft tone sharpens into something sharp-edged and raspy—the kind of voice that belongs in front of crowds, under spotlights, on vinyl.

“You say all this about real musicians and what true artists are… but you don’t even look like one yourself.”

The room stills.

“I know I’m a real musician. I know I could keep up with you on your so-called ‘level.’ OR even outplay you. Hell, I could play any song you throw at me blindfolded and I wouldn’t miss a single note.”

She steps closer to the mic, wrapping her manicured hand around it as she raises her voice. The bass hangs at her hip now like it’s fused to her. Her voice is filled with pure confidence and snark.

“So go ahead and throw your tantrum, bitch. But don’t talk to me like I don’t fucking belong here.”

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo, who lets out a sharp laugh—humorless, more reflex than joy. She really just said that. To him. He steps forward slowly, only the sound of the chains around his neck is heard with how quiet the room is.

“Oh, you’ve got nerve, I’ll give you that,” He mutters, tilting his head just slightly to the side. His voice lowers, smug and dangerous. “Big words for someone who can’t even hold tempo under pressure.”

Y/n, however, doesn't waver. Doesn’t shift. She just watches him, chest rising and falling steadily, like she wants him to try her. The look in her eyes screams nothing if not defiant.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo, who sees the challenge in her eyes and decides, Fine. You want to prove it? Let's see you burn.

“Alright, hotshot.” He lifts a hand and snaps his fingers toward a crew member. “Bring me a six-string. Get the monitors live.”

“You’re seriously doing this now?”

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo, who ignores Nanami's protests, is already pulling off his black aviator jacket and letting it fall carelessly behind a speaker. Someone hands him his guitar—a weathered custom model, black body, silver hardware, nearly as iconic as he is. His toned arms flex underneath his grey wife-beater as he holds the guitar.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo, who doesn’t even need to tune it. Just slings it on and strums a few warmup chords with effortless precision, muscle memory sharp from years of living in this world. He looks up at her, eyes glinting behind his crooked shades.

“Let’s make this simple,” he says, voice low. “You say you can hang with me? Prove it. ‘Charmolypi.’”

Y/n stills as she hears the title—not from fear, but sheer shock. That track was never released as sheet music. No tabs. No official breakdowns. Only the live version exists online—jagged, brutal, unforgiving. The song that reminds him of Geto. The song Gojo never plays anymore.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo watches Y/n closely now, waiting for her to fold. Daring her to.

“Blindfolded, right?” he adds with a singsong grin that’s almost cruel. “Unless that was just another line for the mic.”

Y/n slowly, silently, pulls her journal from the amp where she left it. She sets it down. Unzips a side pocket. Pulls out a black ribbon and ties it calmly around her head—right over her eyes. The room suddenly became even quieter.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo, whose smirk falters for just a second. Y/n lifts the bass effortlessly and adjusts her grip, then rolls her shoulders back like she's about to dive head first off a cliff.

“I hope you’re ready to keep up with me,” Y/n says into the mic.

There's a pause in her words...

“Bitch.”

Ah there it is.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo, who can’t stop the sharp, stunned laugh that bursts out of him.

“…You’re insane.”

But this time, he doesn’t sound mad. He sounds alive.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo doesn’t look at her right away. He watches her in fragments. Through the slant of his lowered head. Through his lashes. Through the spaces between his thoughts, where the ghosts tend to live.

Charmolypi. A song with a name that means joy mixed with grief. A kind of beauty that hurts to hold. It was never meant for public ears, just something born between long nights, cigarette smoke, and a friendship that cracked before it could heal.

He plays the opening chords like muscle memory—because it has to be. His fingers know the way better than his heart does. That part of him got buried under too many headlines and hangovers, under too many nights he couldn’t quite remember but always seemed to end with Geto’s name stuck in his throat.

The strings hum.

And then she begins to play. Y/n, blindfolded, hands steady, pulse louder than the amp she plugs into. And yet, she starts anyway.

She comes in slightly behind him at first, just a breath too cautious. He’s already rolling his eyes in the back of his mind when she catches the rhythm mid-step, and holds it. No stutter. No flinch. It’s like watching someone walk a tightrope barefoot, terrified and trembling, but still refusing to fall. He almost respects it. Then she improvises.

Not just to show off. It’s nothing flashy. No desperate finger-speed acrobatics like the other posers who tried to impress him with technique and no soul. This? This is something else. She adds four notes. Quiet. Intentional. Mournful in a way that feels too intimate to be accidental. A deviation so subtle it would’ve gone unnoticed—except Gojo feels it; right in the center of his goddamn chest.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo suddenly looks at her. Really really looks. The blindfold. The curve of her mouth, not smirking, not posing. Just concentrating. Like she’s trying to wring something honest from a song that was never meant to see the light of day. Her hands move like she’s searching. Not for applause, but for meaning.

And something sharp pierces the haze behind his eyes. For a second, he sees Geto.

Geto, who used to press his forehead to Gojo’s back after long studio sessions and hum the bassline into his spine while Gojo pretended it didn’t make his breath hitch.

Geto, who co-wrote Charmolypi in a hotel bedroom while the rest of them slept. Who refused to write lyrics for it because he said the music should “ache in silence.”

Geto, who walked out of Gojo’s life without ever saying goodbye. No closure. No letters. Just an empty seat, and a song that no one else was ever supposed to touch.

Until now.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo, whose jaw clenches. Because she shouldn’t be able to play this. She shouldn't understand the weight of it. And yet—here she is. Breathing life into something he left to rot. Y/n, who improvises again during the bridge. Adds a cascading fill that slips through his melody like water through fingers. It's like she’s not playing with him. She’s playing to him. Speaking in a language only musicians and broken people understand.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo, who suddenly can’t look away. There’s something infuriating about her. About the way she walks in here, green and trembling, but still braver than half the industry fakes he’s had to deal with in the last year. She’s raw. She’s rough around the edges. But she’s honest. And that’s the one thing he’s been starving for without even knowing it. The final note hangs in the air. It echoes like the end of a confession. Silence follows. But not the kind that asks for applause. It’s heavier than that. Reverent. Like something just shifted.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo exhales, and realizes he was holding his breath. He hates that she made him do that.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo, who speaks first, low and flat. “You improvised.”

“Was I not allowed to?” Y/n, still blindfolded, lifts her chin.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo almost says yes. Almost says she ruined it. But he remembers the ache in that bridge. The way her fingers knew where to fill the silence.

“You made it better,” he says instead, the words tasting like betrayal.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo, who looks at the girl still standing on that stage like it doesn’t take everything in him not to ask her to play it again. Not because he needs proof—but because he needs to feel that truth again. That ache. That joy. That grief. He’ll never tell her what Charmolypi really means. He’ll never tell her how he and Geto played the song for the first time together, as a confession for things unsaid, both of them bleeding in different ways, neither willing to say it out loud. He’ll never tell her that this was the first time the song didn’t feel like a grave.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo, who knows now: he’s going to keep her around.

Not for romance. Not for drama. But because something about her matters. And for the first time in a long time, Gojo Satoru wants to see what comes next.

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hencheri · 2 days ago

Text

▸ 18+ mdni.

| pairing. bf!anton x fem!reader

| warnings. noncon, misogyny, physical abuse, toxic relationship, loss of virginity, anton is really really mean legit overly mean im sorry.

based on this request. sorry for the long wait </3

seeing you laugh with that man, someone he doesn’t know and he’s never seen before, anton feels his stomach tying into knots. it hurts as he swallows, the lump in his throat refusing to go away. he watches from afar, his eyes following each one of your movements; your hand curling around his arm, fingers lingering too long for this conversation to be considered friendly. that’s not a friend, anton tells himself.

the words of his friends replay in his head. he wants to forget about them, ignore how brutal they sounded, how it made him question everything about you. he can’t help but wonder if eunseok wasn’t right, if the reason why you refuse to let him touch you is because you’re sleeping with someone else.

as he sees you so close to that guy with this pretty smile on your face he loves so much, the accusation of your infidelity only echoes louder in his head. he remembers wonbin’s mocking grin, agreeing with eunseok and adding salt to the wound by painting the horrible picture of you having sex with another man in anton’s head.

he told them to go fuck themselves before storming off and leaving eunseok’s apartment. he walked back home thinking his friends were just assholes, and it’s not so far from the thruth, but maybe they figured out what anton couldn’t.

he stays hidden until the guy leaves and he waits for you to get inside. when he pushes the door to your apartment open, you’re sitting at the dining table, slipping your shoes off, that same smile you offered to that stranger on your lips as you greet him.

anton only hums, quickly removing his jacket and getting his sneakers off as well. he’s silent, looking a little grumpy, glancing everywhere but at you. he walks into the kitchen that’s open to the dining table and you rise up from your seat, a frown on your face.

“you came back early,” you say, your voice soft as always, making it harder for anton to believe you could do such things to him. “it didn’t go well with the boys?” you ask and it bugs him how you read him so well.

he shrugs, “it’s whatever.”

“i’m sorry,” you pout, looking at anton with big eyes.

then the room falls silent.

his eyes land on you and you just look so sweet and small, like touching you would break you. you’re his, you’re his girlfriend. he can’t bring himself to imagine you with anyone else but him, can’t accept the idea of your virginity belonging to someone who isn’t him.

he closes the gap between you two and kisses you, his mouth immediately taking control of yours. you’re taken aback and stumble backwards, but he keeps you from falling, hands tightly gripping your hips. this kiss is nothing like the ones he usually gives you. it’s not a quick, soft peck on the lips, it’s the opposite—there’s teeth and tongues, groans and moans, grabby hands fumbling with your clothes.

anton wants to prove that eunseok and wonbin are wrong—tonight, you will let your boyfriend touch you, you will let him take you because you’re not fucking someone else behind his back.

his hands roam over your body with a lot of impatience, hungrily moving his mouth over yours and leaving no time for you to breathe. he has to catch up on all the times you refused him before, he needs you to give yourself up to him, needs to know you want him, too.

but just as he thinks you’re finally ready, you push him back and back away from him.

“anton,” you call his name breathily, your chest heaving up and down rapidly. you lightly shake your head and he understands you’re rejecting him again.

he decides to ignore you—maybe you need just a bit more convincing. anton pulls you back against him, leaning down and connecting his lips to your neck, kissing and biting. he feels your hands pushing his chest, he hears your noises of disapproval and he doesn’t stop, but then you use more force than expected, pushing anton off of you.

“what the fuck?” he says, sounding harsh and offended.

“anton, i’m sorry, but i’m not-”

you try to explain yourself to him, but your voice is only background noises to him. all that’s playing in his head right now are his friends’ words again.

‘gotta hit her, put her in her place’, wonbin had said. ‘when a bitch acts up, that’s all it takes to make her listen’, eunseok chimed in.

as anton looks at you, wet and shiny eyes on him, begging him to calm down, he simply goes mad. he lifts up his hand and your whole expression changes, fear passing through your eyes and for some twisted reason, it pleases him.

he backhands you across the face and your head flies to the side, mouth opening in shock, but you have no time to recover until he puts his hand around your neck, forcing you to look into his eyes.

“you fucking listen to me for once,” he spits out, an amount of anger you’ve never thought him capable to hold driving his actions. “i’m tired of you treating me like i’m a goddamn fool, denying me basic fucking needs just because you wanna act a prude.” his words come out like venom, like a punishment, hitting as hard as the slap he gave you.

you’re crying now, tears after tears falling on your cheeks, dipping down to your neck and pilling over anton’s fingers. he doesn’t care, though. it doesn’t compare to the constant rejection you made him go through, the humiliation he felt because of that, his friends’ mocking laughs directed at him.

and so he puts you in your place.

panties stuffed in your mouth so you can’t tell him what to do anymore, so you can’t cry and tell him no again. legs thrown over his shoulders, cunt swallowing his cock for the first time, pounding you into the mattress, no care for your nails digging into his back or muffled screams of his name. he doesn’t care like you never cared about his feelings.

“you let that guy fuck you, don’t you?” he grunts into your ear, his hand belonging around your throat, threatening to tighten at any moment. anton’s hips are relentless, using you like you’re just a hole, and that’s how he wants you to feel. dirty, soiled… well-fucked. “why else would you always reject me, huh? you’re just a fucking whore. great at pretending, i’ll give you that,” he scoffs.

it doesn’t matter if you don’t know what he’s talking about. it doesn’t matter either if he doesn’t make sense. anton has to make sure you never disrespect him like this ever again.

#im embarrassed mean is the only type of man i can write #[ ★ ] dark content #— ☆ starring riize #w/ anton !#riize x reader #riize smut #riize hard hours #anton x reader #anton smut

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himasgod · 1 day ago

Note

HEAR ME OUT. Sebek/Malleus/Silver bring the girl home/dormitory. Lilia: *draws out a huge photo album with the most embarrassing pictures* so when he was 3 he accidentally knocked over his potty.... *long paternal recounting of the boy's childhood*.

DIASOMNIA X READER

Where Lilia shows you embarrasing photos of the boys as children

Where Silver, Malleus and Sebek invite you to Lilia's house to formally introduce you as his partner… but Lilia is faster at taking out the photo album

You’re honored (and slightly terrified) to be invited to Malleus’s castle. It’s all cal until a familiar giggle echoes down the corridor.

“Oh~ what’s this? Malleus brought someone special~?”

Malleus doesn’t even flinch. He smiles, polite as ever. “Yes. I hoped you would meet her, Lilia.”

“Excellent!” Lilia spins into the lounge, dragging a wheeled cart stacked with five albums. “Let me share the legend of Briar Valley's Heir: Baby Dragon Malleus.”

Malleus sighs softly. “Do we need to—”

“Oh hush. This is important heritage. Now, look here, lady—this was Malleus when he got curious about human inventions. He once tried to sit in a refrigerator because he thought it was a portal to a cold realm. He was twenty. Just a toddler in fae's age. And his little horns were growing and he was getting stuck in a lot of places, so…”

You stare at the photo. Malleus is curled up inside a fridge like an overgrown cat, the door unable to shut.

“I was… investigating dimensional storage,” he explains calmly.

"He once asked some frogs if they would crown him. Some frogs! He told me "If I am the future king of these lands, all the animals will be under my rule." SOME FROGS!! In the end, we gave him a coronation with toy frogs. He got so angry that the real frogs were struck by lightning-"

You cover your mouth, snorting.

Malleus looks at you, utterly unbothered. “I have always embraced whimsy.”

Lilia beams. “Best boy.”

You barely make it through the front door before you hear it.

“Oh~ Sebek, my boy! You brought someone home~?”

Sebek instantly stiffens beside you. “Master Lilia!”

Lilia floats into view with the speed of someone who’s been waiting for this moment since forever. He claps gleefully, disappearing into a side room and returning with a massive album covered in glittery frog stickers.

“Oh, you’re gonna love this,” he says sweetly, flipping it open.

“This one’s Sebek when he was five. He was trying to prove how brave he was—stood on the edge of the pond in the backyard and shouted, ‘I fear NOTHING!’ and then fell straight in. Cried for twenty minutes because his favorite boots got soggy.”

Sebek looks like he’s going to combust. “L-lilia, PLEASE!”

“Oh, and here’s one where he’s yelling at a squirrel for ‘mocking the young heir Lord Malleus’!”

You try not to laugh, really, you do.

But Sebek’s bright red face and Lilia’s absolute joy at recounting every high-volume disaster of his childhood?

Impossible.

“I think it’s sweet,” you say, smiling at Sebek.

Sebek hides behind his hands. “Please… don’t listen to any more of his lies…”

Lilia smirked searching for another photo “I never lie. I only... embellish lovingly.”

Silver brings you with that serene air of a man who thinks everything will go peacefully.

He is wrong.

The moment the door opens, Lilia peeks around the corner, eyes gleaming.

“Oh my~ you brought a guest, Silver~?”

Silver nods. “I wanted you to meet her.”

“WONDERFUL!” Lilia yells. “SIT DOWN. I HAVE STORIES.”

Silver gives you a look that says, you can still run.

But you sit.

He sighs and accepts his fate.

Lilia slams a pink binder onto the table.

“This boy—this sweet baby—once slept through his own birthday party. We made a lovely picnic in the woods. He woke up the next morning and asked why there were balloons.”

Silver groans quietly. “You said you wouldn’t tell people that…”

“And here’s a photo of him as a toddler hugging a tree because he thought it was a ‘very patient person’.”

You gasp. “That’s… kind of adorable.”

Silver: 🧍🏻‍♂️“…”

“And this one—he was ten, and he fell asleep mid-sentence. He said, ‘Father, I wish to go out and explore the wooorrr—’” Lilia pantomimes a faceplant. “Straight into the soup bowl.”

You’re cackling by this point, while Silver tries not to die of secondhand embarrassment.

“He still does that sometimes,” Lilia says fondly.

Silver mumbles, “I can hear you.”

#malleus x reader #malleus x yuu #malleus draconia x reader #malleus draconia x yuu #sebek x reader #sebek x yuu #sebek zigvolt x reader #sebek zigvolt x yuu #malleus draconia x you #sebek zigvolt x you #silver vanrouge x reader #silver x reader #silver x yuu #silver vanrouge x yuu #silver x you #twisted x reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted scenario

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sunassweetheart · 3 days ago

Text

Suna Rintaro HCs

general + relationship + NSFW

general:

his Instagram photo dumps are always good

does NOT play about his Adopt Me pets

has an iron deficiency. Always tired and exhausted but it pushes him harder in games when it makes him feel out of body

Labubu collection

NAVAL PIERCING???? IDK GUYS (I like my men a lil slutty sorry)

relationship:

if you ask him to do something, he’ll be all dramatic about it but doesn’t actually mind and will always do you favors anyway

loves leaving small light hickeys down your neck and around your collarbone. Nothing super crazy or super noticeable, he just likes seeing them when you guys cuddle and his face is snug in the crook of your neck

loves watching 2000s rom-coms with you

likes to pick out your outfits for you (and they’re always so good too)

will quote memes/old vines every and any time. Imagine Atsumu showing him and Osamu a cool trick he learned and Suna just mocks him with “That was legitness.”

NSFW (post-timeskip):

let’s you ride him after a long day of college volleyball while tracing one hand down your body and the other, tucked behind his head

he is absolutely recording it so he can have videos and pictures while he’s at far away games

if you’re wearing any of his clothes, he’s taking off everything but them. “Fucking you just isn’t enough huh? Gotta wear my clothes too?” As his scent lingers all around you and he’s groping your breast through the thin fabric of his T-shirt

LOVESSS fingering you hehe. He just likes to observe how you and your body reacts, it’s his go-to trick when you’re having a bad day

plays music while you guys fuck, slowly thrusting deep into you and holding you close to him while some slow R&B song plays quietly in the background

#suna rintaro haikyuu #suna rintaro x reader #suna rintarō #suna rintarou #suna x reader #suna rintaro x you #suna rintaro x y/n #suna rintaro fluff #haikyu x you #haikyu fluff #haikyu x reader #haikyuu #hq x you #hq x reader #hq fluff #hq smut #hq

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pittsick · 7 hours ago

Text

SAY THAT AGAIN.

summary: Spencer is known to talk a lot, always spluttering facts and analysis to people. Everyone always gets annoyed at him for that, except you, who thinks it’s so hot of him. So what happens when you start to flirt shamelessly with Spencer and tell him to use that mouth between your legs?

pairing: spencer reid x afab coworker.

cw: +18. mdni. 1.4k words. praise. submissive spencer. soft dom reader. oral sex (reader receiving). workplace setting. semi-public. light hair pulling. soft mocking & teasing. dirty-talking.

taglist: @blastzachilles @lvve-talks @jordiemeow @strfallz @222col @soulxinxthexsky @diyasgarden @jinxedbambi @lexiiscorect @religionlost @bluestrd @jclolz22 @magicalmiserybore @destinedtobegigi @fwaist @talsorchard @lovefaist @shahabaqsa0310 @prismozo @jesuistrestriste

The bullpen was always a little too loud on Fridays. Even with the weight of the week dragging on everyone’s shoulders, the team still found ways to stir up banter between case files. You were on your third coffee and second round of edits to your victimology when Spencer started talking again.

"Actually, there’s a statistically significant link between victims who are last seen leaving bars alone and offenders who grew up in households with substance abuse. It’s often a subconscious association—they target vulnerability they recognize from childhood experiences."

You didn’t even look up from your computer screen. You didn’t have to. You could see him in your periphery, perched on the corner of your desk like he always did when he felt like talking but didn’t want to be annoying.

Everyone else groaned.

"Reid," Morgan said without looking up. "No one's trying to psychoanalyze the bar scene, man."

JJ gave him a tired smile. "Maybe just let us finish the file first?"

But you? You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from grinning. Because while everyone else rolled their eyes at Spencer’s endless supply of facts, you were quietly, wildly obsessed.

You liked the way he talked. Not just the cadence, fast and breathless, but the certainty in it. The pure, unfiltered excitement he had about things most people barely noticed. It made your brain light up.

It also didn’t hurt that he was cute as hell, with his tie always slightly crooked and his curls getting messier as the week went on. You’d had a crush on him since your third day at the BAU. That was eight months ago, and somehow you were still holding it together.

Sort of.

"Keep going, Reid," you said casually, eyes still on the screen. "You were saying something about behavioral mimicry?" Spencer froze, blinking like he wasn’t sure he’d heard you correctly.

Then he leaned in, voice lower now, almost conspiratorial. "Right—uh, yes. Behavioral mimicry. So there’s this phenomenon where serial offenders, especially disorganized ones, subconsciously recreate aspects of their own trauma. So if, say, they were abandoned at a train station, they might pick their victims from transit centers or leave the bodies there as a symbol of—"

You looked up slowly, smiling as your eyes locked on his. "God, that mouth of yours."

His lips parted. "What?"

You tilted your head. "Nothing. I just like hearing you talk."

His brows pulled together, confused. You watched the blush crawl up his neck and knew exactly what you were doing. "Actually, most people find it annoying," he said, a little too fast.

You stood up, brushing against his knee as you moved to grab another file. "I’m not most people." He swallowed hard.

By the end of the day, he was visibly short-circuiting.

You weren’t mean about it. Just a little flirty. Soft touches on his arm when you passed by. Compliments about his tie, his lecture from the week before, the way he’d handled the victim’s family. Spencer, being Spencer, didn’t know what to do with it.

It wasn’t until the two of you ended up alone in the briefing room, long after the others had left, that he finally broke. You were leaning against the table, flipping through photos, when he hovered near the door.

"You, uh… you keep complimenting me today," he said quietly. You looked up with an amused smile. "Is that so weird?"

He ran a hand through his curls. "Kind of? Yes? I mean, not—uh—not in a bad way. I just—"

You dropped the photos and stepped closer. He stopped talking immediately. You looked up at him—he was taller—and reached to tug lightly at the knot of his tie. "You want me to stop?" you asked.

His eyes flicked to your mouth, then back up. "No."

"Good." You pulled him in by the tie and kissed him.

He made the softest, most surprised sound, mouth moving eagerly under yours. Your hands slid into his hair, tugging gently. He melted into it. You pulled back slightly, grinning at how he was acting. Almost like a puppy.

"You ever kissed someone who wanted to shut you up and hear you talk at the same time?" you murmured. He looked wrecked already. "I… I don’t know."

"Well," you whispered, brushing your lips over his again. "I’ve thought about that mouth between my legs more times than I can count. So maybe it’s time you give me a little demonstration, Dr. Reid."

He blinked, stunned. "Y-You want me to—"

"Use that brain and that mouth," you said. "Be a good boy for me, yeah?"

You didn’t even make it out of Quantico.

You pulled him into one of the unused consult rooms, the door locked behind you. There was a couch along the back wall, and it was just big enough. The room smelled like dry-erase markers and stale coffee, but all you could focus on was Spencer kneeling in front of you, hands shaking slightly as you guided him.

You sat back, thighs spread, skirt pushed up.

"Take your time," you said softly. "But I want you to look at me the whole time, okay?" He nodded, so eager it almost broke your heart.

And then he leaned in.

His hands rested on your thighs like he didn’t know what to do with them, until you grabbed one and laced your fingers through it. "Start with kissing," you said. "Everywhere. Take it slow."

And he did. Lips brushing your inner thigh, trailing higher, then back down again. He paused at the waistband of your underwear, kissing right through it, a little tremble running through him.

"You're doing so good," you murmured, stroking his curls. "Don’t be shy."

He licked his lips, eyes wide as he hooked his fingers into the fabric and tugged gently. You lifted your hips to help him, watching as he pushed them down and stared like he’d never seen anything so perfect.

"You smell so good," he whispered, blushing immediately after he said it.

You laughed softly, brushing his hair back. "Do I, now? Why don’t you show me how much you like the smell?"

Spencer lowered his head.

The first drag of his tongue was cautious—gentle, exploratory. He moaned, actually moaned, into you, like the taste had short-circuited his brain. He licked again, slower this time, then circled your clit with delicate, deliberate pressure with the pad of his tongue. Taking his time with you were his last meal on Earth.

"Just like that," you breathed. "Yes, Spencer—just like that. God, you’re so good at this."

The praise made him whimper.

You kept a hand in his hair, guiding him when he needed it. He settled into a rhythm quickly, a little desperate, his tongue working you open like he was memorizing every reaction. When you gasped, he did it again. When your thighs tensed, he moaned against you.

"Such a quick learner," you said, voice breathy. "No wonder you finished multiple PhDs before thirty."

His groan vibrated against your clit. You tugged his hair gently. He looked up at you, mouth glistening, pupils blown wide. "You like when I talk about how smart you are while you eat me out?" He nodded, dizzy.

"I knew it. God, Spencer, you’re a mess down there. So eager. You could lecture me on criminal psychology while making me cum, couldn’t you?"

"I-I could try," he mumbled, voice muffled against your thigh. You smiled, pulling him back in.

He sucked your clit this time, tentative at first, then harder when you moaned. You let your head fall back against the wall, hips grinding against his mouth, hands gripping his curls with just enough pressure to let him know you were in charge.

"Don’t stop," you whispered. "I’m close. Be a good boy and keep going—make me cum, boy genius."

He moaned like it was his name.

You came hard, thighs clenching around his face, his tongue working you through it with unrelenting devotion. He didn’t stop until you pulled him back by the hair, gently, catching your breath. His mouth was red and shiny, chin soaked.

"You okay?" you asked, brushing his hair from his face.

He nodded quickly. "Yes. Very okay." You pulled him up onto the couch with you and kissed him, tasting yourself on his lips. He melted into it again, arms winding around you like he never wanted to leave. "Spencer," you said between kisses, "if you want to do that again sometime… just start talking."

He grinned shyly, breathless. "I usually can’t stop."

"Exactly," you whispered, nipping his lower lip. "That’s what makes you so good at it."

#★ mika’s writing .ᐟ #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds blurb #criminal minds smut #spencer reid #spencer reid x fanfiction #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid smut

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adoresia · 1 day ago

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FRISON ⋆ Armin Arlert

(noun) a shudder or shiver; thrill — suggestive

Armin doesn't usually go to silly High School parties. he tells everyone it's because he hates the noise — but its really because he doesn't know what to do with himself once hes there… too stiff in the limbs and way to aware of the way he takes up space. he's the kind to keep his phone brightness low and his voice lower.

but, Eren said you were coming. So now, he's here too.

"You're telling me you've bever kissed anyone and now you think you'll be able to bag a kiss, from her?" Eren teases him before pointing at your unmissable figure from across the room. For a moment he zoned out — gaze softening as it landed on you, like the rest of the world had quietly fallen away and you were the only one left standing there in silence.

"Helloooo? dude." Connie swatted a hand across his face, bringing back his consciousness to them instead. your image still lingered on the back of his eyelids . "What's going on in that pretty little head Armin? Fantasising about holding hands huh? Maybe even more?". Eren barked a laugh, lurching forward in an attempt to high five connie but completely missing instead.

Still though, Armin didnt plan in actually going up to you — not until Eren slapped down a bet…

"Twenty bucks says you don't get a kiss from her tonight…" he raised his eyebrow at him. "do you even have twenty dollars Eren." Mikasa chimed in as an attempt to defend Armin, rolling her eyes at his stupid bet.

But Armin was barely even present, his thoughts were clouded and sticky — dripping down his spine like syrup. Plus hes already two drinks in thanks to Eren and Connie… they called it 'liquid confidence'.

He's not drunk though.. just bold enough.

"Armin why are you still standing here. You look like a sick victorian child silently begging for help, can you just go and talk to her." Sasha deadpanned, popping up beside him. "I'm working on it… just need to calculate the timing." He responded. Eyes still glued on you. Sasha looked at him and then at you from across the room.

"Well.. if your gonna stand there all night with a suspiciously filled red cup in your hands at least act like it's not fruit shoot mixed with vodka…"

Despite it being half fruit shoot, it still burned going down. But the heat that followed felt steadier than the one rushing to his face. That's how he found himself moving — still a bit hesitant but just enough to melt into the crowd. He tried not to overthink his breath and the way his shirt clung slightly to his back. Until he stupidly stumbled into a taller guy. Disrupting his thoughts, and not hesitating to shove him back.

"Brother… watch where you're going."

"Sorry.. I'm so sorry." he mumbled, almost pleading. head ducked and stepping away a little more sober than he was before his thought process was disturbed and he had you in his line of vision. Maybe not the straightest line but it's the thought that counts…

And when he turned around, there you were.

you looked at him like he belonged there, like he didn't need Eren's shove or Connie's teasing. Or even the burn of that half fruit shoot half vodka drink in his throat. All you had to say was "hey." and that was enough for him

Eventually after a bit of nervous back and forth, you both got swept up in one of the quieter rooms upstairs. Sprawled mismatched cushions and someone's older brothers mattress. It was dim and hazy, the buzz of low music seeped through the space under the door. You sat cross legged opposite him, close enough for him to be able to smell what you were wearing.

That was bad.. very bad for him.

"Hmmm let's see. Never have I ever.." you tilted your head back, eyes drifting up at the ceiling in mock concentration. you're finger tip hoevered just over your lips — long enough for him to notice the tinted lipgloss you had on. It took you a while to figure out what else to ask, until curiosity hit you hard.

"Never have I ever… got a piercing."

he took a nervous sip from his fruit shoot diluted drink, and then chocked. that was all it took.

you gasped at the realisation, eyes wide. "No way.. really? Where?" He hesitated a bit, remembering how stupid it was and how he wished he never gave into Connie. But hey it's crazy what 75% orange juice mixed with 15% alcohol does to you right?

"My tongue…"

A beat passed.

"WHAT?" you yelled, accidentally. Choking on your drink in the process. "YOU? have a TONGUE piercing…?"

His face was already burning with embarrassment. He nodded, heat rising to his cheeks as he lowered his head in an attempt to hide what couldn't be seen, yet. "It's… you can't really um see it. Connie dared me, he periced it in his garage last summer. I still dont know why I let him do that."

You laughed, and his stomach flipped. "That's insane. But, cool." You admitted. "You think?" He questioned, his nervousness still lingering, yet you nodded. "You don't seem like the type." You added. " — but, I bet the girls you kiss appreciate you for it." You said leaning in just a little, the way someone does when they already know the answer but want to hear it anyway.

He didn't know how to respond. though for a second he wondered if you'd appreciate it more than said 'girls' he kissed. "Uhh.. yeah? I guess.." The tension grew thicker, staring even harder into his eyes didn't help either. You narrowed your eyes. "Hmm. Have you ever kissed someone before?"

He cleared his throat at the sudden question. "Uhh.. define kiss…"

You tilted your head, watching him fumble. It was entertaining. "So.. no..?" His cheeks flushed and his ears started burning. "I promise I know how. I just…haven't — yet…" a beat of silence stretched. You stared at him, eyes flickering to his lips. Drawn with curiosity — eagerness. And when you spoke again your voice dropped just enough to make his pulse stutter.

"Yet..?" You persisted, almost provokingly. "What are you waiting for?" The silence that followed was awkward, clumsy — but telling. he didn't necessarily know what he was waiting for; if it wasn't you, he hadn't thought that far ahead.

"Um. I don't know." He said quietly, voice a little hoarse.

"Okay. How about… you kiss me?"

He didn't answer at first. Just blinked, stunned and pink… and a little breathless. Like no one had ever offered before, which they haven't… the music from downstairs piles beneath the floorbaords, matching the beasts of his heart, it muted the distance and the weight of whatever was about to happen.

"Okay."

He leans in slowly at first, like he's not sure if he's reading this right. Like if he moves too fast he'll ruin it, yet still his eyes flicker to your lips, and then back up. Looking for some sort of sign. But you don't look away, and maybe that's all he needs.

He comes closer, until you can feel the warmth of him, the static air between you buzzing with something nervous and fragile. And then he closes the space. Not perfectly, his nose bumps into your and then he hesitates. Leaning in too fast — as if he doesn't trust himself to think it through first like he normally would. But his mouth is warm, and soft, and he makes this tiny sound when you kiss him back, like he's didn't expect you to.

He kisses like someone who knows what to do, but doesn't know what it'll feel like or how to execute it. Like his brain is lagging behind his heart. you feel it in the way his hands hover before sitting awkwardly on your lap, in the way he leans in again before you've pulled all the way back.

You laugh under your breath, barely. Your chest stutters when he chases the sound — kissing you again, clumsy this time. Wanting more than what you've already offered him. Needy in a way that makes something tighten in your chest.

"Okay wow" you pulled back, kind of shocked but also impressed. "Slow down a little, okay?" he blinked at you, still dazed as if he never pulled away from you. But then he kissed you again anyway, as if it was instinct, as if the second he stopped he felt like he lost the chance to feel you again. Like he could taste the courage in your mouth and he didn't want it to fade.

he walked home the next day during the quiet hum of the early morning, hoodie was zipped halfway and his eyes were on then pavement like it might give him answers. He didn't say much when they left the party — not because he didn't want to but because he couldn't find the words possible enough to decipher what just happened.

Connie walked ahead arguing with Jean over something dumb Eren said and mikasa trailed beside him, way too quiet for someone who had not slept.

"Bro still hasn't got a kiss, how lame." Connie called back to him suddenly, tossing the words like a pebble into still water. "That whole party and still nothing? Goodness me. Bless your little socks."

Armin didn't answer. Mikasa glanced back at him with the same expression. "Doesn't look like he's answering." She added. "Well yeah duh. It's because he didn't kiss her." He rolled his eyes. his ears were red and his hands were tucked deep into his sleeves, keeping his gaze down hoping that just maybe he he focused hard enough the sidewalk might open up and swallow him whole.

"No kiss huh?" Eren teased, throwing another look at Armin. "Nah bro. He's a lost cause…" Connie sighed.

armin never blieved in magic, but something about you feels like the kind that doesn't need a name.

PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT ;

nobody can say they fw Armin like me and liv do. that nerdmin art has you guys all on ropes (including me but thats not the point) THE POINT IS YOU GUYS ARE FAKE and we (me and liv) are the real fans BECAUSE okay let me speak okay. nobody knows about the time you would open the ‘armin x reader’ tag and only see me and liv in there bro UOU GUYS DONT KNOW the struggles we went through when nobody gave a gaf about him but now yoh guys do. NOW YOU GUYS ARE FEINING FOR HIM? okay. its okay? its alrught. just remember, were the og’s. i rest my case.

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all-with-angel · 2 days ago

Text

Ho is u magic?

❥ Magical Girl!Satoru x Injured civillian!Reader

❥ Injury on reader, fem!reader, porn with sorta plot, oral(m!receving), p in v, creampie, mating press, hints of a breeding kink, overstimulation, lowk mean but also pathetic satoru, this is nasty

Masterlist || MDNI.

Gojo Satoru who was just another guy in highschool, maybe anti social and closed off. But then, one night, a stray shooting star landed in the middle of the schools field while he was sneaking around to meet with his plug (Suguru) or sumthin.

Now, instead of his cute, girly and typical magical girl-esque classmates finding it, he did. And from then on, he was pretty much a superhero to japan. (And it didn't stop there, multiple other magical girls popped up! Each one more manly and muscled up than the last! LOL)

Magical Girl!Satoru thought that if he saved the world once, the curse blessing of being a magical girl would go away. So he saved the world from villains, fueled by embarrassment and spite.

Then he did it again.

And again.

But now, he is literally in his late 20's and is still a goddamn magical girl. He's learned to accept it, just like the rest of the world when they were given these insanely overpowered magical girls saving the world everyday for almost 10 years now!

His kind of situation is kind of the norm nowadays, hero agencies popping up to regulate the pretty magical heroes and their fanmail and merch.

That brings us to today where...

You get caught up in a villain attack in the middle of your commute to your boring, mindless corporate job. Some sludge-y looking monster wreaking havoc and flipping cars while you struggled to get away.

As you try to get away, you notice a kid get stuck under rubble and pull them out after a bit of struggle, but at that point, luck wasn't exactly on your side. The monster had noticed you and shot out some kind of purple-colored beam at you.

That was moments before you were pushed back by the sheer force and into a wrecked car, brain already fuzzy from the pain and the weird beam.

When you blearily open your eyes, you see a group of Magical Girls taking down the monster. One of them notices you and flies down to you immediately, from the bright blue eyes and snow-white hair, you recognize him as your favorite Magical Girl, Satoru Gojo.

Magical Girl!Satoru is able to easily heal physical your injuries but noticed that you had been corrupted by the monsters super evil hypnosis beam! Oh no!

Worrying for your safety, he carries you into an evacuated apartment building and sets you down on one of the beds. He explained your situation and wanted to help you! And helping you just so happened to mean giving you two 'doses' of his purifying magical cum!

You were definitely not saying no to that NAH NAHHHH

Magical Girl!Satoru then guided you softly, lifting up his pretty pink skirt to reveal an equally pretty pink tip (which was already leaking because god knows the last time he was able to fuck) and gently tells you to suck it.

Trusting his words and not really wanting to risk the chance of becoming a part of that sludge monster, you put yourself to work despite your brain starting to go foggy. From sucking his stupidly long cock or from the corruption, you weren't sure.

Magical Girl!Satoru who let himself be just a bit meaner after seeing the glassy look in your eyes, cooing and mocking you for literally going stupid just from his cock alone. (yes, he knows its the effects of the corruption but he can't help but tease you)

He started using your head as a fleshlight- large hands in your hair, his voice condescending as he warned you not to choke on his dick too much, because he was already so close to giving you your first dose of his magical cum!

The second his warm load hit the back of your throat, you felt yourself snap a bit back to reality- Gagging as you swallowed his magical girl cum with obscene gulps.

Magical Girl!Satoru pulls you off with a groan, pupils blown out as he looks down at your spit-stained lips. You cough to the side and he pets your hair, telling you how well you did and that you're almost fully healed! Good job!!

With surprising ease, he flips you onto your back- Your vision blurring with how quickly he manhandled you into place. Magical Girl!Satoru coos at you, voice patronizing as he pulls your panties off and points out how soaked you already are.

Magical Girl!Satoru gives you some reassurance while giving your clit some loving pats- As if he were encouraging a dog. And if you thought your brain was clearing up, now you're damn sure it wasn't the second you felt him push his fat and pretty cock into you.

Tears prick at your eyes at the stretch, a mix of pain and pleasure as he kisses the tears away, telling you that it was only halfway in and that you could definitely take the rest of him like a big girl!! It was necessary to heal you after all!!

Eventually, he pushes his entire length into you, groaning at how warm and mushy your insides felt around him. He whines the second he bottoms out, complaining about how he wants to start moving already- before choking on his words pathetically when he felt you flutter around him.

Magical Girl!Satoru is pouting at you, begging you to let him start moving (so he can get rid of the corruption inside you, ofcourse!! You didn't forget about that, right?)

You nod weakly, brain already numbed by the 'corruption' and Magical Girl!Satoru's stupidly big cock inside of you. You would've loved to appreciate this sight more- if you could fully process anything other than feeling so so full- but Magical Girl!Satoru looked so pretty like this, hair slightly tousled and his usually pristine costume was loose around him, a little bit of grime from his previous fight with that sludge monster on his thigh highs.

Magical Girl!Satoru clicks his to tongue at your wordless approval, saying something about how he had to be quick lest the corruption melt your brain any further!! He grins as he starts moving in and out of you, the veins on his cock dragging deliciously on your walls.

You never thought that the famous Magical Girl would be a whiner, but he was just that. He couldn't help the sounds slipping from his lips as he tried his best to move at a somewhat reasonable pace :((( He was still being considerate of you adjusting to his size after all :(( You barely registered the cracking sound above you, the headboard getting crushed under Magical Girl!Satorus grip.

You could barely focus on anything else other than the feeling of his cock moving in and out of you- That warm coil in your tummy tighetening quickly despite the 'painfully slow' as Satoru would word it, pace that he was fucking you.

Magical Girl!Satoru bit his lip at how pretty you looked, gasping and shaking under him as he could practically feel you approaching your orgasm- He couldn't help it when his hand moved down to play with your clit as he sped up his pace, hips stuttering when he felt you pulse and flutter around him- effectively cumming around his length.

"Fuckfuckfuck-" Magical Girl!Satoru whined, barely in control of his own movements as he pounded into you faster, shockwaves of overstimulation moving up your spine and short circuiting your brain even more than the corruption could.

You unconsciously tried to crawl away, but it was no use when Magical Girl!Satoru grabbed your hips and pulled you down onto his cock over and over and over. Almost merciless as he was desperately apologizing and gasping your name. " 'm sorry, 'm sorry I c-cant stop fuck- 'm sorry,"

You couldn't do anything except moan and gasp under him, the overstimulation and mean pace pushing you further closer to the edge again.

Just when you thought it couldn't get any worse (or better), Magical Girl!Satoru grabbed your thighs and folded you into mean mating press, hitting your g-spot sooo good that you couldn't help but scream from how good it felt :((

"I know I know- 'm sorry, have to- have to make sure it takes," Magical Girl!Satoru reassured in between his own gasps. "To- ah, h-heal you ofcourse."

You couldn't help but whine at that, walls clenching around him as his hips stuttered and you could feel his warm, magical girl cum fill you up!! You could feel the throb of his cock with every pump of his release pouring into you, the obscene sounds of it echoing within the dimly lit room.

The pleasure was enough to make your mind go blank, and you were pretty sure you passed out for a few seconds.

With a final thrust, Magical Girl!Satoru let go of your legs and slumped on top of you- Sweat covered costume sticking onto your skin as his weight slowly grounded you to reality.

After a few moments of only labored breaths shared between the two of you, Magical Girl!Satoru finally spoke up. "Y-you're healed now!"

And yeah you were healed, but you were also pretty sure that your legs would be out of commission for at least a little while.

How this headcannon post lowkey turned into a full smut fic I don't know. All i know is that i was up at 3 am and horny 🙏

Want to read more prompts like this? Check this out!

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk scenarios #jjk smut #satoru gojo #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x reader smut #satoru gojo x reader smut #gojo smut #jujutsu kaisen gojo #gojo satoru x reader smut #satoru smut #gojo satoru smut #angels fics •°. *࿐

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caught-in-the-infinite · 2 days ago

Text

"You had sex with Bob?!"

John, Ava and Yelena are on the deck of Avengerz Tower. They are outside talking about - well, that didn't matter - they are talking about this now.

"Yeah," says John, reluctantly. "About six weeks ago."

"Six weeks!? Is that why he's been weird...er than usual?"

"No, yes, I don't know. I don't want to talk about this. Look, it happened, and it was not great, and here we are. I don't think he even remembers. He eyes went sort of - " John wiggles his fingers "- when he finished."

"Did you talk to him about it after?"

"Yeah, all he said was it was a 'crazy night' and then ran away from me. I'm pretty sure that means he doesn't want to talk to me about it. Or ever do it again. Which is fine by me."

"So are you gay now?" Ava asks.

"No."

"Bisexual then?"

"No. I'm straight."

"You just said you had sex with Bob."

"Yeah, and I don't think I need to adjust my sexual identity after ten minutes of mediocre love making."

"Love making," Ava snorts.

"Ten minutes," mocks Yelena.

"Mediocre?" says Bob.

"Hey...Bob, how long have you been there?"

"OK," Yelean says, taking charge - again. "You two should talk about this me and Ava will go inside now."

John and Bob both give her "don't leave me out here with him" looks but she ignores them and leaves with Ava.

They stand in silence for a mintue. And then a minute longer. Bob shuffles on his feet. John turns to look over the city.

"I'm sorry," John says. It seems the best place to start. "I shouldn't have. But we did, and it was not great. And now we're here. I miss being your friend, can we just go back to that?"

"It wasn't very good, was it?"

John, checking that the doors to the tower are closed and no one is lingering close enought to hear. "It was bad. It was just bad sex that we shouldn't have had. I didn't know what I was doing, you didn't know what you were doing, neither of us should have been trying to do anything."

"Oh, I know what to do. I just let you take the lead." Johns face does something at this revelation. "You seemed really keen, and I liked it when you kissed me up against the wall. And you seem to like it when I pushed you onto the bed. But then not so much for the rest of it?"

"How many men have you selpt with Bob?"

"Oh," Bob thinks for a moment. "You're probably the third straight guy I've had sex with." Johns face does something else while Bob is still thinking. "Fourth? Maybe?"

John wonders if he jumped of the tower if he would die if he hit the ground below. Instead he says the thing he actually has wanted to say for the past six weeks.

"Do you think we should try again?" John likes Bob, and he hates being bad at things.

Bob smiles, takes a step to press his side against Johns. "Depends," he shurgs, John can feel the movement. "How well can you take instruction?"

It's the fucking sexiest thing John has ever heard - and he'll examine that thought never. He turns to Bob. "Can I kiss you?"

Bob smiles and leans in.

The kiss is very good. John knows he's a very good kisser. He hopes to get very good at everything else.

#thunderbolts #voidwalker #sentryagent #bobjohn #cucumbertaco #john walk #bob reynolds #yelena belova #ava starr #no beta #fanfiction #this was fanfiction that had to be built around johns one line on ten minutes of mediocre love making #so appologise that no one else is in character #and part of me wants to make Bob float off becuase he's so happy he's with John #but another part of me says that the Sentry is Bobs mania #and wouldn't come out when he's happy #narriatively speaking #Sentry would come out when Bob and John are on their way to the bedroom and “bad guys” break in for “reasons”#and Bob is like not right now and just throws them all off the roof

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sebmindbreak · 1 day ago

Note

fluff oneshot of parlor gubby elliot and he's your husband I need this fatass PLEASE

YOU ASK , I DELIVER!

heres the context of this : its been a hot ass day , and so you decided to see your husband elliot , you knew he wasnt far away , due to how visible his ice cream truck was from afar , and so you foung him and he takes care of you!

idk abotu you guys

I CANT STAND HEAT AT ALL , like it feels like im melting...

like always , please tell me if theres any errors!

i alwyas reread myself , but a mistake might escape me!

TITLE : burning sun

The sun hangs heavy above the pavement, melting every thought in your head into a sluggish haze. Each step feels like dragging your feet through molasses, the thick heat curling around your limbs like invisible vines.

Even the wind has given up on trying to cool the world down. You're pretty sure your clothes have fused to your skin by now, clinging like a second, unwilling layer of your DAMN skin.

But then you spot it.

The familiar pastel striped ice cream truck parked just down the road, bright , yes finally , you thought you were going to turn into water at this rate! The cheerful jingle has long since stopped playing for the day, but the open service window promises sweet, lifesaving relief. More importantly, he's there.

Elliot.

Your husband, always looking like he stepped out of a dream with his

He's standing behind the counter, the soft fan inside the truck tousling the white fur along his collar and arm. That hat on his head sits slightly askew, and his smile so familiar and wide ,spreads across his face the moment he spots you. His eyes practically sparkle like sundaes under sunshine. You don’t even have the energy to smile back properly, just a worn-out squint and a sluggish wave.

"Whoa," Elliot whistles, leaning out the window with mock concern. "You look like you're about to melt right into the pavement. C'mere, baby."

Before you can respond or even roll your eyes, the side door of the truck slides open with a cheerful ding, and a strong pair of arms tug you inside with practiced ease.

The moment the door clicks shut behind you, you're swallowed by a welcome blast of cold air and the faint, sweet scent of vanilla, chocolate, and strawberry syrup. Your head lolls back with a relieved sigh as Elliot gently guides you to a padded seat near the mini freezer.

"I’ve been savin’ somethin’ special just for you," he coos, sliding a cup of soft serve into your hands. It's perfectly swirled, cool against your fingers, topped with a single red candy heart and a gentle dusting of rainbow sprinkles. "Only the best for you."

You barely register the taste at first, only the blessed cold on your tongue. The contrast makes your nerves shudder awake, reminding you you're alive. Elliot sits beside you, pulling you into his side, his apron soft against your cheek, his arms firm and cool around your overheated body.

He rests his chin atop your head with a small contented hum.

"Long day?" he asks, voice dropping into that sweet, familiar hush he reserves just for you.

You nod wordlessly into his chest. He laughs, low and soothing, the kind of sound that sinks right into your bones, his fingertips rubbing slow, comforting circles into your back.

"You should let me keep you in here all day," he murmurs with a grin. "Just you, me, this heat as been absolutle hell."

You smile against his neck (his fur must tickle tho), your whole body melting in a better way now. The heaviness of the day slips away, piece by piece, replaced with cold sweetness and warmth that has nothing to do with the sun.

Wrapped in his arms, the heat of the world fades into a dull hum, the rhythm of his breathing, and the lingering taste of cherry and vanilla on your tongue yum!

Outside, the sun still blazes, but in here, it’s nothing but soft smiles, cool comfort, and the love of the boy who always saves the sweetest things just for you.

Even if , snuggling against his furry neck didn't make the heat any better.

if not worst

I HOPE YOU ENJOYED

i really lvoe this skin too!!

not gonna lie , whne its hot wave , i eat ALOT of ice cream , bc liek damn bro...

#forsaken roblox #forsaken #forsaken x you #forsaken x reader #elliot forsaken #elliot x reader #skin #gubby

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theorphicangel · 1 day ago

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thinking about knight!reader and prince!gojo (this has the potential to be a long term fic but my drafts are so full wow)

being assigned to prince satoru is probably the worst thing in the world. you could be out fighting for your nation or putting criminals in jail but instead you're looking after a brat.

you're stubborn and in satoru's eyes you don't look like you've ever smiled a day in your life.

so he makes it his own personal job to annoy the shit out of you. he purposely makes your job harder for you, he's running off when he's not supposed to, leaving you to find him in a maze of a palace when there's a serious royal meeting. he attempts to trip you up before mocking that you're not as agile as a knight should be.

not to mention the ways that he tries to scare you every time you turn a corner. he has the ability to somehow hide his presence so that even you can't even sense it.

sure he makes your life hell, forcing you to chase after him and hold him back from devouring every sweet treat on royal grounds but he swears that you're softening up.

even if it is slowly.

he would never mention this in your presence but he has noticed the way you look at him when you think he doesn't notice.

particularly the night that his royal establishment were to hold a ball. Satoru was fussing with his hair in the mirror, doing little touch ups whilst in the top corner he could sense you looking at him. and was that admiration in your eyes? he'd have to catch you looking again to make sure.

all dressed in a formal royal suit, made to fit a future king he asks 'am I looking good my precious knight?'

for once you don't scold him or downplay his ego. for once you actually smile and speak in that rare sweet tone of yours. 'you look perfect, my prince.'

a flush of pink spreads across satoru's cheeks and he lets out a choke of a cough. 'perfect huh, never thought I would hear those words leave your mouth.'

'don't get too ahead of yourself, satoru.'

of course the two of you had gotten close enough where he allowed you to call him by his name. he never had an admiration for honorifics. (you only refer to his name in private.)

for the first time in forever you feel excited for a royal event. in the months leading up to it meticulous planning had occurred. even the prince himself had gotten stressed over the preparations, but now the night had come, you looked forward to the smooth sailing of the night.

until it's announced that Satoru is arranged to be married to a princess of a mutual nation.

he's just as shocked as you are, his family only now breaking the news to him. keeping his professional composure, he keeps a tight smile on his face. anything to keep the public calm.

as the announcement goes on, you tune out the words letting the disappointment sink in. your stomach practically drops and you're finding it hard to swallow.

if anything this is just a brutal reminder of your reality and the stupid idea of making your confession to satoru tonight. you had it all planned, when in private with him you would make known your feelings to him.

but his marriage announcement snapped you back into your place. which would always be beneath him. never equal.

you were nothing but a knight to him. his security. nothing more and nothing less.

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#jujutsu kaisen x reader #angel writes #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader fluff #satoru gojo x reader #gojou satoru x reader #jjk gojo #jujutsu gojo #gojo x reader #gojo saturo #jjk #jjk fanfic #jjk fluff #jjk headcanons #jjk x reader fluff

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sour-cherryyy · 1 day ago

Text

SNOWED IN. 〜Ni-ki

Pairing: Bf!Ni-ki x Gf!reader Summary: When a snowstorm cuts your date short, Ni-ki ends up spending the night at your apartment. What begins as innocent closeness quickly deepens into something far less innocent. Word count: 3.1k A/n: MDNI!! 18+ Smut & fluff. So nervous while writing this! It literally took everything in me to muster up the courage and post. There's like a whole long ass story before the spicy stuff bc I had to mentally prepare myself lol. But I hope you guys like it. (Requests are open) Now playing: UN Village By Beakhyun

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The door clicks shut behind you. You're both breathing hard from the sprint up the stairs with Ni-ki’s laughter still dancing through the warm, quiet hallway as he stamps the snow from his boots.

“Wow,” he says, brushing melting flakes from his shoulders. “That came out of nowhere.”

You nod, heart racing from the cold. Your cheeks sting, your fingers are numb, and there’s a giddy kind of buzz in your chest from the sudden change of plans. The storm rolled in quicker than anyone expected, and now, just like that, he’s in your apartment.

Ni-ki shakes out his jacket and glances around your apartment as he sees it for the first time. “It’s cute,” he says, his lips curving slightly, “Very you.”

You watch him, still by the door, arms wrapped around yourself like you’re unsure what to do now. You didn’t expect this. The night was supposed to end with a casual goodbye, maybe a second kiss in the car, a text an hour later.

Instead, he’s standing in your hallway, clearly staying.

“Oh,” you say, breaking the quiet. “Let me get you some dry clothes.”

He follows you toward your room, shedding his damp hoodie as he goes. You catch a glimpse of the shirt riding up beneath it a sneak peek of his v-line. You look away too quickly and bump into the dresser.

He chuckles behind you. “You okay?”

“I’m fine. Just, uh, didn’t expect the weather to turn into a whole blizzard.”

Ni-ki steps closer. Not too close, but enough that the space between you sharpens. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “I’m kind of an unexpected guest now, huh?”

“No.” you say firmly, trying to hide your nervousness.

You hand him an old sweatshirt- oversized, worn in- and avoid looking at him as he thanks you and changes right there, like it’s nothing.

“Why are you acting so shy?” He smiles as if he's done this a million times before.

He’s really comfortable. And although he hasn’t been in your apartment before,he has been in your orbit long enough to know how to move in your space.

You’re not used to that. Not used to someone this confident especially when you're dying inside.

Not looking up from the spot on the wall you’ve been eyeing, you answer. “I’m giving you some privacy.”

“Well, I'm done.” He tosses the damp clothes on the heater.

You blink, realizing you’re still in your (now slightly wet) outside clothes. “Right. I should change.”

Ni-ki catches the glance you throw toward your door and lifts his hands in mock surrender. “Okay, I’ll give you some space.”

He turns and disappears into the kitchen, leaving the soft sound of cabinets opening and the hum of your heater behind him. You move quickly, peeling off the damp layers and pull on a set of soft shorts and an oversized t-shirt with a faded mickey mouse across the front. Comfortable and somewhat safe.

Still, you hesitate before stepping out. You know it’s just sleepwear, but it feels different now. This isn’t just a solo night or a casual video call. Ni-ki is here. In person.

When you finally emerge, he’s crouched in front of your pantry, holding up a half-full bag of marshmallows with a hopeful expression.

He looks up.

And he freezes for just a second- nothing dramatic, just a blink too long, his eyes flicking down, then right back up to meet yours. His lips part slightly, like he was about to say something and forgot the words.

Then, with a lazy smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, he says, “cute.”, voice lower than usual.

You tilt your head in confusion. “It’s just pyjamas.”

“Hot chocolate?” he offers, changing the subject back to the marshmallows he's holding. “Or is this just a snack stash?”

You laugh, tension easing. “Help yourself. I’ll start the movie.”

He joins you on the couch a few minutes later, two mismatched mugs in hand and his eyes already scanning your small stack of DVDs.

“You seriously own It Takes Two on disc? You’re so old.” he says, settling in beside you with a blanket draped over his lap.

“It’s a classic,” you say defensively, scrolling to the input channel. “Mary-Kate and Ashley carried my childhood.”

He snorts. “No argument. Just surprised you didn’t go for something darker. Thought you were all ‘psychological thriller’ vibes.”

“That’s only on weekdays.”

You press play, and the familiar opening notes start up. The couch is small, and without really talking about it, you both end up under the same blanket, legs stretched out in the same direction. His feet brush yours occasionally, each touch sending a tiny jolt up your spine. You don’t move away.

The movie plays on- half commentary, half laughter, and full of those quiet glances when the other person isn’t looking.

At some point, you reach for your phone, curious how long the storm might last. You expect to see a few flurries and mild delays. Instead, your notifications are filled with alerts.

Heavy snowfall. Whiteout conditions. Road closures.

You sit up straighter.

Ni-ki leans over to peek at your phone. “That bad?”

You scroll again, confirming it. “Yeah. Looks like everything’s shut down for the night. Buses, Ubers... even walking would be dangerous. Were snowed in.”

He raises an eyebrow. “So, I’m not going anywhere, huh?”

You shake your head slowly. “Doesn’t look like it.”

He leans back, arms stretched behind his head, casual. “Well, that’s it then. Guess I’m your problem for the night.”

You glance over at him, heart doing something you don’t have a name for. The movie still plays in the background, the screen casting soft light across his face. He’s smiling- but it’s softer now.

And for some reason, you’re not nervous anymore.

You just smile back. “I’ve had worse problems.”

He tosses you a cushion in mock offense, but he’s still grinning, “Thanks for letting me crash.” he says, voice lower now, calmer. “I’ll take the couch.”

You shake your head gently. “You’re taller than the couch.”

He lifts a brow, half amused. “You think I don’t know how to fold myself in half? I’m very flexible.”

You have a hard time believing he’ll have a comfortable night your small couch. You can’t even sleep comfortably on your couch.

“Still,” you say, clearing your throat, “I’m not going to make you sleep out here. It's cold. The bed’s big enough.”

There’s a beat of silence.

He studies you- not just your face, but the way you say it. Your voice isn’t flirty. Just genuine and trusting. And somehow that makes the room feel warmer than the heater ever could.

“You sure?” he asks, voice gentler now.

You nod.

He smiles- soft, that rare kind of smile you’ve only seen once or twice when the world goes quiet around him. “Alright,” he says. “If you’re okay with it.”

You don’t make it a big deal. You both pretend it isn’t. He helps you lay out extra blankets, teases your pillow choices (“You really have one shaped like a peach?”), and the air feels lighter with each passing minute.

When you finally crawl under the covers, it’s both familiar and unfamiliar. You’ve cuddled before- on movie nights at his place, during slow evenings when neither of you wanted to say goodbye- but there’s something different about slipping under the sheets beside him. Just the two of you having nowhere else to be.

He settles beside you with easy grace, one arm tucked behind his head, the other resting lightly across his stomach. You lie on your side, facing him, watching how the soft glow of your lamp casts faint shadows along his jaw.

He turns to look at you. “You cold?”

You shake your head. “Not really.”

He shifts closer anyway, just a little, his arm brushing yours beneath the blanket. “Still feel like I should keep you warm,” he murmurs.

You don’t shy away. You don’t need to. Being this close feels like the most natural thing in the world.

“You always do,” you say quietly.

The corner of his mouth lifts. “That sounds like something someone would say in a movie.”

“Yeah, well. I’m not very original.”

He turns toward you fully now, his voice lower, more serious. “No. You’re just honest. That’s better.”

You lie there in the quiet, heartbeat a steady thrum against the pillow, and you wonder if he can feel it from here. If he knows what it’s like for you- how new this all is.

“You okay?” he asks softly.

You nod, but then you add, “I’ve never done this before.”

“Done what?” his eyes are set on yours.

You shrug, “Shared a bed with a boy.”

He chuckles and reaches up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingertips lingering against your cheek. “You don’t have to do anything,” he says. “We’re just sleeping. That’s all.”

“But what if I want to do something?” you ask, voice steady despite the rush in your chest.

He doesn’t pretend to misunderstand. His eyes search yours, thoughtful and kind, and for a moment, you expect him to pull back.

Instead, he pulls you even closer.

You slide easily into the space he makes for you. His hand finds the small of your back and the weight of it sends a flutter straight through your chest.

"Are you sure?" he murmurs, his voice low, like it’s meant only for you.

You nod, barely. “Yeah.”

And that’s all it takes.

He kisses you deeply. There’s a deliberateness to the way he moves, like he’s reading you in real time, learning what makes you lean in and what makes your fingers tug at the fabric of his borrowed sweatshirt. He takes the hint and slips out of it with ease.

In return, his hand trails up your side, beneath the hem of your own t-shirt, lingering, waiting, asking. You nod, sensing his hesitation and off it comes.

His lips crash back into yours as his hands roam your figure unapologetically. You exhale into the kiss, pressing in closer until there’s barely any space left between you. His leg shifts, and suddenly you’re straddling one of his thighs, the blanket slipping slightly as the heat between your bodies overtakes the chill from the cold outside.

You break the kiss with a small gasp, forehead pressed to his, catching your breath. One of his hands stay on your waist as the other travels up to your chest. His thumb proceeding to draw slow, absent circles against your nipple.

“Is this... okay?” he asks softly.

“God, yes!” you whisper eagerly.

You can't help but grind down on his thigh chasing for some sort of friction to ease the acing building at your core.

You lean in closer, your hands tracing the outline of his Adams apple and the curve of his neck. You press your lips to the spot just beneath his jaw, and he exhales like you’ve undone something in him.

Something shifts in his expression- like tension unravelling, like desire held back too long now flickering into something deeper.

“Good.” he says, voice rough.

And then he kisses you again- this time with a different kind of certainty. His hand leaving your breast and dragging down to trace the hem of your shorts before dipping in past your panties.

His slender fingers trace a line up your slit slowly feeling how soaked you've become.

He breathes out a shaky laugh, brushing his lips against your neck. “You’re so wet for me, baby” he says, low and honest.

He continues, drawing lazy slow circles against your clit, each one sending little waves of pleasure pulsing through your body. He watches your face closely as you close your eyes, as if he’s memorizing your every expression.

You bury your face in the crook of his neck, gripping the sheets at your side as your body melts into his touch. His other hand grips your thigh tensely, grounding you in the moment, anchoring you to him.

“Just like that?” he whispers, thumb brushing with barely-there pressure.

You shake your head, speaking before you can think. “Need. More.” you manage, voice breathless.

His eyes darken just slightly, not with surprise- but with intention.

Then, in one smooth movement, he flips you over. Your back meets the mattress with a soft bounce, and he follows you down, bracing himself with an arm beside your head. His face hovers just inches from yours, gaze locked onto yours, searching.

“You want more?” he asks, voice lower now almost like a growl.

You don’t answer with words. You just pull him down by the back of his neck and kiss him like you’ve been waiting forever to.

Its hungry, messy, and filled with desire. You feel his fingers skim over the bare skin of your hips, dragging down slowly like he’s trying to memorize the shape of you.

He hooks his fingers into the waistband of your shorts, eyes locked on yours, giving you just a breath of warning before he slides them down in one smooth motion without hesitation. The cool air brushes over your skin, leaving you exposed beneath him.

But he never looks away, appreciating your perfect body, taking it all in.

Then without skipping a beat he strips off the rest of his own clothes. Your eyes widen at the sight of him and the size his erect length.

“Woah,” you breathe, the word slipping out before you can stop it.

A low, amused smile curves at his lips. He leans in just slightly, his voice dipping into something playful and warm. “Yeah?”

You nod, still staring down at him, still adjusting to the new reality unfolding between you.

“Yeah,” you whisper. “Definitely.”

He looms over you, clearly thrilled at the ego boost you just gave him.

He rubs his tip against your clit, grinding into you, letting you feel him. The anticipation is almost enough to undo you.

You arch up into him, impatient, wordlessly conveying what you want.

You hold your breath as he pushes in, slow and careful, watching every change in your expression. It’s a stretch, a fullness that borders on too much, but just when you think it might overwhelm you, he stops. He stills, buried only halfway, breathing heavily against your ear.

“Is this okay?” he asks, his voice laced with tension, like it’s taking every ounce of control to hold back.

You exhale, the discomfort already melting away into something far sweeter. “More than okay,” you assure him. “Don’t stop.”

He groans softly, sounding more like relief than pleasure, then thrusts the rest of the way in.

You gasp, fingers digging into his back, overwhelmed by the sensation of him fully inside you. It’s something you couldn’t have imagined and yet somehow, it’s exactly what you want, what you need, what you’ve been waiting for.

He pauses, letting you adjust, letting you catch your breath. “God,” he murmurs, forehead resting against yours, “you’re so tight.”

You shift slightly beneath him, testing the limits of what you can take, and he swears under his breath. “Please,” you whimper.

He draws back, almost all the way out, then thrusts in again. The motion sends a shockwave through you, your body tightening around him instinctively, pulling him even deeper.

“Oh, fuck,” he groans, and this time he doesn’t stop.

He finds a rhythm that builds, each thrust more insistent, more certain. His hands grip your waist, fingers pressing into your skin, pulling you closer to meet him. It’s more than you’ve ever felt before, a pleasure so sharp all you can do is hold on and let him take you there.

The room around you disappears, the storm outside silenced, everything reduced to the sound of your rapid breathing and the steady, relentless slap of his hips against yours. You’re not sure how much longer you can last like this, every thrust tearing you apart and putting you back together, and Ni-ki seems to sense it.

He presses his face to your neck, teeth grazing lightly against your skin as he drives into you with increasing urgency. “Gonna make you come so hard,” he promises, voice almost desperate.

Your body is already responding, tension coiling tighter, tighter, until it’s all you can do to gasp his name.

He snakes a hand between your bodies, thumb finding your clit with shocking precision, and you’re done for. The coil snaps, the world shatters like glass, and you come so hard you might actually be crying, though you can’t tell for sure.

He’s right there with you. The sensation of you clenching around him drags him over the edge, a deep groan escaping as he pulses inside you.

He spills into you with a groan, his body shuddering against yours, warmth flooding you in hot, dizzying waves. He’s beautiful like this, you think dimly, and you cling to the thought as you hold on to him, riding out the last of it together.

In the aftermath, you both lie there, tangled in a mess of limbs and sheets, struggling to catch your breath. The world comes back into focus slowly- the quiet hum of the heater, the gentle patter of snow against the window, the steady beat of Ni-ki’s heart beating in rhythm with yours.

“Wow,” you whisper, still half-dazed, still wondering if you dreamed the whole thing.

He laughs softly, brushing a damp strand of hair off your forehead. “Wow,” he agrees, his fingers trailing lightly down your side, leaving a pleasant shiver in their wake.

You don’t know how long you stay like this, just holding each other, neither of you quite willing to move yet. Long enough for the sweat to cool on your skin, long enough for your breathing to even out, long enough for the reality of what just happened to sink in.

He shifts eventually, rolling onto his side, facing you fully. You match his movement, settling into the warmth of him, the steady rise and fall of his breathing lulling you into a blissful haze.

“Hey,” he murmurs.

“Mhm?”

“Why didn’t you let me watch you change earlier?”

“Huh?” you ask, recalling your previous interaction.

“I mean, I was going to see you naked anyways,” he teases.

You poke his side, feeling him squirm just slightly, a breathless chuckle escaping your lips. “Shut up.”

For some reason, writing about sex is way more nerve wracking than actually having sex. Also, if you haven't watched ‘It Takes Two’ idk what you're doing. pls go watch it rn. Best movie ever, literally. I think I may have watched it more than 20 times since I was 5. Comment and reblog if you enjoyed it. Thanks for making it to the end, -EL (masterlist)

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