#for fear of making him look like a sock

[simplytemonade]

When Obanai isn't hiding, he's pretty elegant

[slocumjoe]

I do love isadora but my last sole survivor....he just had a zest to him. that lil guy came to me in a period of my life where I was Somewhat Deranged and my boy jesse diederik pieter willem gustav stefan boswel just has so much nostalgia for me and so much weird shit. he was my lil bug. and ive killed him

[berryfairyluvr]

hihi I loved the zayne princess treatment post could you do a sylus one as well please 🥹💝💝💝💝💝💝💝💝💝💝💝💝💝💝💝💝💝💝

sylus and his princess (queen) treatment

pairings: bf!sylus x fem!reader

warnings: none really, maybe minor mentions of some memories

a/n: thank you for the love and the request xx hope you enjoy <3

With a high bounty on his head Sylus has many enemies. Now having you as his beloved partner in this dangerous life (and all the ones before and after) your life has taken priority over his own. Despite your stubborn tendencies, he always has eyes on you ensuring your safety.

He not so slyly suggests you stay at his place 99% of the time as an answer to any of your complaints claiming he has 'this and that' but really it’s to keep you close by.

You insist on waiting up for him after his many late night outings much to his opposition. The lamps dim lighting catching his eye through the window each time he returns to find you cutely tucked into yourself sound asleep on the plush couch. He’d chuckle quietly and scoop you into his arms carrying you bridal style down the dark hallways to the bedroom.

You often complained about the coldness of his marble flooring even in socks. He’s made sure to have his staff keep you slippers in your most visited rooms ever since.

You thought his shower was huge before? He had it expanded and added multiple shower heads. When you asked why, he responded with “Time is of the essence, now we can save it by showering together sweetie.”

He loves to accommodate you, adding a vanity to his bedroom, his and hers closet, shared armory access personalized just to your liking… The list goes on.

He’s discreetly possessive with his touches but it’s usually masked by his powerful demeanor. For instance, when the two of you are out he’s often guiding you on his arm or with his large hand splayed on the small of your back. At meals and meetings his hand finds its way to rest on your thigh.

He will not stand for any sign of disrespect towards you, those who haven’t learned that are met with something violently unpleasant. (Most times completely unbeknownst to you— Sylus makes sure you’re occupied)

You yap and he listens. Earnestly. And I mean undivided and devoted attention. He is so very fond of the way you light up like a child when speaking about your life.

His attention to detail is remarkable and he shows that in your everyday life. Whether it’s picking up on your favorite scent or noting what things make you relax more than others, he provides you with them as much as possible.

That travel magazine you’d been reading hadn’t gone unnoticed and to your surprise, he’d arranged for the two of you to escape reality and venture out for a vacation.

This man can compliment, and he can compliment goooood. He has no issue expressing his gratitude and respect for you through his words and oh boy is he good with his words.

Seeing you scared or fearful wounded him enough the first few times that it now melts him into a puddle at the first sign of worry from you.

this is his *please don’t be worried/upset* look

He doesn’t mind one bit helping you bathe and dress after a long day of work. He even brushes your hair.

Your words mean everything to him, he wants to hear it. (He praises you for it in return 🤭)

For all the excursions you often clung to him like a backpack atop his bike— he decided a spare motorcycle helmet just wouldn’t do for you anymore and had one made to match his.

His date at any and every auction, he revels in getting to flaunt you around all dolled up and on his arm. Some even say his demeanor changed since you began attending these events with him..

read zayne’s version here

requests open ❤︎

[nereidprinc3ss]

ghost in the machine

in which spencer reid coaxes reader out of an episode of extreme dissociation after a triggering therapy session

angst, fluff warnings/tags: established relationship, accidental mild injury, blood, unspecified trauma, but at the very least implied past emotional abuse, anxiety, reader has ptsd and is in #denial about it a/n: I'm hellaaaa chill sometimes I just lose hours of my day if I think about my childhood too hard

It’s normal for you to get home and immediately wash your hands—a habit you picked up from Spencer. So you walk through the door, and you close it, and you take off your shoes and you hang up your coat and he calls hey from the couch. 

You don’t respond. Or do you? You’re not sure. But you’re washing your hands, and then as you go to dry them, you notice your coffee mug from this morning, still sitting on the counter. 

I should wash that, you think, and so you pick it up and you take it back to the sink. 

Sink. Sink equals washing hands. 

You’re washing your hands again. 

What did you mean to do?

Dishes? Right. The mug is… gone, seemingly, but there’s a knife in the sink, too—you pick it up, and you’re about to rinse it off, and then it’s clattering from your hands. Somebody is pulling you back from the sink. 

Someone is saying your name a whole bunch of times. 

You turn, blinking, and there’s Spencer, glowing softly in the yellow light of the kitchen. 

He looks so concerned. He strokes your cheek but you feel it less than you seem to observe it from a distance. Says your name one more time, eyes softening a little. 

“What?” You murmur, as if in a trance. 

He blinks. 

“You dropped a mug. You’re bleeding.”

Well, that’s news to you. It seems like a preposterous claim, but you look down, and sure enough—that coffee mug which had disappeared from the sink is in pieces on the floor and the tile is smeared in red. 

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry? Are you okay?”

“I’m bleeding.”

His brows furrow. 

“Yes, I see that. Do you remember breaking the mug?”

The mug. Oh, yeah. Now that you think about it—yeah, you do remember dropping it. Watching it break into a hundred pieces. That noise, of dishes breaking and clattering—suddenly you inhale deeply. 

“I broke it,” you whisper. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry I broke it—”

The memory of the sound is cacophonous, deafening and completely inescapable. 

“Hey, hey. You’re okay. Nobody’s upset at you. It’s just a mug.”

But that doesn’t make it any easier to lower your shoulders from where they’ve tensed to your ears, because once a dish breaks, there’s always a second of terrible, tremulous silence, before it explodes and somebody is screaming, painting every wall in the house with their rage. You squeeze your eyes shut. I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry, you whisper, wordlessly, just as you did so many years ago. 

“It’s just a mug,” he says again like that will help. “I’m gonna clean it up, okay? It’s gonna be like it never even happened.”

And that does provide some comfort—the fanciful idea of undoing. Of closing your eyes against the something terrible and wishing it away like you’ve always done and having it actually be gone when you open them. Spencer must be magic. 

“I’m gonna clean it up, but I want to make sure your foot is okay first. Is that okay?”

You take a deep, shuddering sniffle and nod, but that warm fog is pouring down the corridors in your brain like smoke in a maze. It obscures everything. Your feelings. The pain. The fear, thank god. There must be shards in your foot. Spencer apologizes from below as he peels off your bloodied sock, where he’s pulling the first aid kid from under the sink and working on you, but you don’t feel the pain. You don’t feel anything except the pressure of the bandage around your foot as he stands. 

He says your name again. 

“Hm?”

You’re scaring him. That much is evident from the look on his face. You wish you could stop, but it’s like you’re in a dream again. The brief clarity that moment of panic had provided is gone. 

“Can we just—can we go sit down?” He asks, already putting a hand on your waist. Sure. Why not. He supports your weight as you hobble around the broken mess on the ground and all the way to the couch. Oh. It’s too soft. Too forgiving. You sink into it too deeply, like you’re being swallowed, or breathed into a pair of monstrous lungs. 

Spencer is crouching in front of you, pushing hair from your face. 

“What’s going on, baby?”

“Nothing,” you murmur. “I’m fine. I just… dropped… a mug.”

“You didn’t remember or notice that you dropped the mug until I pointed it out. You washed your hands twice. You were about to try and wash a knife without a sponge.”

“No, I’m just… I’m tired. It’s…”

You trail off again, any further attempt at a meager excuse walled off a thick swirling fog. It’s like you’re trying to walk but you can’t see more than a few feet ahead of you. You can hardly think, let alone speak. 

Spencer frowns deeper. 

“It’s what?”

You pause for a long time. 

“Um… Don’t remember.”

“You’re scaring me,” he whispers, and again you wonder why, only you can’t really wonder at the moment. “Did you hit your head? Where did you come from?”

“When?” You ask. 

“Just now. When you came home, where were you coming from?”

“Diane. I was, um—I was at therapy.”

“No stops on your way home?”

“No,” you say. You’re pretty sure. You actually have no memory of what happened between leaving Diane’s office and walking through the front door. 

“Did you feel okay before you started therapy?”

“… Yeah.”

“So this started after?”

“What?”

“Your inability to put a sentence together, honey. You’re really out of it.”

“Oh.” Your eyes sting. It feels like an insult. “‘M fine.”

He reaches up to cup your cheeks. 

“What did you and Diane talk about?” He asks gently, a little less anxiously, like he’s figured out what’s wrong with you. 

At this, your mouth goes dry. What was before swirling fog has become a hulking black wall of solid obsidian. There’s nothing. 

“Um…”

“Can you remember?”

Something hot traces the length of your cheek from your eye. 

“No,” you whisper, sounding utterly distraught. “No, I can’t remember. I can't remember anything.”

More tears are coming now. How could you forget? You’re trying so hard to remember. How did you even get home?

“Okay. That’s okay, angel. You don’t have to remember.”

“I’m sorry. Something’s… wrong…”

“Don’t be sorry. I think you just got really overwhelmed at therapy and now your brain is trying to protect you. Can you tell me what you’re feeling in your body?”

Your… your body?

Nothing. It feels like nothing. 

“Why don’t you try and take a deep breath? I’ll do it with you.” He brings your hand to his chest, and your finger twitches against the hard abalone button. His chest expands, and you try to do the same, letting the cool rush of air down your throat. The room spins. 

“Woah,” you mutter, suddenly hyper aware of your breathing. 

“Slow down. We’re okay. You’re safe.”

He leads you through a few more deep breaths and you manage to get to a place where they don’t feel so precarious and unsteady. Your head sparkles with fresh oxygen and everything is too much. After a moment you’re settling your elbows on your knees and burying your face in your hands. Spencer rubs soothing lines up and down the side of your legs. 

“How do you feel now?”

“Not good,” you whisper. “My foot hurts.”

He hums. 

“Technically I shouldn’t let you take Ibuprofen because it’s a blood thinner and you have an open wound, but I think it’ll be okay just this once. You okay if I go get some?”

You nod, rubbing at your eyes with your palms until you see stars. The brain fog hasn’t lifted, but it’s thinned considerably. 

He comes back a few moments later with two round pills and a glass of cold water. The shock of it in your hand zaps your brain and you almost drop it but Spencer seems to have anticipated this so he hadn’t let go of the glass yet. He administers the pills once your hand is steady and you take them, feeling the river of ice down your throat and into the pool of your stomach. It seems to travel outward, extending into every reach of your body, bringing the sensorial world back to the forefront of your consciousness. Spencer must notice the goosebumps because he’s unfolding a blanket and wrapping it around you tightly, before pulling you into his arms where he sits and tucking your head beneath his chin. You let your eyes flutter shut, embracing the warmth, the pressure, the soft fabric against your skin. 

“I don’t know what happened,” you murmur. “I don’t… feel right.”

“That’s okay. I know it feels scary, but nothing’s wrong. I think you maybe talked about something that’s really hard to talk about when you weren’t quite ready. Sometimes when that happens, your brain tries to protect you from perceived threats by dissociating. It makes thinking straight really difficult.”

You frown. 

“How did I… How’d I get home?”

He strokes your hair. 

“The parts of your brain responsible for procedural memory aren’t as impacted during episodes of dissociation. But it’s actually not uncommon for people who don’t have PTSD to forget their commutes. It’s called highway hypnosis.”

“I don’t… I don’t have PTSD,” you insist. When Spencer doesn’t answer for a long moment, only continues stroking your hair, you swallow. 

“We don’t have to talk about this right now, angel.”

“Okay,” you whisper, like a child too weary to argue. He kisses your head. 

“It might be good for you to take a nap,” Spencer says, like he can read your mind. “I bet you’re tired.”

“How’d you know?”

“Because I know everything,” he says simply—a line borrowed from you. “Here’s what we’re gonna do, okay? I’m gonna order from Tandoori, and you’ll fall asleep, and I’ll wake you up when it’s time to eat, and we can watch your show.”

You smile despite yourself. 

“So assertive.”

“I’m thinking I can get away with it right now.”

He’s only teasing. You cuddle closer. He holds you tighter. 

“I’m the boss. And I want Thai food.”

“There she is,” he murmurs, rubbing your back over the blanket. The warm saccharine sweetness of his tone dizzies you, muddles your mind more pleasantly this time. Your heart rate slows. Your breathing goes back on autopilot. The rise and fall of his chest rocks you like the sea. Just at the cusp of sleep, he whispers one more promise. Of safety. Of love. 

When you wake up, you’ve forgotten all about it. 

But there's pad Thai on the table, and the kitchen is devoid of blood or broken glass. 

[yanderenightmare]

Gojo Satoru & Geto Suguru

♡ TW: fear, prank, prank gone too far, dubcon-ish

♡ GN reader

“Haha, ‘Toru—nice try,” is all you say to the tall figure, having stood patiently in wait and perfectly positioned to do a jump scare with his silly store-bought Ghostface mask on.

You sigh and go back to your dealings, and he remains as if the gist isn’t up—ever-committed to the task as if you’re suddenly going to forget that it’s him. Like—of course, it’s him! Despite what the movies will have you believe, not a lot of guys have bodies like that.

If he was really committed to tricking you, he should have worn something baggier to hide his perfectly shredded chest. But no—he’s set on wearing his black muscle shirt—probably opting to make you both scared and horny at the same time.

You carry on with what you’d been doing—cleaning up the kitchen. “Oi, quit standing there already and come help me.”

He doesn’t. But that’s not unlike him—he’ll take any excuse not to do the dishes. And right now, the excuse is this dumb prank. But it’s your fault in any case—you’re the one that put him up to it by saying he’d never be able to get a rise out of you.

You sigh and scold yourself for being so short-sighted—should’ve kept my dumb mouth shut. Knowing him, he’s probably going to be this way all through October, the insufferable prick.

He still stands there. Silent. And still. Eerily unlike him. And almost, just almost, utterly unlike him.

But no—don’t be stupid! He’s the same height and the same build, for fuck’s sake! What are the odds of someone with the exact same measurements as your boyfriend breaking in right at the time he isn’t around in something so cliche and dumb as a Ghostface replica? No, it stinks of Satoru—it’s got his goofy antics written all over it.

You scoff again—a little winded this time, a little strained. You have to hand it to him—he is a little scary when he shuts up for this long.

“You can knock it off, Satoru. I know it’s you.” You face him again, hand on your hip, with a frown. 

You sigh again when he still doesn’t answer, insisting on his stupid tactic of psyching you out. And you’re getting pissed that it’s actually almost working.

“Ugh, you’re so stupid.” You start stomping over—aiming to rip that dumb thing off his head and point your death glare directly in his insufferable blue eyes—those insufferable blue eyes you’re actually starting to hope are under there more than knowing without a doubt are there for sure. 

“Tch—it’s insulting if you think some half-assed performance like this is gonna be enough to scare me. At least have the creativity to come up with something somewhat decent–”

You stop in your tracks halfway over. Hair is peaking out from under the mask. You hadn’t seen it from afar, matted against the black shirt he was wearing—but how could you? How could you when it’s not white hair?

You flinch backward. Stumbling. Assessing the dark, silken locks a second time before looking up at the mask again—that soulless white warped skull with pitch-black bottomless eyesockets.

You take another step back. Breath hitching in your throat when the figure takes a step as well—toward you.

Your heart flares. It’s not Satoru.

Eyes peeled, you feel the panic overthrow you in an instant—like a cold rush, reaching all the way into your bonemarrow, making it hard to move, hard to do much of anything without feeling vulnerable to what it might trigger.

But once the figure pulls his hand out from behind his back, brandishing a butcher’s knife that catches the light and glints in the air—you have no other choice but to run.

What a perfect fucking day to wear fuzzy fucking socks! Fucking October cold is going to be the reason you die—stabbed to death in your own house by some cringey Scream fanboy. No—this can’t be the end—not this way! Why isn’t Satoru home yet? Why can’t he ever be where you need him to be?

You make your way through the house—hoping to reach the door, but turning the corner has you slip and fall, and the intruder’s on you—knife raised, poised prettily in the air above your helpless body, clad in your tiny heart-print pj’s—like the perfect hot airhead in any slasher spoof.

You scream and squeeze your eyes shut, “No! No—please! Please! Satoru, help!”

And right as the knife is supposed to come down and puncture your chest, making it spurt out red until you finally bleed out, dead and gone, there’s a bang instead as two palms land flat on the floor on either side of your head.

Joined by a muffled voice, “Are yah scared yet?”

With your eyes wide open again, you look up at not one mask blocking out the ceiling light but two. And with all the pure alarm savaging your chest, you manage to let out a real horror-movie squeal—unlike a sound you’ve ever made before.

And then, of all things, there’s laughter—no, not laughter—straight cackling.

And—fortunately or unfortunately—you’re quite sure you recognize that sound.

The last one pulls off his mask, and you really can’t believe it—pretty porcelain face squished in amusement with tears of joy in the corner of his insufferable blue eyes.

That fucking bitch.

“You should have seen your face!” he chortles—downright heaves. But for all his handsome features, he truly must be the ugliest laugher there is. Or maybe it’s just that the bastard always laughs at your expense, and after one too many times, it’s left a bad taste in your mouth.

Still, you sigh, eyes closed in relief, “I hate you, ‘Toru. You took it way too far, you ass.”

“No, no, Satoru, help~” he ignores you and mocks in a high-pitched moan, showing not a sign of remorse—holding his hand over his stomach as he falls to the floor, struggling to leave room for breath between hooting and howling.

Your eyes go to the original perpetrator. “And you? You proud or what?”

The wearer pulls off its mask and is revealed to be none other than Satoru’s best friend—Geto.

Honestly, you should have fucking known...

“Sorry, hehe…”

You’re upset—you make that clear with your pout, giving him your best guilt-tripping look from where you rest beneath him.

But still, within, your heart eases at the sight of his kind face and that apologetic smile across it—ever thankful to see him and not the cold-blooded murderer you were convinced was going to kill you only a moment ago—even when pinned beneath him in a position that should be making Satoru jealous.

But your boyfriend couldn’t care less, it seems—too busy rolling on the floor and laughing out loud quite literally, even banging his fist against the wood. Prick.

“I’m gonna throw up–” you say as the nerves finally settle. “And when I’m done, I’m gonna kill you. Both of you.”

Geto seems to think that’s fair, still with that sheepish smile on his face, but Satoru is quick to interject—laughing fit over as he shakes his head, “Nuh-uh. You said if I manage to scare you once this Halloween, I’d get whatever I want.”

You swear he can be such a child sometimes.

Oh, who are you kidding? He’s always a child. It’s only surprising he’s managed to rope Geto into all this—a guy who’s usually so mature.

“I don’t remember saying that…” you sigh, laying the back of your hand atop your forehead, still calming your breaths and the pounding in your head—your body not yet caught up to the fact that it’s trepidation over impending death was all just some silly joke played on you by two idiots.

You can’t believe him—you can’t believe either of them.

“Fucking shit, Geto—I thought I was gonna die.”

He still hasn’t gotten off you—the look of worry on his face tells you he’s probably just wanting to stay close to make you feel safe. You appreciate it, though it’s a little awkward lying beneath him like this—it’s not exactly a position you share with just anyone…

“Honestly, I didn’t think it would work,” he says—eyes slim like always, in that charming way. “I always thought you were smarter than to fall for something this stupid.”

You pull a frown at that—taking it all back. He’s as childish and dumb as Satoru is. He’s just better at hiding it. 

“Oh, shut up—as if you wouldn’t scream if someone chased you down with a knife,” you grumble. “Now get off, you prick.”

You begin to lift yourself onto your elbows, yet despite the clear intention of getting up, Geto doesn’t budge to make it happen.

No, instead, he leans further in—fine-kempt raven hair slipping off his shoulders, falling with the same grace as a veil.

“I was told there’d be a prize for the one that got you to crack, and seeing as I’m the one that made that happen—I want it.”

You have to blink—blanched at the sudden demand.

Satoru, as well, a little stunned—looks wide-eyed at the two of you, upside down where he lies flat on his back, long limbs stretched out like a starfish.

“You what now?” both of you ask in unison.

Geto chuckles before repeating, “My prize. I want it. It’s only fair,” as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. 

Satoru rolls over onto his stomach to view you both the right way, pursing his lips in thought. “Hmm…” Hand on his chin as if it’s really something to deliberate when the dumbass very well knows what the two of you had bet on and how it very much isn’t a reward you can give to just anyone.

Yet, despite that. “Okay,” he agrees—as if it’s even up to him.

“Hold on now, wait a minute.” You intervene in the almost business-esque dealing they’d somehow held without you. "Not happening.”

“Why not?” they both ask, looking at you. 

And you can’t keep from gaping. The nerve.

Spluttering as you explain, “Because it’s—well, because it was a bet between me and my dumbass boyfriend, and it was very clear what the prize was gonna be, come winner or loser—so, sorry to break it to you, but there is no prize.”

But that doesn’t seem to deter Geto. “Oh, I think there is…” he all but purrs as he leans down further.

“Satoru already agreed. And you’re already on your back beneath me.”

His smile isn’t all so friendly anymore, and still… you can’t help but blush being caught beneath it, holding your breath with fear a little different from the one before but no different in how it makes your heart pound.

“So, if neither of you mind…" he grins slyly. "I think I’ll just take it.” 

♡ GOJO SATORU masterlist ♡ GETO SUGURU masterlist ♡ JUJUTSU KAISEN masterlist

[bi-writes]

I imagine that Johnny's "uncle" instincts are so strong that he would do anything for the MOB and Simon's kids, it doesn't matter that "the kids" are cats. Also i think Simon would have a talk with MOB (and Soap) along the lines "if something happens to me he is the person who would take care of you". ~ i spend to much time daydreaming about this fic

mail-order bride

johnny watches with a careful eye as simon disassembles his rifle. he's methodical about it, very careful. he has a clear desk in front of him, and every piece that comes out has a place on the surface, a special spot that it must go.

"ye called fer me, LT?" johnny asks, knocking on the door gently. simon nods, not looking up from where he's sitting. he motions to the chair in front of the desk, and johnny takes a seat, hooking his thumbs into his tact vest and spreading his legs as he sits there. "what do ye need?"

"'ave somethin' ta say," simon mutters. "'n i'm gonna say it, and y'r gonna keep quiet and not interrupt me. and when i finish, ya aren't gonna say anythin' about it. and we aren't gonna talk about it ever again. say ya understand me, sergeant."

johnny swallows, shuffling in his seat before nodding.

"aye," he says lowly. "roger tha'."

simon sniffs, picking up the barrel and using a microfiber cloth to rub it clean. he leans back in his chair, not meeting johnny's eyes.

"tha' last op got me thinkin'," simon mutters. "thinkin' a lot." he sighs, deep from his chest. "wot would happen to my girls. if somethin' were to happen to me."

johnny purses his lips, his palms getting a little clammy. but he doesn't speak, because he's been ordered not to.

"and if tha' happens," simon continues. "i don't want anyone else lookin' after them except for you, johnny."

their eyes meet finally, and johnny swallows hard. it's a long gaze, and they hold each other there for a few moments to get an understanding of one another, to speak without speaking.

johnny stands, shaking his head. it's hard for him to believe that simon could die. he's unkillable. he's ghost. he's a man too capable of staying alive, too good at crawling out of early graves, that he doesn't understand truly what it is he's seeing in his lieutenant right now.

the thing in his eyes, he's just never seen it before. it's fear.

"simon."

your greeting as he steps through the front door immediately makes his shoulders relax. you're in the living room in nothing but one of his old shirts, standing there with a big smile on your face. his eyes rake down your body, over your bare legs and socked feet. your smile is bright and contagious, and he drops his bag off as you come closer to him. as always, your hands find the hem of his skull mask and slip it up and over your head, and you giggle when he blushes as you look over his face.

"you're so handsome," you whisper, and he clicks his tongue, shaking his head. you lean up on your toes and kiss him warmly, smoothing your hands up his big arms and wrapping them around his neck. simon can't help himself; he slides his hands down your back and slips them up the hem of the shirt you wear, cupping your ass in both gloved hands and squeezing hard. you laugh into the kiss, pulling away slowly, meeting his eyes. he looks tired. he looks...sad. "simon...is everything okay?"

you swipe your thumbs under his eyes, smudging the eye-black there, and he just shrugs. he doesn't lie. it isn't okay, he isn't okay, and you kiss him again to say you're sorry, because you don't know if he would want to hear that.

"i, uhm...ordered a pizza," you say softly. "thought we could watch a really bad movie and eat gross."

simon smirks, leaning his forehead against yours.

"i'd like tha'."

as you're plating up greasy slices of pizza, simon passes a piece of paper to you. it's an index card with a phone number on it and an address. the address is far, really far, and you lick the sauce off your finger before looking up at him.

"what is this?" you ask, taking it from him.

"tha's johnny," simon murmurs. "if anythin' ever happens...if ya ever need me...'n i'm not 'ere--" you open your mouth to say something, but simon shushes you gently. "--if somethin' ever happens to me...you call johnny."

you purse your lips, meeting his eyes for just a second before looking back down at the card.

"nothing's gonna happen to you, simon--"

he cups your face in his hands, shaking his head. he's staring down at you, pleading, asking you to just do this for him, to just say yes, to not fight him on this one thing because he needs this.

you press the index card to your chest gently, nodding finally.

"yeah...okay..." you whisper. "i'll call him, simon. if something happens...i'll call him."

if something happens, if something happens, if something happens--

"simon," you whisper, grabbing his eyes again. he blinks, and you compose yourself when you see that glaze over his eyes, the slight shake of his bottom lip. you have never seen him this way. you have never seen him shake ever before. this was your husband. simon riley, made of nothing but dense rock and steel. but his thoughts are far away. his thoughts are somewhere else, seeing a scenario in his mind that you imagine may not be hard to think about, as if he's lived something like it himself.

the unknown. the despair. the aftermath.

the inevitable.

"simon."

your voice brings him back. he's back in the kitchen. he's back at home. he can hear the cats in the living room, the little bells on their collars ringing as they chase each other in little chaotic circles.

he's back with you. in his little bubble. he's praying to a god he doesn't believe in that it won't burst so easily.

"dont worry, simon. i'll...i promise i'll call."

[hoffmansgirl]

agora hills. ━ dr. charlie mayhew

author's note. i can't get doctor charlie out of my head... i fear it's an obsession atp :(( hope u enjoy !!! requests are open ♡

warnings. minors dni. 18+ ━ pure smut; public sex!! grinding, oral (m!receiving), blood kink if you squint?, praise, degrading, use of "slut" + "whore", unprotected piv, overstimulation, spanking, choking, mentions of getting caught. wc: 1724 .𖥔 ݁ ˖

"charlie, we can't", you whined, but he didn't seem to hear you, or pretended not to; his lips already on your neck, pressing wet kisses on every inch of skin he could reach.

you knew better than to visit charlie during his night shifts. but it became so addicting ━ his recklessness fascinating and arousing, to the point where you didn't care anymore.

you looked at lois tryon, the poor woman in a coma ━ completely unaware of what was going on in her room every single night. her breathing steady, unlike yours, when charlie's hands glided down your thighs, lingering just above your knee high socks. his prominent bulge pressed against your ass, and you moaned.

"charlie, we have to stop", your voice unconvincing as you shifted on his lap, arching your back into the air as he purred softly. he exposed your upper thighs moving his rough hands upwards, his delicate touch lingering at your hips, waist and stomach.

"why lie, now?" he whispered in your ear, gripping your breasts through your shirt; your head fell back against his shoulder in response. "you fucking love it. you love the thought of someone coming in and catching us, don't you?", his question rhetorical, as he already knew the answer.

in the blink of an eye, he ripped your shirt open. you gasped at the sudden sensation of your bare skin exposed to the cold air, the sound of buttons falling on the floor embarrassingly loud. charlie's lips were on your collarbone in an instant, nothing delicate about his touch anymore as he bit your delicate skin, humming at the taste of your blood coating his tongue. he lapped at the wound, and you gripped his thighs, unable to control the moan that left your mouth. charlie's hands found their place on your boobs, covered with a black, lacy bra; your nipples hardened in an instant as he squeezed your soft skin. you tried to speak, but every single thought left your head when he lapped at your sensitive skin, bulge pressing against your ass, hips bucking slightly just to feel you more.

you turned your head to see him, and his lips found yours, moving you so that you straddled his lap. you grounded yourself against his cock; your hands finding his hair almost instantly, tugging at them, eager to get a reaction from him.

and you did. he groaned and bit your bottom lip, lifting your skirt to hold your ass in his hands, fingers digging into your skin, urging your hips to move against him.

charlie swallowed your moans as his tongue found yours; a battle of dominance which ━ as always ━ he won. your pussy throbbed against his cock, legs shaking from the intense pressure, and you pulled away from the kiss, breathless. your trembling hands already unbuttoning his shirt; the feeling of his defined chest under your fingers making you moan softly.

charlie was quick to attack your throat with his mouth, licking every inch of skin he could reach, and your head turned to look at lois.

charlie smirked, massaging your left asscheek before his palm landed on your ass in a spank. you cried out, pressing yourself against him more, unable to look away from the open door, the thrill of it all making your head spin.

"you like the thought of being caught, don't you? you're practically soaking my pants, fuck", he groaned, one arm wrapping around your waist. you were unable to speak, eyes rolling back, the friction of his pants against your soaked clit delicious. then he spanked you again, again, and again, mouth leaving marks all over your neck, and you were unable to keep yourself up anymore. eyes rolling back, the pain on your backside causing your eyes to water.

"shut up", he hissed as you cried out again, way too loud for his liking. "shut the fuck up, you slut".

in an instant, and before you could react, you were on the floor, and your eyes widened in embarrassment at the sight of his wet pants. he didn't seem to care, though, already tugging at his pants, pulling them down along with his boxers, enough to free his cock.

you licked your lips at the sight of him; leaking, angry red, and incredibly tempting. you knew what he wanted, your eyes scanning the room one last time before taking him in hungrily.

your tongue swirled around his tip, the salty taste of him making you moan around him softly. you knew it wasn't the right time and place to tease him; but you were unable to help yourself from lowering your head, tongue tracing against every vein on his shaft. charlie's hands found your hair, pulling tightly, guiding you to take his cock in your mouth; breathless moan erupting from his throat at the sight before him.

"stop fucking teasing and get to work", he groaned as he forced you on his cock, pushing you down until your nose met the skin of his lower stomach. he had trained you well; you didn't even flinch when he touched the back of your throat, eyes meeting his instantly, the ache between your legs unbearable. you pressed your tongue against the underside of his cock, your hands finding his chest, nails digging into his skin.

he looked so good; red tie loose around his neck, shirt hanging off his shoulders, chest heaving with sharp breaths. mouth slightly open as he watched you, the dim lightning making his eyes look even darker than usual. he tugged at your hair again when you met his eyes, his hips bucking into your face sharply.

"god, you are such a fucking slut", he groaned breathlessly. "what would my colleagues think if they saw you right now?" you moaned around him in response, keeping yourself still as his hips bucked into your mouth again and again. "oh, you would absolutely fucking love it. you're desperate for my fucking cock, wanna feel me inside, don't you?", you tried to nod as he forced his cock into your mouth for the last time, tears streaming down your face, before he moved you off him in one swift movement.

"take it off", he pointed to your underwear, and you obeyed, getting up from the floor, legs shaking slightly. you took deep breaths, unclasping your bra as fast as you could with trembling hands. charlie didn't seem to like your tempo as he tugged at the waistband of your panties, pulling them down your legs.

your heart stopped when you heard quiet voices from afar. charlie smirked knowingly, forcing you down onto the little couch, pressing his palm flat against your lower back. you tried to stop him, knowing that someone could come in any second; the voices became louder, and when they were right next to the room you two were in, you felt charlie's cock press against your opening.

you turned your head, but your voice died at the sight of him; a filthy, open-mouthed smirk playing on his lips, chest glistening with sweat, once neatly done hair now falling on his forehead messily. you bit your lip as he took his tie off expertly, the voices in the corridor becoming inaudible as you shook with anticipation.

"keep fucking quiet", he mumbled, pressing a hand against your head, forcing you down. his tip teased your swollen clit, and you hissed at the stimulation, pressing your face into the couch to conceal the sounds.

when he finally entered you, it was rough and careless. you wanted to cry out so badly, the pain and pleasure mixing deliciously. you looked at the hospital bed again as charlie pulled you towards him, chest pressing against your back tightly.

"see that, baby?" he asked lowly, looking at lois, his hips grinding against your ass, and you let out a shaky breath in response. "what would the poor woman think if she saw you like this? all fucked up for me, letting me ruin you every single night". you could feel him throb inside you, one of his hands finding place on your throat as he forced his cock inside of you once again.

"you're such a whore", he groaned again when you clenched around him, not being able to breathe as his hand on your throat tightened, cutting your airflow. "letting me fuck you here, where everyone could see us. does this fucking turn you on?".

you fell down against the couch yet again when he let go of your throat, grabbing your hips as he started to move.

his speed was brutal and reckless, a groan leaving his mouth every now and then as he bottomed out just to slam into your abused cunt once again.

you moaned, unable to speak as you felt the familiar warmth spreading in your stomach, your hands grabbing at any part of him they could reach.

you gasped when he turned you over, not wasting any second before thrusting into you again. his hand found its place on your clit, rubbing it in slow circles, and you swore you could see stars. you wrapped your legs around his hips, the slight change of angle making your head spin.

"i'm close, fuck", you whined, and he smirked, leaning down to kiss you, shoving his tongue down your throat, obscene sounds leaving his mouth at the taste of himself on your lips.

"cum on my cock, baby. show me how good it feels", he thrusted even faster, his tip kissing your g spot with every move of his hips. he reached down to press his mouth against your breast, tongue darting out to flick over your sensitive nipple, and the coil in your stomach snapped at the stimulation.

you cried out, loud, before your head fell back against the couch, your orgasm washing over you. charlie hissed at the sudden tightness of your cunt, slowing his movements, letting you ride down your orgasm. you were breathless and pretty sure you passed out for a second; when you opened your eyes, charlie smirked, putting your legs over his shoulders, his thrusts slow but deep.

"charlie, 's too much", you whined at the overstimulation, your juices coating his cock fully; making it easy for him to move in and out of you.

"come on, don't be a fucking crybaby", he groaned, slapping your thigh roughly. "i'm not done with you yet".

hoffmansgirl 2024 © nicholas a. chavez masterlist ᥫ᭡

[augustinewrites]

cw: pregnancy

“when you said we were sneaking out to go for a ride, i didn't think you meant that,” you sigh, breathless but content as you slump against your husband’s chest.

“deep breaths, darling,” diluc encourages, fingertips brushing down your spine. it makes him think of before, of juvenile fumbling and embarrassment. he’s much less chaste now. confident in his touches and his ability to please you. “why let the horses have all the fun?”

“you’ve been spending too much time with kaeya,” you grumble.

“i agree. it’s why i had to sneak away from his party with you.”

“your party,” you correct, letting him twine your fingers with yours. just like he had earlier, when he’d convinced you to sneak out of the surprise birthday party thrown in his honour. “the guests are likely looking for you.”

diluc’s used to being the center of attention. he doesn't necessarily enjoy it, but his day-to-day is filled with employees searching for his signature or potential clients seeking his participation on new ventures. as the king of the wine industry, he’s possibly the most in-demand person in mondstadt.

but their attention is nothing compared to yours. you’re his favourite person.

“you didn't even make it to the cake,” you add, shifting in his lap. “which means they'll be looking for us soon.”

he brings your hand to his lips, placing a soft kiss upon your knuckles and making your heart flutter. “i've already had dessert.”

your face warms considerably against his skin as he chuckles, releasing your hand in favour of slowly smoothing his palm down your side, resting on your hip. he’s more than content to abandon his birthday party entirely in favour of being here in bed, watching the sunset over the fields of your home and bathing you both in golden light.

“well, it’s your birthday party,” you say softly. “even if your actual birthday is two days away, i still want you to have everything you could possibly want. and if what you want is to sneak away from your party to bed me so thoroughly, who am i to argue?”

his heart starts to thump so loudly in his chest that he fears you can hear it. he does want something else, an answer to a question that’s been stifled by shyness, fear, and uncertainty.

“and if i wanted…something else?”

your fingers trace idle patterns across his arm as you hum. “i’d do my best to give it to you.”

he knows you would. which is why he’s been waiting, making sure you want this just as much as he does.

“kaeya said something to me earlier,” he starts.

“please tell me this doesn't end with you hitting him.”

“of course not.” well, not this time. “he asked when i would make him an uncle.”

your movements pause, and diluc wonders if he'd messed up, if it was too soon–

you sit up immediately, grasping his shoulders. “he told you i was pregnant, didn't he? i knew adelaide wouldn't be able to keep it a secret. she’s been knitting baby socks since last week.”

wait.

wait.

“you’re–”

“i wanted it to be a surprise,” you deflate, a frown tugging on your pretty lips. “on your real birthday. adelinde was the only one i told, only because she’d caught me throwing up in the rose bush she’d just pruned and insisted i get checked…”

diluc’s hardly hearing you, your rambling slowing to a stop as he holds your face in his hands.

he needs to hear you say it.

“we’re having a baby?”

you place your hands atop his, nodding. “we’re having a baby, diluc.”

he presses his lips against yours, one firm kiss before he rests his forehead against yours. you are and will always be his favourite person, the only one who could give him a gift as special as this.

_____

BONUS:

“lavender bisque. whispering peach. sweet potato surprise…” adelinde murmurs, hunched over a few sheets of paper.

“what is that? is that the menu for tomorrow’s party?” kaeya asks, peeking over her shoulder.

adelinde sighs, shaking her head. “they're sample colours i had sent over for the nursery.”

“nursery?”

“yes–” the colour drains from the poor woman’s face as she realizes her slip. “oh dear!”

the realization takes a few moments to sink into the cavalry captain’s “my brother had sex?!”

for @mydiluc aka mrs diluc ragnvindr for listening to my endless rambles...and also diluc bday fic!!!

[yuiiiriii]

synopsis : after a traumatic event, Jay, a complete stranger, has only did anything but comfort you. From the night you guys met, it was only humane to fall for one another.

includes : 5.9k words, strangers to lovers, undergroundfighter!jay x reader, smut! (mdni), teasing jay, f!oral receiving, possessive and jealous jay:3

warnings : assault, harassment, overthinking, miscommunication

The streets of Seoul were cold like no other. Approaching winter, it was only obvious. Yet you still forgot to pack a jacket. So you clutch yourself and your bag as you walk down the late night streets. Work was tiring as always and you wanted nothing more but to succumb to your bed.

As you walked your familiar route you always winced at a specific dark alley, it always made you uneasy. You find yourself almost past it when you’re being tugged harshly by your wrist. The lamppost only growing smaller as your tugged into the alley. Your fight or flight mode comes on and you scream. Pushing, punching, kicking, anything you could to get this random guy off of you.

He pins you to the wall, his big hand clasping over your mouth and nose, closing your airways. Your hyperventilating, sobbing, tugging at this guys arm. But he’s just too strong and as you’re still fighting, you slowly feel yourself slipping away. Vision going blurry as a tear runs down your cheek.

Jay leaves the convenience store with a bag in his hand. It’s late, yes, but it’s somehow still busy. So he pulls his hood up, hiding the cuts and bruises that litter his face and lips. He opens his bag of chips, popping one in his mouth. As he gazes at the cars passing by his body freezes and body chills when he hears a scream. His head shoots towards the dark alley and without a thought he’s sprinting in, dropping his bag.

He doesn’t even have to go that far when he sees you struggling. His eyes widen, the pure fear in your eyes. He retracts his hand, clenching his fist, he socks the man in the face. You fall to the ground, choking and gasping for air.

When you look to the side you see a guy on top of the man, beating him to a pulp. You pull your legs to your chest, shaking like a leaf. Jay pants, giving one last kick to the guy, he turns to you, his brows immediately pulling together. He kneels in front of you.

“Hey, let’s go back in to the city okay?” He says softly, lightly grabbing the sides of your arms and lifting you up.

He leads you to a bench, back into the streets. He stares at you worriedly and your gaze is so far off. Your cheeks have a little bruising, making Jay clench his fist. Your eyes are a little wide, tears still lacing them, and your breaths still ragged. You’re shivering so he doesn’t waste a second in unzipping his sweater, putting it around you.

That seems to snap you out of it and you stare up at him. You blink down at your wrists, noticing they were marked from how hard the guy held them. You begin to cry again, rubbing at your wrists harshly. Jay kneels down again, quickly grabbing your hands.

“Hey it’s okay, you’re okay.” He whispers, you glance into his eyes and they look so sincere. You notice a cut on his cheek and you gasp.

“Oh no, you’re hurt.” You whisper, your hand coming up to glide along it. Jay’s eyes widen a bit but he smiles regardless.

“I’m totally fine, let’s worry about you yeah?” His lips pull together in a small smile. You nod, staring at his hands still clasped in yours.

It’s a little odd how you’re very touchy with this guy, he’s a complete stranger. But there’s something so comforting and soothing about him, maybe it’s because he just saved your life but you think it’s more than that.

“Were you…walking home?” He sits down next to you, you hum. He pouts and you let out a giggle.

“I know. Stupid right? I just didn’t think I’d be out of work so late and I live really close by so…” You drift off, Jay does his best to keep you distracted.

“Oh, did you want a ride?” He immediately sputters.

“Uh, I mean, maybe I could walk you home?” He didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable in any way and he was pretty sure getting into a strangers car was the last thing you wanted.

“Sure.” You smile, the both of you falling into step with each other.

“So do you always work late?” He breaks the silence, in no way was it awkward but he’d be lying if he didn’t want to get to know you more.

“Kinda? I don’t know stuff at the office has been more demanding lately. So I have to stay overtime.” You pout and he smiles, only because you look so adorable.

You reach the gate to your apartment and turn around to him. He seems to be pondering and you perk up.

“Oh! Your sweater!” You move to take it off but he stops you, sliding the fabric over you once again and zipping it up.

“It’s cold. Just keep it.” He smiles and you open your mouth to protest but he stops you.

“Would you want me to walk you home from work?” You blink, you were already home.

“You mean like…for the next time?” You tilt your head and he laughs.

“Yea, for the next time.” You quickly raise your hands.

“You really don’t need to! You’ve helped me so much already.” You play with the string from his sweater.

“Well, to be honest, I don’t know if I’d be happy with myself if you weren’t safe.” He mumbles, a faint blush on his cheeks. Yours resembling his now.

“Ok then.” You quip, smiling at the ground. He hands you his phone and you type in your number.

“Your names pretty.” He smiles and you laugh.

“Thanks…”

“Jay. It’s Jay.” He laughs.

“Right.”

As you were about to bid him goodbye, loud tires screeching is heard behind him, the both of you turning to the culprit.

“Jay! Where the fuck have you been! I’ve been calling-” Heeseung shuts up at the sight of you, making his lips curl in a teasing smirk.

“Oh? So this what you’ve been ignoring me for?”

Jay pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Hold on.” He murmurs to you.

You stand there blinking as Jay talks to the guy, you’re assuming they’re pretty close. He then sends you an apologetic look, waiting patiently as Jay walks back to you.

“So I guess I’ll see you when you get off work?” He smiles down at you and you nod.

“Yea. I’ll text you.” You smile.

“Take care okay? Only a call away.” He smiles, getting into the car.

You laugh bidding him goodbye as Heeseung speeds away.

Jay rests on his bed, fresh out of the shower. It’s been a week and he hasn’t gotten a text from you. Now he knows he shouldn’t pry or bug you, you have a life and so does he.

Maybe you just decided you didn’t want his help anymore. But still. Jay can’t help himself, so he shoots you a text.

Jay

Haven’t been working late?

He bites his lip.

Really Jay? That’s all you could think of?

He sighs, tossing his phone on the bed as he finishes drying his hair. That is until he gets a ping, his eyes gazing at his phone. He picks it up and smiles at the sight of your name on his screen.

Y/n:)

Haven’t worked this whole week lol.

I asked for time off

Because yk…

Jay frowns, the thought of you still scared that you didn’t even wanna go to work aches him. He wanted nothing more than to protect you, at least by his side he’d always make sure you were safe.

Jay

I understand

I hope you’ve been well:)

Y/n:)

I have been thank you Jay

I hope your week is going well

He sighs, if only it were that easy. He’s been packed with fights on fights. Heeseung has had him booked to the brim, trying to earn that ‘fast cash’ as he’d say.

He rolls his eyes at the thought. He gazes down at his hands, the cuts and bruises that litter them. The small cut on his cheek that’s almost done healing. The two of you send a few more texts and that was pretty much it. However you roam his mind all of the time. Your smile, your cute flushed face, your laugh, your voice.

So Jay is only ecstatic when you send him a text, letting him know you had went to work today. He throws on a t shirt and some baggy black jeans, pairing it with a black jacket.

He looks at himself in the mirror, fixing his hair and spraying a bit of cologne. As he walks to the living room to grab his shoes, Heeseung stares at him with confused eyes.

“What are you wearing? Where’re you going?” He says standing in front of him.

“Gotta pick up Y/n.” Jay says lightly, finishing his other shoe.

“The fight?!” Heeseung yells in disbelief.

“I said I wasn��t fighting tonight. Figure it out.” Jay grunts, clearly irritated. Heeseung crosses his arms.

“You gotta, there’s a lot of money. I’ll pick you up when you’re done walking her home.”

Jay doesn’t say a word but slam the door behind him. He huffs as he makes his way over to you. He feels undressed when he stands next to you.

You’re in slacks, a button up, with your trench coat draped over your shoulders, a scarf wrapped around you, your heels clanking on the floor.

He’s at a loss for words.

God you were so pretty and even prettier when you shoot him a smile, waving at him.

“Hey.” You say a little too giddily.

“Hi Y/n.” He smiles, standing in front of you.

“Oh! Your sweater. I washed it for you.” You hand it over to him and he gives you a heartwarming smile.

“You didn’t have to you know?”

“I know. I wanted to.” You stuff your hands in your pocket.

He smiles, throwing it over his shoulder. Jay stands close to you as you both walk, which brings you comfort, you know it’s just his presence though.

“You’re all dressed up. You going somewhere tonight?” You grin, playfully teasing him.

Jay flushes, he would admit that he did try with his appearance tonight, even if he is just walking you home. He needed to get a grip.

“Uh, you could say that.” He scratches at his jaw. You chew your lip, not being able to resist the guilt of possibly holding him back.

“You know Jay if you were busy you didn’t have to walk me home. Even though I appreciate it.” You send him a nervous smile and he quickly shuts you down.

“N-No! I don’t necessarily have plans. I just wanted to look nice.”

For you.

He’d like to add but he fears it might be too early for that.

You hum, readjusting your bag. He catches this and swiftly pulls it off you, slinging it around him. When you look at him to say something he just sends you a smile.

The two of you are red in the cheeks but you’d both just blame it on the cold weather. His heart pangs when your apartment comes into view. Hating how shortly lived your guys talks and walks were.

“Well, this is my stop.” You turn to him and he hands you your bag.

You noticed how red his nose has gotten and you laugh, making him blink in confusion. You unwrap your scarf, placing it over Jay’s neck, his breath hitching.

“There.” You pat it down, your hands sliding off his chest.

“It’s getting colder Jay, make sure to cover up.” He laughs, shaking his head in amusement.

“You’re to cute.” He says before he can even stop himself. You both freeze, staring at each other wide eyed.

“Uh, sorry, it just slipped.” He laughs dryly, running a hand through his hair. You laugh it off, not ignoring how it made your heart skip a beat.

“I was gonna ask, maybe if you’re not too busy after work we could grab something to eat? On me of course.” You hum, nodding up at him.

“I’d love that Jay.” He hums, hands in his pocket as he watches you reach the gate.

“Have a goodnight and get home safe.” You narrow your eyes at him and he laughs.

“I will, goodnight.”

Almost as if on cue, Heeseung is pulling up next to him, rolling down his window.

“Come on! We don’t have much time!”

Even though you’re inside, you pause a little watching them interact. Heeseung throws him a tank top and Jay quickly takes off jacket and shirt.

Your eyes bulge out of your skull.

He was so toned and lean. His biceps perfectly sculpted and his back muscles. Don’t get started on his abs. You hurriedly turn around rushing up to your apartment. After he slides on the tank top, he’s closing the car door shut.

“So have you kissed her yet?” Heeseung cheekily says and Jay groans.

“Shut up and drive man.”

You and Jay’s little walks became a routine and ultimately, something you looked forward after your harsh work. Jay did end up taking you out for dinner the next day and now you guys try something new every single time you go out to eat. It became something you both enjoyed.

Especially for Jay, after rough matches and knowing a belt fight was awaiting him. Being with you always seemed to keep him at bay.

You’re on your break when a coworker of yours comes up to you. Nelly. She was nice but also nosey.

“Hey girl, you didn’t tell me you had such a hot boyfriend!” She exclaims and you almost choke on your drink.

“W-What?”

“Yea! The guy that’s been walking you home for what? More than a month?” You’re flushed and she grins.

“Does he have any hot friends too? Set me up!” She pats the wall of your cubicle.

“We’re not dating Nelly. But sure I’ll ask him.” You mutter and she barks back a dragged out thank you. You laugh to yourself pulling out your phone and sent a couple texts to Jay.

Y/n ❤️

omg my coworker has been spying on us

not actually lol but she mentioned you always walking me

and also mentioned if you have any hot friends

anyways gotta get back to work, see you after Jay:)

Jay spits out a wad of blood, cringing at the cold water that’s being poured over him.

“Come on man, this guy ain’t any different, you got him.” Heeseung says, his words of encouragement to lock in Jay’s position for the belt fight.

Jay had been training for weeks upon weeks. There was no way Heeseung would let him lose now.

With a ding, both fighters are meeting up in the middle of the ring, circling one another. Few punches are thrown, which Jay dodges with expertise. Jay lands a damaging liver shot, causing the fighter to falter. Jay’s eyes glimmer with fire upon seeing an opening.

With a faint jab he’s knocking his opponent out with his signature right hook. The crowd roars as Jay smiles, the arena screaming his name. In the locker room, Jay dries his hair from the shower.

“My man!” Heeseung laughs, slapping him right on the back, Jay winces and Heeseung mumbles a small sorry.

“You’re a money maker you know that? We’ll probably be millionaires when you win that belt fight.” He laughs and Jay shakes his head, a small smile lacing his features.

“I’ll see you at the apartment, gotta get Y/n.” Heeseung eyes widen a little.

“Uh Jay?” He turns to him.

“It’s not too late?”

Jay freezes, ripping out his phone from his pocket, seeing missed texts and missed calls from you, he curses, sprinting out the doors. If Jay had calmed down and maybe stopped to think he would’ve asked Heeseung to give him a ride. Yet of course he didn’t, and he’s sprinting to your job.

Coincidentally, your work wasn’t far from the underground gym he fights at but still he was tired from the performance he just put up. When he arrives at the front of your job, he calls you, panting.

“Y/n, Hey! I’m sorry I’m late—” He says rushed out but you interrupt him.

“Jay, it’s okay. My friend gave me a ride home. My house is on the way to his anyways.”

His?

It doesn’t sit right with Jay, as a matter of fact it irks him. Jealousy bubbles in his chest and he can’t resist the way his tone changes.

“Oh, did he get you something to eat?” He taps his phone, his jaw clenched.

“Yea, we went out.” He grips his phone tighter, rolling his eyes.

“Great.” He replies shortly and you side eye your phone, a pout gracing your lips.

“I told you Jay if you’re busy you don’t have to feel obligated to walk me home.” You sigh and so does he.

“It’s not that, I—just had to do something and it slipped my mind.” His words don’t help the situation and you frown.

“You’re proving my point.” You laugh awkwardly and he grows frustrated.

“You know what I gotta go, glad you got someone else to take you home.” He doesn’t even let you answer before he hangs up, leaving you dumbfounded.

Jay hadn’t texted you for almost two weeks and you were both frustrated and worried. Even if he did answer he’d respond with short replies or excuses as to why he couldn’t walk you home. You can’t help but repeat your guys last conversation over and over in your head.

Was he jealous? You guys never discussed what you guys were.

You guys had to be just friends right? Pushing down your feelings and looking at it realistically you truly didn’t know if Jay even reciprocated your feelings.

Even if there was knowledge to how you both felt, there was no label.

It’s not like Jay was doing any better. He was upset and yet he has no reason to be since you guys weren’t even together, it still bothered him.

Jay knew he liked you but he wasn’t sure if you felt the same way. And even though this guy was your friend he couldn’t stop his mind from racing at the thoughts of you seeing other people.

That thought alone leaving a sour taste in his mouth and an ache in his heart. It was bothering him so much he wasn’t even doing good in training.

“Damn man, what is wrong with you? You got the power but where’s your strategy. You’re fighting sloppy. The fight is tomorrow.” Heeseung says frustratedly and even a little worried. Jay rips his gloves off, tossing them to the side.

“Don’t you think I fucking know that?” Jay snaps. Heeseung grows angrier.

“What the fuck is your problem? Things ain’t going good with your girl?” Jay scoffs, taking a drag out of his water.

“I’ll take that as a yes, don’t fuck this up.” Heeseung says, walking away.

“Fuck you.” Jay spits, his breathing uneven.

Leaving him alone to rustle with his thoughts.

You’re at work when you overhear your coworkers talking about some fight in the lunch room.

“Man! You said you’d come! This is like the biggest fight ever!” He exclaims pointing at a paper. You blink and continue to eat your food.

“Who’s fighting again?” Another coworker asks and the guys eyes glint with excitement.

“The one and only RAS! Jongseong Park! Jay?” The guy says and your head snaps towards them.

Their words die out.

It couldn’t be your Jay right?

“Hey, can I see it?” You point to the paper and your coworkers stare at you confused.

“Uh sure.”

Your eyes almost bulge out your skull when you see Jay on the front of it, a lopsided grin on his handsome face adorning no shirt at all.

He was a boxer?!

Scratch that an underground fighter?! You couldn’t believe your eyes.

“They’re fighting tonight?” You say in disbelief and the guy hums.

“I didn’t take you as a boxing watcher?” The guy grins and you hum.

“My brother is obsessed with it.”

Is the last thing you say before making your way to your computer. Searching up Jay’s name and the fight to begin with. You find nothing other than small posts about it.

However you find a an address, matching the same one on the paper. It was less than fifteen minutes from your job.

You realize now that the topic of Jay’s occupation never was mentioned. But now it made sense, all of the injuries he’d have.

You can barely focus on your work for the rest of the day. Only on Jay and this fight that was coming up.

Immediately after you clock out you’re making your way to said address. It’s in a very sketchy part of the city. You can’t help but feel like a piece of meat with the way everyone stares you down. However you make it to the building and it looks like a motel.

“I’m here for the fight?” You say and the guy blinks at you.

“Fifty bucks.” He says and you sigh, sliding the cash over to him. He nods at the guards and they let you pass, opening a door.

As you walk down the stairs, screams and cheers grow louder. You gawk at just how big this place was. It was like an underground stadium! You quickly notice all of the banners, posters, cutouts, you name it, of Jay.

As you walk through the crowds, you’re being stared down once again. You understand why, you look too formal to be here. Most of the women wearing little to no clothing, you stood out like a thorn. The lights turn off and you gasp. Shining right in the middle of the ring. The crowd silencing.

“Ladies and gentlemen, this is the moment you’ve all been waiting for!” He yells and the crowd roars, claps, throwing drinks.

“This fight lasts ten rounds, each three minutes long. Make sure to place your bets because we’re ready to rumble!” He screams, further pumping up the crowd.

“Fighting out of the blue corner, Ethan, Boogieman Davis!” The crowd is filled with boos and cheers, the man raising his hands up, holding them near his ears.

“Out of the red corner. The one and only, Jongseong RAS Park!”

The whole ground shakes with the amount of people screaming for him. Jay smiles, raising his gloved hand and bowing.

“God he’s so fucking hot right!” A random girl nudges you and you blink at her.

“He must be so good in bed. All that stamina has gotta go somewhere.” She laughs and you flush.

As the round starts you’ve accepted that you can’t watch it. To scared to see the outcome or watch Jay get punched. So you roam around the place. You pass by the bar and what looks like to be a food court and the restrooms.

Until you find another set of stairs. You walk up them as the scream’s Ooo’s! and Ah’s begin to fade again. You find a hallway, doors littering them. As soon as you reach one of them, it opens. You freeze and the mystery person doesn’t stop until they see you.

“No fucking way.” Heeseung gawks. You blink at him and he hasn’t moved.

“W-What are you—How? Oh my god.” He freaks out, pacing and grabbing at his hair. You open your mouth to say something but he cuts you off, pushing you by your shoulders.

“Honey you need to leave like right now and act like you’ve never ever came here ok?” He says all rushed out and you stop spinning towards him.

“I’m not leaving.” You pout and he groans.

“If Jay sees you. I’m dead!” He emphasizes with his hands.

“Scratch that. He can’t see you.”

“Why?”

“He’ll lose! I don’t know what has happened between you but you have got him riled up and in a bad mood for the past two weeks! So if he sees you there’s no way he’s winning. And I need him to win!” Heeseung says almost desperately.

“Well I can’t leave.” Heeseung whines and looks down at you, nibbling on his lips.

“Fine! But you’re staying in here.” You open your mouth to protest but Heeseung isn’t having it.

“Stay. In. Here. You’re safer in here anyways.” He sighs.

“I gotta go, Jay needs me.” He says, throwing an apologetic look your way and leaving without another word. Y

ou can still hear faint cheers and you sigh, your nerves all over the place.

Back down in the ring, it’s the 6th round. Both fighters are already battered up and even though Jay looked almost unscathed, he has a nasty gash on his eyebrow, due to the opponent “accidentally” headbutting him.

“You have to end this quick. He’s playing nasty, technically you’re winning by that point deduction but still. We want a knockout.” Heeseung says as a medic helps to clean and stop his cut from profusely bleeding.

The seventh round commences and without a second passing the “Boogieman” is delivering hard punch right to the Jay’s gash, making him stumble. The guy grins and doesn’t hesitate to land calculated punches on Jay.

He’s against the ropes, trying to block and evade any punches that are being thrown.

He’s so tired.

He wants to stop.

He wants it to be over.

Maybe if he just let one connect and lose it’d be fine.

His mind travels to you, your voice buzzing through him. ‘My Hero.’ You once said jokingly to him when he caught you from almost tripping. He smiles at the memory.

God did he miss you so fucking much.

At this time you both would probably be roaming the streets, getting snacks and cracking jokes. With the seventh round surely going to his opponent, Heeseung grows worried.

“Fuck, come on man. You gotta win this. If not for yourself, for Y/n.” Jay’s head snaps towards Heeseung and he gulps.

You’re with Jay all the time, when he’s home, training or even right now. You never leave his mind. Even though you don’t know this side of him, he’ll use you as his motivation.

That if he wins this, he’ll stop being a fucking coward and fess up his feelings for you, maybe even kiss you like he’s always wanted to.

So with the beginning of round eight, he lets his opponent land a couple of hits, reading his movements. It’s a risky play and Heeseung is practically shitting himself.

Right when his opponent goes into his mantra of rushed punches, Jay waits for an opening.

Stupid move.

The “Boogieman” had let his guard down, believing Jay wouldn’t do anything other than block. But in a moment Jay is ducking, turning his body, he’s delivering a nasty uppercut.

The whole crowd silences for a moment, sitting at the edge of their seats as the fighter hits the ground. The referee begins his counts and people begin standing up, counting with him. Jay breathes heavily, ready for sign that his opponent might get back up.

However the ref reaches ten, signaling the fight is over. The arena is louder than ever, as Jay smiles in relief, almost laughing. Heeseung and some people from their team join him in the ring, picking him up and cheering. With the announcer, both fighters and the referee between them.

“Our new lightweight champion by KO, Jongseong ‘RAS’ Park!” The announcer drags out, the referee holding his hand up as they wrap the belt around his waist. Jay smiles as the crowd chants his name, holding his belt. Jay gives a small speech, showing his respects to his opponent, the fight is over.

As quickly as victory is there it’s gone when Heeseung remembers you waiting in the locker room. The both of them walking up the steps.

“Jay.” Heeseung says and he turns around.

“What’s up.” He says stopping in front of the door. Heesung’s gives him an envelope.

“Y/n is here.” He almost whispers and Jay grows angry.

“Really man, that’s not fucking funny.” He rolls his eyes, beginning to turn the handle.

Heeseung stands with his head down as Jay opens the door and sees you standing there. The envelope falling from his hands.

He blinks once.

Then twice.

Then he’s turning around, definitely going to kill Heeseung.

“Wait!” You both yell and Jay freezes, his eyes snapping towards you. You stand there with a pout.

“Just, talk to me please. Deal with him later.” You mumble. Jay sends a glare to Heeseung.

“Leave.” He grits and Heeseung is gone in a flash.

Jay picks up the envelope and closes the door behind him. You watch as he sits on the bench, unwrapping his hands. You sigh at the cuts on his face. He doesn’t pay you any mind until you’re in front of him with a first aid kit.

“What’re you-” You hold his face and he blushes, eyes meeting yours.

You stare at him a little longer before you begin to open the box. You inspect the deep gash on his eyebrow. Your finger softly gliding around the skin.

“You’re gonna need stitches.” You whisper and he hums.

“Did you win?” You break the silence and he sighs.

“Mhm.” He says shortly, making you pout. You narrow your eyes and push the cloth with alcohol in to one of his cuts.

“Ah! What the hell!” He groans staring up at you.

“You ignore me for two weeks and you’re still mad? I don’t even know what I did!” You continue to pout as you tend to his wounds.

“I’m sorry.” He finally says.

“I’m being stupid.”

“Yea you are.” He narrows his eyes at you and you smile.

“Actually I have a right to be mad. Why are you here.” He frowns, crossing his arms.

“What? You didn’t want me finding this out? The one and only RAS?” You tease and he groans.

“You don’t care?” He grows a little conscious.

“No? It’s hot anyways.” He blushes again and you smile, gliding your thumb along a cut in his lip.

“You should be happy. You won.” You say softly and he nods.

“Thanks to you.” He gazes up at you and blink.

“I thought of you, you’re like my only motivation.” He mumbles, now his ears and neck were red. You smile and swiping his hair out of his face.

“You big sap.” You laugh, biting your lip. His hands come up to rest on the small of your back, rubbing circles.

“I really like you.” He whispers and your heart clenches.

“And I’ve been such a fucking coward and when you mentioned that guy—I just.” You can’t help but smile.

“I like you to Park.” He rolls his eyes, you lean down and peck his lips.

His eyes widen, staring at you in disbelief. You smile cutely as you clean his cut, but he grabs your wrist. He stands up, caging you against the lockers. His hand cups the back of your neck, the other on your waist. He pulls you into another kiss. You both lose yourself in each other, your hands tightly gripping his tank top.

“Wanted to do this for so long.” He breathes against your lips. His hand slides down, gliding along your waist and back.

“Got so mad when you mentioned that guy.” He huffs, nibbling on your bottom lip. You gasp and he shoves his tongue in your mouth.

“M-My friend?” You question and he almost growls.

“Don’t care what he is. You’re mine.” He breaks away from your lips, planting kisses down your neck.

“J-Jay.” You moan, your hands gripping his hair.

He hisses, clamping his teeth down on your neck. You whine, craning your neck to give him more access as your hands drag down his chest. You finally feel the muscle and rigid of his abs, making you bite your lip.

“Please.” You whine and he smirks.

“What you begging for huh?” He whispers in your ear, biting your earlobe, you grip his shoulders and he grins.

He pats your thighs and you jump. He carries you with ease, setting you on the counter of the sink. His hands rub at your thighs as he slots himself between your legs, spreading them apart.

“Can I?” His hand rests on your shirt and you nod. He teasingly unbuttons it slowly one by one.

“Jay stop teasing.” You whine, tugging at his wrist.

“Such an impatient girl.” He smiles, sliding the shirt off of you. He immediately places kisses on the apple of your breasts, squeezing one of them.

“So fucking beautiful.” He whispers in to your skin.

“I’m gonna take these off okay?” He says, tugging at your slacks. You nod dumbly and he smiles, pecking your lips.

As he works off your pants you rake your nails along his abs, making him shudder. He drops down to his knees, placing kisses and sucking marks into your plush skin, massaging your thighs.

“Perfect, you’re so perfect.” He gazes up at you and you moan at the sight.

He peels off your panties, licking his lips upon seeing your glistening folds.

“Fuck pretty, you’re wet.” You whine in embarrassment, your hands shooting to cover your face and he laughs.

Licking a long achingly strip. You sigh, your thighs twitching. He cups the back of your knees, placing your legs on his shoulders. He sucks and nips at your clit, pretty noises leaving your mouth as your juices cover his mouth.

“Taste so sweet.” He groans and you flush at his words.

“S-Stop talking—ngh!” You moan as he inserts two fingers inside your greedy hole.

“What was that baby?” You whine, as he pumps them inside you, his arm flexing.

“You’re mean.” You whimper and he only smiles wider.

As his fingers move faster so does his tongue, flicking your bud. His lips so plump and fast.

“Jong—” You moan and he can feel his cock twitch.

“Fuck, say it pretty girl.” He pulls out his fingers and you pout at the emptiness until he’s replacing it with tongue. A guttural moan leaving you.

“Close! So close Jongie.” Your hole clenches around his tongue, only sucking him in.

He groans against you, only adding more stimulation, feeding the fire that you feel in your core. His hand moves up to rub your clit, he feels you flutter against him, your cunt spasming against him.

“Cumming!” You cry out, your legs closing around him as your hand tugs at his hair, riding his face. He licks and sucks up all your juices, rubbing soothing circles on the inside of your thighs.

“Did so good for me.” He says breathlessly, peppering soft kisses on the inside of your thighs, even one on your tummy.

Your head still fuzzy from your orgasm but you smile down at him. He gently slides your panties back on along with your pants. He wipes his face with one of his towels, placing a kiss on the side of your head.

“So does this mean I can take you out on a date?” He asks, his hands at your waist once again.

“After that performance, I can’t say no.” You grin, your arms wrapping around his neck.

“You’re talking about my fight or my mouth.” He grins as you shove him away.

“Who knew you were such a freaking tease.” You flush, his hands intertwining with yours.

“Still waiting on that answer angel.”

“You called me like a million names already.” You laugh and he smiles.

“Just seeing which ones I like more but they all suit you.” He smiles and you do too.

“Yes Jay, I’ll go on a date with you.” He pecks your lips, tasting yourself on his lips.

“It’s Jongseong to you or Jongie.” He grins.

“Just to be clear you’re mine right? I just don’t wanna ask you like this.” He raises his brows.

“Yes, I’m yours.” You laugh.

“All yours Jongie.” You drag out and he nuzzles his face in your neck.

“Atta girl.”

Heeseung😒

wrap it up dude

the owner is waiting for you two to leave

glad you made it to third base though;)

[cosmicalily]

'real love baby' with stray kids, ot8 headcanons by @cosmicalily

author's note: i absolutely adore this song by father john misty; i think it's the sweetest love song and just so prettily written. i wanted to do headcanons kind of similar to my 'everything is romantic' ones, where instead of just going off typical love languages and tropes (which are beautiful in their own way!), i kind of make up my own and unique scenarios for each! hope you enjoy! warnings: angst in hyunjin's, jisung's, and seungmin's (reasonably mild)

Chris, who loves you adoringly.

It was quiet in your apartment when you got home, although you knew that Chris would most definitely not be asleep. However, you walked through slowly and silently, just in case he was doing something important. Suddenly, you walked into a firm, black tank-top clad chest and squealed. A bouquet of roses dropped to the floor, petals falling everywhere. “I’m sorry, I was trying to be sneaky,” You sighed, shifting your sock across the petals. “Were these for me?” “No, they were for Han Jisung,” Chris deadpanned, then burst out giggling. “Of course they were. Although they’re a bit fucked up now. Sorry, baby.” You smiled at him. “That’s okay. What was the occasion, anyway? It’s not anywhere near our anniversary or my birthday or anything.” “Nothing. Just wanted to remind you that you’re a cute girl who deserves cute stuff like this, and that I love you.”

Minho, who loves you quietly.

When you come home from a girls’ night out, Minho doesn’t like to immediately approach you at the door. Instead, he stays where he is, sitting upright in bed, phone on his bedside table. He watches you as you undo your hair, take off your dress and put on your pyjamas. He watches you in the bathroom mirror, wiping off your makeup and washing your face. When you’re done, you come to him in bed, and it’s then that he pulls you onto his lap, slipping his hands around your waist and kissing you softly. It’s the moments like this that the two of you crave, the little pockets of quiet amongst your chaotic lives. And that’s where you’ll stay, cosy against each other, minimal words exchanged. Because he can’t ever find any that fully expresses the warmth he feels for you, the love in his eyes as he observes you simply existing. “Hold me,” is all he mumbles, and that’s exactly what you do.

Changbin, who loves you loudly.

“Doesn't my girlfriend look beautiful today?” Changbin asks, gesturing towards you. You’re pretty sure you’ve heard this exact question seven times now, said to each of the boys, and you’re not even that dressed up. However, to Changbin, in a simple pink sweater and loose jeans, you’re the equivalent of a Victoria’s Secret Angel, wings, halo and all.  “This feels like a trick question. If I say yes, you’re gonna punch me. If I say no, you’ll do the same,” Chris sighs, but offers you a smile. “I like the sweater.” “Thanks,” you reply, lightly shoving your boyfriend. “Changbin, sweetheart, that’s enough. Talk to them about other things. It’s boring otherwise.” “You’re not boring! You’re all I ever want to talk about,” he pouts, and you giggle.

Hyunjin, who loves you intensely.

Sometimes Hyunjin feels like he’s too much for you. At times, in between his dramatic statements, sweet pieces of poetry and watercolour paintings, he feels a tiny bit of fear. Fear that all his romantic gestures simply overwhelm you. When he gets himself into this fragile headspace, it’s you that returns his passionate love, reminding him that it’s the reason you fell for him in the first place. Carrying a huge bouquet of flowers, you confront your boyfriend, who is sitting on the couch, scrolling on his phone. He’s been quiet today. “Flowers for you, pretty boy,” you declare, thrusting the bouquet into his arms. “I also sent you the link to a playlist of songs I want to play at our wedding, and there’s wine in the kitchen.” “Baby…when I do things like this for you, it’s not too much, is it? I’m not too much for you?” he asks, placing the flowers on the floor and reaching for your waist. “Never. You could never be, Hyune.”

Jisung, who loves you softly. 

You’d been best friends with Jisung since the beginning of high school, and dating since the end. He was your other half, someone who’d been with you since the start and who you knew would stay until the end. You were both fragile at times; him with his anxiety and you with your melancholia. There were days that were tough, times where you both needed endless support and validation just to make it to the end. Today, you lay in the bath, your body numb, head hurting. You weren’t in a good headspace, and Jisung knew this when he approached you gently. “Do you want me to rub your shoulders, baby?” he’d asked softly, running the pad of his thumb across your eyes where the tears brimmed. “Yes please,” you’d mumbled in response, and he kissed the tip of your nose.

Felix, who loves you warmly.

Felix would see the two of you in everything, from an old couple drinking tea to a pair of marshmallow keychains. He loved you more than he thought was possible, in ways that made his heart feel fit to bursting. It brought him a rush of excitement and joy, something he carried with him throughout the day. His favourite time with you was the mornings; the sunlight from the open window pouring into the room, casting a yellow glow. You always woke up before him, leg thrust across his, forehead pressed against his neck, pressing soft kisses to the warm skin. “Morning, sweet girl,” he’d murmur, voice groggy. “Did you sleep well?” “Dreamt of you,” you’d reply chirpily, and he’d giggle. He hoisted your body off his, laying you on your back. Pressing a kiss to your forehead, his hands travelled to your waist, before he tickled the soft skin.

Seungmin, who loves you unconditionally.

It had not been an easy day for you. On top of your hormones, a full day at work and having not seen your boyfriend for a week while he’d been filming overseas, you’d just remembered you had an assignment due that evening at midnight. When Seungmin came through the door, eyes bright and smile wide, excited to see you, you threw yourself at him, bursting into tears. He pulled you in close and tight, letting you cry into his shoulder. He didn’t know what had happened, whether you were upset or angry or stressed, but he held you, because he didn’t mind. Your body relaxed against his a little, and you pulled away, eyes puffy. “I’m sorry,” you mumbled. “I’m such a mess.” “Don’t be,” he replied honestly, and kissed your cheek softly. “You breathed today. That’s enough to be proud of.”

Jeongin, who loves you sweetly. 

You and Jeongin’s love for fashion was what had sparked your relationship in the first place; you’d met him on Depop of all places, purchasing a leather jacket he didn’t wear enough. He’d asked for your Instagram so he could see pictures of you in ‘his baby’, and as a result, your crush had blossomed. Now, he didn’t have to sell you his clothes; they were in his wardrobe, free for you to grab whenever he wanted. And he encouraged it, because he loved seeing you in them. He’d also often buy pieces for you that he thought you’d like. “I found this skirt in the vintage shop down the road,” he’d said, pulling out a plaid miniskirt. “It’s like the one I saw saved on your Pinterest board.” “Baby, that is the one saved on my Pinterest board,” you’d gasped, staring at the skirt in shock. “It’s also Vivienne Westwood. I don’t even want to know how much it cost you.” “Then I won’t tell you,” he replied plainly, smiling. “Go try it on. You’ll look adorable.”

[rebelliousstories]

Can I request suggestive headcanons for Remy, Logan, Wade, and poly Logan & Wade reacting to his shy gn s/o immediately covering their eyes while apologising profusely because they accidentally saw him half-naked because he was changing clothes please?

Walking in on Their S/O Changing…

Fandom: X-Men

Request: Yes by Anon

Warnings: Suggestive themes, Brief Strong Language, Fluff

Word Count: 1,043

Main Masterlist: Here

X-Men Masterlist: Here

Logan Howlett/ The Wolverine

* Okay, so keep in mind that this man has been alive for more than 200 years. He’s seen a lot. He’s done a lot. There is not much else that can surprise him in terms of learning new things

* However… You can still surprise him

* I completely see him as a man that would just casually steamroll past the fact that you were only in your undergarments. He’s not phased, nor does he care.

* Logan will definitely take the time to ogle if he gets the chance, but he’s aware there is a time and place for that.

* “Hey, we were out of beer so I took the truck to go get some… oh shit.” And with that, he was speechless. Logan’s eyes would trail up and down your figure, even though part of it was obscured by the tshirt that was pressed against your body

* Silently, he would stalk closer and closer to you, never once taking his eyes off of you. His hands would gently pull the shirt away so he could get a better look. Feather light touches would cascade themselves down your arms, and chest; all the while his eyes would drink it up

* Picking you up, he walked over to the bed while holding you and pressing his nose into the crook of your neck

* “What about the beer?”

* “Forget the beer.”

Wade Wilson/Deadpool

* Oh, the beloved merc with the mouth. How do I say this gently? He will both make you love and hate him walking on you. It all started because he had gotten you a new suit that he wanted you to wear.

* Wade had begged and begged you to wear it, but there was no appropriate timing to do so. It had gotten to the point that he had accepted that you weren’t going to wear it. But when you finally had been worn down enough, he got super giddy at the prospect of you wearing it. But you had taken too long in his mind which prompted him to take matters into his own hands.

* “What’s taking you so long, angel cakes? Oh, hello.”

* “Wade! Get out!”

* Throwing things does not deter this man, oh no, my friend. For when he gets a glimpse of you, half undressed with the suit on the bed, he’s gonna need his special sock. Wade is frozen in a state of bliss and was unable to move himself. Not until you forcibly pushed him out, and shut the door on him. When you had finally put the suit on and came out to show him, he was still unable to form complete sentences or even words at you.

* Safe to say, you had finally silenced “the mouth”

Remy LeBeau/Gambit

* Ah, Le Diable Blanc. See, I know, you want me to come on here and talk about how big of a flirt Remy is. But no! That boy is a southerner, and southern men are raised to be gentlemen. I truly, in my heart of hearts believe, that if Remy caught you changing, he would blush and book it out of there.

* Hear me out! Just, imagine it, okay…

* It’s late and Remy hasn’t come home from his night out playing cards. The hour was nearing one in the morning, when you finally decide to call it a night, but you’re unable to fall asleep quite yet. Fearing that you’ll have to spend another night watching horrible late night reruns in the motel, you began changing into one of his tshirts to sleep in when you heard the door open. Struggling to get the shirt over your head to have some sort of coverage, you weren’t quite fast enough.

* “Ooh, I tell you cher, it was a goo- oh lord have mercy.”

* And like that, the door was shut again. Maybe you let out a squeak, maybe a gasp. But either way, your ragin’ Cajun was outside the room, breathing heavily and holding it shut. After a few minutes, he pressed his ear to the door to hear inside.

* “Cher, you dressed yet?”

* “Yeah. You can come in.”

* When he does, you’re already under the covers with the remote to the tv next to you, looking at the door. Gambit just grabbed his change of clothes that didn’t smell like sweat, alcohol, and smoke, and went to change in the bathroom. When he came out, he assumed his place with you in bed. On his back with you tucked into his side.

* Although, the only mention he ever gave, was a whisper of, “You look real pretty under all that, cher. Like an angel sent straight to save ol’ Gambit.”

Poly! Wolverine and Deadpool

* Prepare for trouble and make it double! Two lovers with a regenerative healing factor that makes snarky comments? Sign me up!

* This is definitely happening after a morning food run. You’re living with them, and Mary Puppins, and Blind Al, and Wade decided that today was the day for donuts and good coffee. Logan was thoughtful enough to leave a note on his side of the bed stating where they were going and that they would be back.

* This left you and the dog to get ready for the day by yourselves. After a lengthy shower that you didn’t have to share, you had made your way into the room to get some fashion advice from the sweet little pupper.

* “Okay girl. Do we go with the yellow dress, or the red dress today?”

* There was a noise, and two men bumbled into the room.

* “Avert your eyes, sweet summer child. But you should just forgo the dress. And the under garments while you’re at it.”

* “Can you go five minutes without something becoming sexual?”

* Wade gave an mhm while shaking his head, and turned back to his partner. Logan had to do a double take at your state, but there was appreciation in his eyes.

* “Can you two give us girls some privacy?”

* Logan had to drag his counter part out of there even though he managed to break free from the mutant’s hold on a number of occasions. As he left, the Wolverine sent an affirmative grunt and nod towards the red dress in your hands.

[bookshelf-dust]

promise to take care of my heart

carmy berzatto x fem!reader

gif by @emziess

word count: 1,830

warnings: nothing? a little swearing, but this is pure fluff and that’s all

synopsis: carmy wants to cuddle with you for the first time.

a/n: hi! new character, i know. but i’ve become rather attached to carm in the past few months and i had a cute idea for him and here we are. he’s bringing me so much comfort right now and now i’m gonna share that with you <333

————

“Why don’t you pick out a movie or somethin,’ bub?” 

“If I could find your damn remote, Carm, I would.”

He lets out a breath of a laugh, eyes on his hands where they sit deep in the dishwater below. Good luck, he thinks. 

You scan the coffee table, the rug below the shabby couch. It’s not like there’s any use checking the tv stand because it’s still a fucking table tray. You know he doesn’t even own the full set of four table trays? He’s just got the one? That knowledge keeps you up at night. Just like how he doesn’t have a ceiling fan pull and has to get tweezers to change the speed.

You find the remote nestled in a stack of freshly organized books. You helped Carmen assemble a very simple bookshelf so that his stash of cookbooks wouldn’t have to live on the floor anymore. 

Just getting to help him turn his apartment into something other than a place to sleep brought you a contagious giddiness. Carmen’s chest aches with how much he’s laughed since he met you. 

Look at all my muscles, Carm. I’m practically ready for my dick now, don’t you think? 

Where’d you even get these? He’d looked down at the little allen wrench in your hand and said I don’t know, they were just here one day. 

Now you have a bookshelf, Bear. What a grown up. 

Carmen wouldn’t let you help him with the dishes after he cooked you dinner. He’d just kissed your shoulder and said, “Let me take care of it, alright?” with that little raise of his brows and quirk of his lips telling you not to argue because you’d never win. 

And when Carmen tells you to let him take care of something, well…you listen. 

You haven’t been dating very long, but it’s been enough that you’ve both developed this rhythm, this way of moving around and with each other and you just…work. 

He doesn’t understand how you can dial his shyness, his hesitance, so quickly, how you can make him feel like a human again so easily. But you do. 

You settle against the back of the couch, flipping through the tv guide (because Carm has never subscribed to any streaming services) until you find something worth listening to. It’s already a few minutes in, but you’ve seen the movie enough times that it doesn’t really matter. 

The overhead light in the kitchen switches off and Carmen pads out to the living room, socked feet dragging on the hardwoods. Your biggest pet peeve is people who don’t pick up their feet, but somehow it’s more tolerable when it’s him. 

He sits down on the edge of the couch. Just sits. On the edge. That means he wants to say something. You give him the time to psych himself up. 

Carmy chews on his thumb nail and rubs his nose before he turns to you, placing his hand on the couch. His blue eyes burn into yours, and the intensity of his gaze, trained on you, makes you feel like the most important person in the world. 

“H-hey, um…can we—could we snuggle, maybe?” He flushes at the fact that he just used the world snuggle. Richie would have his ass so quick if he’d heard him say that. 

Your grin is brilliant. You’ve never cuddled properly with Carmen before. Maybe a head on a shoulder or a leg tossed across another, but never a real cuddle session. “Fuck yeah, we can, Carm.” You giggle and the sound softens that bubble of fear in his chest. 

He bites the inside of his cheek, letting out the barest laugh. 

“How did you want t-to lay, Bear?” You blink at him. “Were you just gonna—” 

He starts to nod. “I was just gonna lay on your chest, honestly.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, that works.”

“Y-yeah.”

You snort. “Lemme’ stretch out for you and then you can be a teddy bear.” 

“Seriously?”

“Yes.” Carmen shakes his head at you. He lets you pull that shit because he likes it. Secretly.

When you have a pillow under your neck and are laid out on your back, Carm slips beside you against the back of the couch and clumsily settles on top of you. He doesn’t want to crush you or anything, so he settles between your legs, only allowing the weight of his torso to envelop you. 

One arm wraps around your back, the other cradling your hip, his curls brushing your chin. He turns his head to face the tv and lets out a satisfied sigh. 

On instinct your hand threads through his tangled hair, scratching at his scalp gently and sorting through any piece that feels knotted. 

“What is this?” Carmy asks, nodding in the direction of the screen. 

“The Wedding Planner. It has Jlo and Matthew McConaughey in it.” 

“Chick flick?”

You hum in agreeance. “Yeah, but you wouldn’t hate it. Jlo’s character is like you but if the restaurant was a wedding planning business and you were, you know, a chick.”

He laughs lightly against your stomach and you can feel the puff of air over your shirt. 

The weight of Carmen’s body on top of yours is easily the most calming feeling you’ve ever experienced. You can’t get enough of him. 

“This okay?” you ask, scratching his scalp a little more for emphasis. This is a new way of showing affection. Uncharted territory. 

“Hm?” He looks up at you briefly, blue eyes fluttering closed. “Oh yeah, feels nice. I like it.”

You grin and continue to play with his hair. He’s right. It does feel nice. It is. 

The next few minutes go by without any conversation, just silence. But it’s so comfortable. Carmen’s tired gaze is on the tv. You can feel him breathing, feel the way he scratches over your back absently. You don’t know if he’s aware he does it, but he nuzzles his nose against the soft of your stomach every now and then like it’s keeping him safe. 

“You know I thought about being a wedding planner?”

Carmy pushes up onto his elbows, looking at you with the smallest smirk playing on his lips. “Really?”

You playfully bat at his shoulder and he moves to lay back down, but not before pressing a kiss to your sternum over your shirt. “Mhm. Still think about it sometimes.” You pause, but Carm doesn’t say anything yet because he knows you aren’t finished with that thought. 

“I guess I just thought it’d be nice to help put things like that together? The organization would make me feel…complete, I guess. And you know I don’t like to help people in such an extroverted way? I like to be behind the scenes.” You laugh, a little self-deprecatingly. “Does that make sense?”

Carmen squeezes your side. “‘Course it does. And then you could come home and tell me stories about all the family drama you eavesdrop on.”

You giggle, and Carmy loves that he can feel it where he lays on your chest. He can feel your joy, and that’s fucking cool. “That I could.”

He rubs your back in small, gentle circles. “And you know, I happen to have some friends who make pretty good food and would be happy to help if you ever needed.”

“Oh, do you? Well, that’s very helpful, Mr. Berzatto. You’ll have to give me their number.”

Carmy laughs into your chest. A pure, genuine laugh. It’s such a beautiful sound, and you truly think you’d have it tattooed all over your body if that was even remotely possible. His glee makes you laugh, and then you’re both snickering like you’re teenagers doing something that’ll get you in big trouble. 

You reach for his hand, the one that’s resting on your hip now, and he lets you lift it towards your face. He bites his cheek, fighting the smile that rises when you press your warm and chapstick covered lips to his knuckles. 

“You have such pretty hands, Carmy.”

He pinches your back. “I still don’t get why you’re so fascinated by them.”

“Because they’re pretty. And, look—” You hold yours up to his. “—they’re so much bigger than mine. And I like your tattoos, obviously. I like that I know how talented you are with your hands and how capable. I’m very lucky to hold such capable hands, Bear.”

“Capable, huh?” He gives you a look, one that makes you want to both tackle him and smack him on the arm. Instead you roll your eyes and he raises up to kiss you. 

“Capable of being the world’s biggest pain in the ass.”

Carmy laughs. It’s that little chuckle, light and airy and like he can’t believe what he’s hearing but he wants to hear more anyway. He flops back down on your chest, making you let out a rather loud oomph. 

You take Carmen’s hand in yours again, rubbing over the dry patches on his knuckles, the scabs on the insides of his fingers, the scar on his palm. His whole life is written in these hands. 

You start massaging the pads of his fingers without even thinking about it. No one’s ever been that gentle with him—definitely not with his hands—and a little part of him melts at the feeling. 

You kiss the tattoo on the back of his hand and just look at his skin. You’re determined to memorize each line and freckle and fucked up cuticle he’s got. 

“At least your nails don’t look like Richie’s, Carm.”

His chest moves with the giggle that travels throughout his body. 

“Trust me, they didn’t look like that when he was still with Tiff.”

You grin, your eyes falling back on the television. Maybe Carm would be open to setting it on the bookshelf? That table tray has put in a lot of work. It deserves a break. 

Carmen can see why you’re so fond of this movie. It’s one of those that doesn’t require much thought, that has humor and feels more human than most. He knows he shouldn’t think it, but you having said what you said before makes him wonder if you’ll plan your own wedding…with him. 

Shut the fuck up, he tells himself. But maybe we’ll get there. 

You catch him smiling when they fuck up the statue in the garden and pretend not to notice. You both keep quiet now, but Carm reaches up and puts your hand back on his head.

Your fingers thread through his curls again, scratching at his scalp gently. Your other hand does the same thing to his back. You know it’s going to lull him to sleep. 

When you say it, he’s already dozed off. But you are so happy that you get to make him feel safe. That he’s comfortable enough to sleep on you like this. Lucky is an understatement. 

“Thank you for letting me in, Bear. I don’t think my life has ever been this beautiful.”

————

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33

note: none of the gifs or images i use are mine! i get most of my images from pinterest or here, and gifs from about the same. please let me know if i ever don’t credit someone properly!

[docdudo]

Familiar 141 - Young Witch!Reader (Part 2)

“Aww, look at these sparks…” Gaz coos gently, watching your scared little figure curled up in the back of the nest as you try your best to use your magic to keep them away. “For a baby witch? Isn’t that just precious?”

A heavy grunt scares you enough for your magic to just die right then and there, your head whipping to the side where the big bastard of a familiar was sitting. His body looked completely relaxed, arms crossed and eyes focused on your little form curled against the wall.

“Careful, little witch,” Ghost warns, voice low and heavy, making you just stare at him with even more terror. “Might get hurt.”

“Ow, just let the lassie get everything out, she’s scared.” Soap smiles big, laying down on his belly, looking up at you with both hands holding his head up like a teenage girl in love or something.

He was so close to your curled-up legs too, almost asking for a kick in his face.

“We’re such good familiars, baby. No need to try to harm us,” Gaz coos again, crawling a little closer to your little form.

His movement was enough to startle you, magic immediately coming to life as your hands sparked hot red for a second.

Only to die right away thanks to big, warm hands enveloping your little ones and forcing your magic down easily.

“Our strong baby witch,” Ghost rumbles in an animalistic way, his giant hands holding yours close to his chest now that he was by your side. “It’s okay, calm yourself. You can get hurt like this, darlin’.”

“M-My magic…!” you manage to exclaim, a mix of indignation and fear as you look up at his face with big, wide eyes.

“No guidance, no preparation, no form.” Price’s voice immediately alerts you, making you look at the end of the room where the oldest familiar was quietly preparing something on that stupid high table of his. “It is pretty incredible that you have such high-level magic for a baby witch with no Coven, but it’s not good to try and use your magic at any given time like this.”

“I-I can use—I know how to use my magic…!” you protest slightly, now more indignant than anything else, little hands still stuck in the bigger familiar’s grasp.

You pretend not to notice the way he was rubbing your hands gently, not letting go.

“Never said you couldn’t, doll,” Price smirks a little as he spares you a glance from his chair. “Just saying it’s not smart. Might get hurt; even experienced witches lose control of their magic from time to time.”

“And no one’s expecting a baby to have the best control, mo leanbh,” Soap adds, still laying down with a big, dumb smile plastered on his stupid face.

It made you annoyed enough to uncurl one of your legs and… kinda kick his face? Well, not kick, more like push his face to the side as you press your little foot to his cheek. He didn’t seem to mind, though, a stupid grin as he lets you do as you want.

“Such a gentle little witch too…” Gaz mumbles, approaching once again to nuzzle against your side gently. Yeah, no, this jerk has to be a cat or something. “It has been ages since the last time I saw an actual baby witch….”

“They are always so well-hidden deep in Covens. A pity, too, that our last witch dinae take much interest in them.” Soap agrees easily, still not doing anything about your socked foot on his face.

You try to push him more, but he doesn’t really budge.

“Let go,” you grumble at Ghost, trying to free your hands as you glare (such a cute glare, he could look at your baby-ish, cute expression for decades) at him.

“Aww, but baby, what if you try to use your magic again?” And you know the second that you see the pout on Gaz’s lips that he’s mocking you. The audacity…!

“Boys, stop that, you’re going to overwhelm her—“

“G-Get away…!” You raise your voice a bit more, squirming against them, trying to free your hands from the restraining grip and trying to push the face against your foot farther from you.

And then you feel Soap grip your ankle. Gently, but he grips it nonetheless.

And then you’re crying, overwhelmed.

“Oh no, no, no, no, didn’t mean it, lassie!” Soap quickly lets go, getting up on his knees with a worried expression.

Ghost also lets your hands go, almost as if he was burned, and you immediately start to rub your face and eyes, sniffling as you try to contain your tears.

“I’m so sorry, hun, I’m sorry, I was being an asshole, wasn’t I…?” Gaz is also quick to apologize, lowering his body enough to be smaller than you as he bumps his head quietly against your arm, regret written all over his face.

Price lets out a heavy sigh from his chair, rubbing his face with the hand that isn’t working with something on the table.

“I know none of us are used to baby witches, but boys, you have to tone down. She’s not a mature witch; she can’t take your provocations like this.”

“Ah dinae even provoke…!” Soap immediately protests, hands hesitating around you as he tries to calm you down. “Gaz did it…!”

“Oh, shut it, Tav.” He growls quietly, shuffling a bit to your side as you keep sniffling and trying to control your tears.

And then, a black cat jumps onto your lap. A big, fluffy black cat. It confuses you for a second until you remember what familiars are, and you quietly settle down a little, hands hesitantly touching the cat now laying on top of your legs, looking up at you with big, yellow eyes.

The other familiars seem to calm down too as they see you calming down. Ghost is still unmoving by your side, but he doesn’t seem like a ball of anxiety anymore, and Soap also settles down in front of you, sitting on the mattress with a relieved sigh.

“Ghost, Soap, come ‘ere,” Price calls, approaching the nest now with what looks like four gold bands on his hands.

“Oh, we’re doing it already?” Soap asks, eyes big in excitement as he quickly grabs one of the gold bands. “Ah’ll start!”

You watch in almost shock as he quickly slashes a cut on his hand with just his long nails, rubbing his blood over the band before turning to you with a big, delighted grin, his hand coming up to gently, but firmly, pull your right leg closer to him.

“Johnny MacTavish, mah beirn.” And then, the band locks on your ankle, a flash of light blinding you for a second, your magic twisting inside of you in response to what you thought was his own magic coming into contact.

The cat jumps out of your lap in a quick movement, becoming a man in the span of a second and grabbing the other gold band, also swiping his nails against his arm to let his blood drip onto the gold.

“’M so sorry, sweetie, I’ll keep myself in check, yeah?” Gaz smiles gently, pulling your left leg forward with his hand. “Kyle Garrick.”

Another flash of light, another band locked in place, and once again, your magic twists inside you as soon as it comes into contact with his.

“Ugh…” You wince slightly, curling up a bit on yourself at the intense feeling.

“Is she hurting…?” Soap mumbles, unsure, looking at you worriedly.

“Probably a bit weirded out with some of our magic seeping through to hers…” Kyle says calmly, though he is also worried, pushing your hair a little out of your face.

“Even though we’re forcing the bond indirectly, she’s bound to feel some kind of discomfort…” Price nods, offering the third band to Ghost. “It would be way worse if we were actually doing the bond pact right off the bat. That’s for when she’s older.”

Ghost grunts as he bites down on his hand, rubbing the blood messily against the shining gold. You try to scoot away from him, but one of his hands immediately goes for your small back, pulling you close and grabbing your right arm.

“Simon Riley.” Immediately, the gold band locks on your wrist, a new wave of magic coming through you and almost knocking you out.

“Price, be gentle…” Kyle murmurs, frowning a bit at your pinched expression as he quietly tries to soothe you.

“Lass might pass out…” Soap observes, hand coming to your hair to pull it out of your face slightly.

“It’s going to be quick,” Price nods, approaching you and pulling your left arm close to him. He gently pulls it close, and with a small kiss against your palm, he locks the band in place. “John Price.”

The magic running through you is immediately bothered once again, twisting out of the way of a new presence as you squirm and whine in their arms. It’s getting hard to stay awake, your body still too weak and young to take the presence of four powerful familiars tied to you. Sure, it’s a weak bond, not a proper pact, but it would be unreal for a witch your age to manage to endure a bond pact. That’s probably why they chose this option in the first place; like this, you’re all tied together, and your young body and mind will be able to get used to them as time passes for a proper pact in the future.

For now, though, it’s all a little too much as you loose consciousness in their arms, feeling four traces of ancient magic stick to your much younger magic core.

[bibbityboppitybillyharvgrove]

Personal Heater - T.Nott

Summary - Theo acts as his sleepy girlfriend's personal heater on the night before Christmas, much to the dislike of their friends and roommates.

Word Count - 609

Warnings - foul language, drinking, female reader, use of Y/N, brief mention of troubling family, (Let me know if I missed any!)

Author's Note - Welcome to day three! I'm hoping to stay caught up with my writing, the end of my semester is approaching so everything is kinda piling up on me. I'm trying my best!

Feedback is welcomed and encouraged!

my masterlist

25 days of fics masterlist

Enjoy!

not my gif

not my gif

Spending Christmas at Hogwarts wasn’t all that bad. It was quite nice to wake up and not have the responsibility of acting civil with family that were never around or family that liked to cause problems. Theodore and most of his friends decided that they’d stay during Christmas break, the night before Christmas, the boys were all awake in the common room. Some of them were playing wizards chess and the others were just fooling around with the other boys. 

As it neared midnight, Y/N and Pansy had made their way to the common room with the rest of their friends. Pansy sitting between Blaise and Draco and Y/N making herself comfortable next to Theo. Once he got a good look at her, he knew right away that she had just woken up, her eyes were red and sleepy, her body was warm against his and her eyes were watering with how much she had been yawning.

“Lay down bellissima, you look tired,” Theo whispered in her ear, she looked up at him with a loving gaze. She took his offer willingly, kissing his cheek in return as she laid her head down on his shoulder and her legs over his lap.

“Thank you, Theo,” She whispered back, a drowsy tone laced in her voice. 

Within minutes, she had fallen back asleep, this time sleeping soundly in her boyfriend’s arms where she wished she was when she had fallen asleep earlier in the night. Crabbe decided that now was a great time to become obnoxiously loud for no reason at all. “Shut up you buffoon! If you wake her up I will not hesitate to kill you,” Theo threatened the boy, who immediately shut his mouth in fear.

“How dare anyone wake his bellissima! Oh it's blasphemous!” Pansy teased earning a deadly glare from the boy.

“Shut up Pans,” Y/N mumbled sleepily, snuggling herself closer to her boyfriend’s warmth. 

“Let’s go to bed before you fall asleep again,” Theo suggested before urging her up from the couch and leading her to his dorm. 

“Why are the dungeons so cold?” She whined, her feet freezing on the concrete of the dungeons despite the thick socks on her feet. 

“We are surrounded by concrete, amore mio. Of course it’s going to be cold.”

She rolled her eyes in a playful manner as she climbed into his bed. She was shivering at this point, her teeth chattering against each other. He climbed into bed with her, holding her body close to his. She slid her hands under his shirt to try and warm them, Theo wiggling away from them. “Salazar bellissima, your hands are so cold!” He shrieked in surprise. 

“And you’re so warm, Teddy! I can’t help myself, you’re like my own heater,” She told him. The two of them shared a laugh before letting out yawns. Neither of them remember falling asleep, only remembering sleepy laughter and getting woken up by a drunk Blaise and Draco as the sun began to rise. “What time is it, you heathens?” She asked her boyfriend’s drunk roommates.

“Like 6,” Blaise slurred out before collapsing on his bed. She looked to her boyfriend who had messy hair and droopy eyes. 

“Happy Christmas, Teddy,” She whispered to him.

“Happy Christmas, amore mio,��� He whispered back before planting a kiss to her lips. He let out a hum as he pulled away, “Your lips are cold.”

“Maybe you could warm them for me?” She winked at him causing a chuckle from him and a collective groan from his roommates. In turn, Theo closed the curtains and took his girlfriend up on her suggestion.

[jisungiesvzz]

Give Into Me

Hyunjin x fem!reader

Warnings: angst (if u squint), kissing, kind of public touching (no one sees), possibility of being heard (you were), fingering (f receiving), oral (f receiving), getting interrupted/caught, hint of Minsung’s whatevership :)

Word Count: 2.5k (ish)

P.S. first time writing smth like this so bear with me

Y’all already know the drill: this isn’t proofread so lmk if I’ve missed any warnings or need to fix any grammar/spellings ;)

—————

It was close to midnight when you and the other members finally arrived back at the dorms after a long day at the studio. Once you stepped inside the dorm, you took off your shoes and immediately  headed down the hallway to your room. You stopped in your tracks and turned around as you heard Felix call out to you.

“Y/n-ah, are you gonna hang out here with us?”

“Uh, let me put on some lounge clothes first.” You replied, sounding more drained than you intended.

Felix nodded and you continued your short journey to your room. You quickly changed into a grey hoodie and black sweatpants and slid your favorite white fluffy socks on. 

You exited your room and sat down on the edge of the empty couch, seeing that the other members hadn’t finished changing yet. 

A couple minutes went by as you absentmindedly scrolled through a random social media app on your phone. Your scrolling was interrupted when someone slumped onto the cushion next to you. You averted your eyes from your phone to see that Hyunjin was now taking up the rest of the couch. His eyes were glued on you.

“You do realize that seven more people have to sit here right?” You let out a soft giggle.

Hyunjin playfully rolled his eyes, “well they aren’t here right now.”

You gave him a look and he sighed sitting up and resting his head on your shoulder. Your heart swarmed with butterflies at his close proximity.

You’ve always had lingering feelings for Hyunijn but never said anything in fear of messing up your friendship and the groups dynamic.

“What are you watching?”

“Uh- I’m just scrolling through random stuff,” you stammered.

Hyunjin let out a soft laugh at your sudden nervousness.

“Let me see,” he said, leaning impossibly closer to you.

One of his legs was now draping over your lap and his head was basically on your chest. His hand touched yours as he turned your phone towards him slightly. Your mind was in a whole other world as you tried to register all of the sudden physical contact. You were immediately brought back to reality as you felt him staring at you. 

The moment you made eye contact with Hyunjin, he spoke in a low whisper. 

“Do I make you nervous?”

The question caught you off guard as it was so straight forward. You started tripping over your words.

“W-what? Why would you think t-that?”

Hyunjin smirks and leans closer to your face, leaving barely any space between your lips. His eyes flicker to your lips as he places his hand on your chest.

“Your heart beat’s giving you away,” he murmured.

You swallowed hard not knowing what to do. Your heart was beating a thousand miles per hour and you had the sudden urge to smash your lips against his.

Hyunjin seemed to have read your mind because within seconds, he had his lips attached to yours in a slow, sensual kiss. You reciprocated the kiss, melting into in his touch when he moved his hand to your cheek to deepen the kiss. He swiped his tongue along your bottom lip, asking for permission and you open your mouth to let him in. 

Before the kiss could get any more heated, you heard one of the members doors open. You hesitantly pulled back from the kiss but Hyunjin chased after your lips. 

You could hear Felix and Seungmin’s voices getting closer to the living room. You placed your hand on Hyunjin’s chest, applying some pressure to break him from your lips.

“Jinnie… they’re gonna see us,” you said out of breath.

Hyunjin stayed close to your face for a moment before untangling from you, a mischievous smirk on his face. 

“Oh my god today wiped me out,” Felix said exhausted as he slumped down on the opposite end of the couch. Seungmin sat down in the middle only letting out a quiet sigh of relief as he made contact with the couch.

The air around you felt thick as Hyunjin was still shoulder to shoulder with you. There was tension in the air between you and him but the other two didn’t seem to notice. You shuffled in your seat which caught Felix’s attention.

“Y/n-ah you alright? You seem kinda off ever since we got back,” Felix inquired.

“Uh… y-yeah no, like you said, you know today was… a lot,” you stuttered out, doing your best not to seem flustered.

You looked at Seungmin who had his eyebrow raised and was side-eyeing you and Hyunjin. Felix just hummed in acknowledgment, trying to put the pieces together but eventually shrugged off any suspicions. 

You heard the doors to the other members rooms opening and closing and soon enough, everyone came piling in.

 Jisung and Minho laid down next to each other by your feet on the floor. Bangchan had his back on the couch between Felix’s legs and was back hugging Jeongin while Changbin had wedged himself between Hyunjin and Seungmin.

“Yah! Binnie hyung could you be ANY closer?” Seungmin complained.

“You’re the one in the middle of the couch!” Changbin complained back.

“Yah! Both of you be quiet!” Bangchan intervened.

The two boys went back and forth until Bangchan grabbed a pillow and threw it at them.

“Seungmin scoot over and be quiet.”

Seungmin obliged and scooted over, giving Changbin a massive side-eye.

During the chaos, Jeongin had picked up the TV remote and picked out a movie to watch. The TV was at a steady volume as everyone settled down. Hyunjin had put a blanket over the two of you and laid his head on your chest again.

He was acting so innocent after basically swallowing you whole not too long ago.

How is he so calm?

Your heart skipped a beat as you felt a hand on your thigh. You looked down and saw the outline of Hyunjins hand under the blanket. You felt him massage your thigh and you shuffled from your position on the couch accidentally bumping Jisung on the ground. He turned around to look up at you and you whispered a strained ‘sorry’. He shrugged and turned back around, luckily not noticing where Hyunjin’s hand was placed.

He continued riding his hand up your thigh and stopped at your clothed heat, applying slight pressure. You leaned your head back, breath hitching as you bit your lip, biting back a whimper. Your head shot back up as you felt a hand wrap lightly around your ankle.

You looked down to see Jisung looking up at you again.

“Are you okay?” He mouthed, his boba eyes softening.

You nodded your head, giving the best reassuring smile you could. His eyes narrowed as if he wanted to believe you but Minho pulled his attention away by rolling on top of him and burying his face in Jisung’s neck. 

Hyunjin started rubbing circles on your clit and you cleared your throat.

“Guys I’m actually gonna head off to bed, I’m dozing off,” you said more calmly than you expected.

“What? Already?” Jeongin whined.

“One more episode? Pleasee.” Felix begged.

You removed Hyunjin’s hand from your heat and sighed, “I really want to but I can’t keep my eyes open.”

You got up from the couch, hoping that you sounded believable. You dashed to your room and shut the door letting out a relieved sigh when you heard the door click shut. You were so unbelievably aroused and shocked by what just happened. 

Hyunjin kissed me. And touched me. Fuck.

You went to go lay down in your bed when you heard your door creak open and click shut again. You already knew who it was.

You stood in the middle of the room, back to the door. Slow footsteps approached you as your breathing sped up. The footsteps stopped directly behind you and you could feel his breath on your neck.

Two hands grabbed your waist and spun you around. You gasped when you were met face to face with Hyunjin. His lips so close to yours, his gaze was desperate, filled with want and need.

“Why’d you run off?” he whispered.

“I uh- I couldn’t… you-”

You were cut off when he cupped your cheeks and pulled you into a hot and hungry kiss. You hesitantly melted into him once more and wrapped your hands around his biceps. He walked you back into the bed, never faltering from the kiss until you were laying flat on the bed.

His hands traveled across your body. He tugged at the bottom of your shirt asking for permission. You nodded your head and he wasted no time in pulling it over your head.

He started kissing and sucking on your neck and you let out a soft moan at the sensation. He left unmistakable marks along your neck. His kisses traveled down between your breasts and down to your stomach where he tugged at the waistband of your pajama pants.

“Wait- Hyunjin,” you whimpered.

Hyunjin kept kissing your stomach, lingering above your waistband. His fingers traced under your waistband and wrapped around your underwear. 

He looked up at you through his eyelashes, “Use your words, sweetheart.”

“The m-members are in the other room,” you said breathlessly.

Hyunjin removed his hand from your underwear and dragged his hands back up to your stomach, holding your waist. He leaned back up to your face leaving quick kitten licks up your body. 

He leaned down to your ear grazing his lips against it, “So what?”

You opened your mouth to respond but Hyunijn suddenly pulled your pants off causing you to gasp. He sucked at your neck again ripping a moan from your throat and you quickly covered your mouth with your hand. He pulled your hand away from your mouth.

“Jinnie they’re g-gonna hear,” you let out a muffled moan from biting your lip.

“Let them,” he said a bit quiet from his face being buried in your neck, “You know you like this.”

He broke away from your neck and took off his shirt, throwing it to a corner of the room. He kissed you passionately as his hands traveled down to your underwear again and pushed them aside. You gasped into his mouth at the feeling of the cool air on your heat. His fingers slid up and down your wet folds and he smirked into the kiss.

“You’re already so wet for me.”

He pushed two fingers into you causing you to moan into the kiss and he took the opportunity to  slide his tongue into your mouth. The kiss became wet and sloppy as he began pumping his fingers in and out of you at a steady but agonizing pace.

“Mmmh, faster Jinnie,” you whined, placing your hands on his chest and arching your hips into his hand. He placed his hand on your abdomen forcing your hips back down so he was in complete control. He dragged his lips down to your heat and sucked on your clit. You moaned loudly at the sensations he was giving you, hands flying to his hair to hold onto something - anything. You felt the familiar knot in your stomach and your walls started clenching around his fingers. He knew you were close and sucked your clit harder, pumping his fingers into you faster and deeper hitting your g-spot effortlessly. 

“Aah- I’m close Jinnie, I’m gonna-” your words became incoherent as Hyunjin flicked your clit with his tongue bringing you over the edge and releasing around his fingers. He detached from your clit, massaging it with his thumb to ride out your high. Hyunjin leaned back up to your face and attached his lips to yours, allowing his tongue to slip into your mouth. You moaned into his mouth again, tasting yourself on his lips and tongue.

You broke away from the kiss breathless, your forehead pressing against his.

 “That was… so fucking hot,” Hyunjin teased, looking down at your pussy that was leaking some of your release.

“Can I touch you?” you pleaded, a sudden urge to feel him washing over you as you eye the rock hard bulge in his pants. Hyunjin was taken aback by your sudden confidence boost but melted into you when you placed your hand on his bulge, slowly massaging it.

“Fuck Y/n, d-don’t do that,” he tried muffling his whimpers by kissing you but you knew the effect you were starting to have on him. He continued slowly kissing you as you undid his belt with one hand and massaging is dick in the other. 

You jumped when you heard a knock on the door, immediately  breaking away from Hyunjin making him groan at the loss of contact.

“Are you okay in there y/n?” you heard Felix call out.

“Y-yeah I’m fine!” You tried to sound believable but you were still aroused and out of breath. Hyunjin snickered at your fucked out state.

“You sure? You were making some… questionable noises.” It sounded like Felix regretted saying that the moment the words left his mouth. With that, Hyunjin let out a laugh but quickly covered his mouth. You stared at him in shock and smacked his arm.

“Was that…? Y/n is Hyunjin in there with you?”

You immediately shoved Hyunjin off you when you heard the door slowly open. 

“Wait- Felix don't!" you exclaimed as Hyunjin tried covering your body with a blanket.

Felix walked in and immediately yelped when he saw you two shuffling to hide under the sheets.

“Oh my god!!”

“Dude, get out!” Hyunjin threw a pillow at Felix which he successfully dodged by slightly closing the door.

You heard various foot steps coming towards your room along with muffled voices and your began to race as you reached for your clothes.

“Yah! What’s all the fuss about?” Bangchan said from down the hall.

“Nothing!” You and Hyunjin yelled out as Hyunjin leapt up to shove Felix out of the room, seeing as he had more clothes in than you. Once Felix was fully out the room, Hyunjin shut the door turning and leaning his back on the door. You were to shocked by what just happened to comprehend what the boys outside the door were gossiping about.

Hyunjin let out a shaky sigh then burst out laughing. You cocked a brow at him.

“What could possibly be so funny at a moment like this?”

“Sorry, sorry it’s just- you’re cute when you’re flustered that’s all.” He said between a shaky laugh.

You dramatically sigh pulling the blanket over your head with a groan. You suddenly feel the bed dip beside you and you gasp when two legs hover over you. Hyunjin pulls the blanket away from your face to reveal your flushed state.

“Don’t get shy on me now,” he teased. “We were just getting started.”

[basketonthedoorstepofthefbi]

"cold feet (literally)" - spencer reid x fem!reader

you wake up in the middle of the night to get a pair of socks

wc: 1k

cw: reader is described as wearing a bra, sickeningly sweet fluff, two idiots in love

Spencer keeps his apartment climate-controlled at a brisk sixty-eight degrees Fahrenheit. He likes to be cold, he says, and you generally don’t mind. You run hot anyway, so if, on the off chance you do get cold when you’re lounging around on his couch or perusing his bookshelves, you grab one of the throw blankets Garcia’s knitted for him and wrap it around your shoulders. 

Tonight is different, in that you were not planning on sleeping over. Your relationship with Spencer works so well, in your opinion, because you both like to be independent, so rather than be with each other every moment of every day that he’s home, you orbit around each other like planets. You spend many evenings over at his place, and he spends just as many as yours, but eventually, the other person goes home. 

Not that you didn’t like sleeping in the same bed as Spencer, of course, but the relationship was still fresh, and you both liked that you were taking things slow. Tonight, however, you started a movie with him rather late, and by the time it was over, you were bleary-eyed and your bones felt laden. Spencer was more than willing to offer you the empty side of his bed for the night. 

You arrived in sweatpants and a t-shirt, so you just took your bra off and laid down. Spencer splurged on a fancy orthopedic mattress, so you somehow both sunk into it and rested on top of it like a glass on a table. It was insanely comfortable, and both you and Spencer really were wiped out, so you went right to sleep. 

When your eyes flutter open a few hours, you’re laying on your side. The first thing you notice is that the room is not completely dark. No, in fact, there’s a stream of moonlight, or maybe a street lamp outside, creeping in through the curtains, casting a soft, gray-filtered glow over the room. 

You feel Spencer’s hand loosely on your hip, and his knee resting lightly against the back of your thigh. Your immediate reaction is not to move for fear of waking him, but your feet are icicles. The air around you is cold, too, but the blankets remedy that. You just need socks. 

I am molasses, you coach yourself, moving languidly and carefully to rise into a sitting position. However, you lack the FBI stealth training needed to rise out of bed without waking your boyfriend, because when you look over your shoulder, his eyes are very clearly open. 

There’s a tired yet playful little smirk as he sits up, leaning against the headboard. “Sneaking out already?” he asks, his voice still rich and thick with sleep, and you suddenly wish you’re able to see him like this more often. Maybe this whole going home to go to sleep thing is simply for the birds. 

“No, of course not,” you laugh softly. The mattress creaks as you finally stand up, your bare toes spreading against the soft carpet. As you pad over to his dresser, you shoot him a performative smile over your shoulder. “My feet are just freezing.” 

“Do you want me to adjust the thermostat?” Spencer asks immediately, shifting the blankets off of him so he can, presumably, get out of the bed. 

“No, no, it’s okay,” you insist, holding up your hand. He stops in his place. “It’s just my feet, Spence,” you assure him. The cherry wood creaks when you tug the top drawer open, plucking the first pair of socks you see out off the top. 

Spencer’s mismatched socks are meticulously organized in their correct pairs, as it turns out. You smile to yourself when you realize this means he takes the time each day to couple up an incorrect pair of socks before putting them on his feet. 

You select a pair of purple ones with little kiwi fruits printed on them, affection for the ridiculous man in bed behind you bubbling up in your chest, making it feel as if it’s filled with helium. Like you could float up to the ceiling at any moment. 

You’re still smiling stupidly as you perch yourself on the edge of the bed. You slide his socks over your bare feet, wiggling your toes around for a moment. “Why are you smiling, angel?” Spencer’s asking curiously, and you feel his foot nudge your back. 

You lie back down in the bed, shaking your head softly as you lay on your side and place your head against Spencer’s chest. He takes a second to adjust, slinking down so he’s lying flat on his back, then he tugs you a little closer. 

Your cheek rubs against the soft, worn fabric of his t-shirt. You place your palm down against his flat tummy, and consequently feel his chin press into the top of your head. “What is it?” he asks again. 

“I just think you’re the bee’s knees, that’s all,” you say softly, earning a small chirp of a laugh from your boyfriend. 

“The bee’s knees, huh?” he rakes his fingers through your hair slowly. The action is lulling you like straight melatonin, making you even more tired. “Did you know that phrase actually used to mean something small and insignificant? Over time it developed to refer to something or someone that is greatly admired.” 

You close your eyes, your body relaxing against him as he speaks. “Do bees even have knees?” you ask through a yawn. 

“Technically speaking, no,” Spencer brushes his thumb along your temple, then across the top of your ear, as if he is charting all the smooth parts of you. “But they do have a ball-and-socket joint between their leg segments, which allows them the flexibility to move their little legs around. So when they dance to show their hive mates where the good honey is, they move their legs around.” He laughs softly at this notion, and you feel your weight sink into the mattress. 

“You make me want to dance,” you whisper, smiling with closed eyes against his chest. “So, you’re the bee’s knees.” 

Spencer hums fondly in response to this, then kisses your forehead. “That’s kind of a reach, angel,” he says. “But I think you’re the cat’s pajamas, so who am I to judge?”