#homemade fidgets

[cutiepieautistic]

A full rainbow of colors!!! 🌈♾

[gia-olir]

the ultimate home-made fidget

so, my (self-diagnosed, I'm not sure) ADHD dumbass accidentally broke one of those correction tape-things, yk the ones that u roll and they use a wierd tape to cover any wrong text, right? And so, since I was bored, I took of the other half of the plastic shell and removed the tape and the second gear, and ended up with this fun this to fidget with

it's difficult to use when ur using one hand to record tho, don't judge... btw the lighting is shit bc I'm at my aunt's place rn

[jodee-keating-1983]

Thinking putty, therapeutic putty, stress relieving putty...What ever you want to call it, you can now make it yourself for less! Our homemade thinking putty recipe is super easy and fun to make, and we even have fun containers to store it in for anytime use. An awesome tactile sensory experience, our putty slime recipe is perfect for kids and adults. MAKE YOUR OWN HOMEMADE THINKING PUTTY RECIPE

[seumyo]

pregnancy cravings with miya atsumu.

Pregnancy cravings never really made sense to Atsumu. Then again, he never got to the part of anatomy and physiology when he was studying physical therapy before he decided to go pro as a volleyball player.

But that doesn’t mean he isn’t supportive; no, he prided himself on being a great husband. And now, with you, his wife, pregnant with your first child, he was determined to be the most supportive, loving, and accommodating partner ever.

Nothing was going to stand in his way—not distance, not logic, and certainly not impossible cravings.

It started simple. Like it always did.

You wanted a specific pastry from a bakery on the other side of Japan? Done. He booked the fastest delivery service he could find, and when that wasn’t an option, he flew there himself, picked it up, and brought it back.

Talk about rich.

Homemade food? Good thing Osamu had drilled the basics of cooking into him, though he still got yelled at by his twin when he accidentally burned rice. But hey, effort counted, right?

Then, the cravings started getting weird.

You’re sitting on the couch with a blanket over your lap when you look up at him with serious eyes. “I want Osamu’s cooking.”

Atsumu blinked. “Alright, I can ask him—”

“But I don’t want to eat it. You eat it.”

He frowned, confused.

“Huh? Ya want me to eat ‘Samu’s cookin’?”

You nodded. “Yeah.”

Atsumu scratched his head, wondering if this was some kind of test. “And that’s gonna make ya feel better?”

“Yes.”

“… Even if ya don’ eat it?”

“Uh-huh.”

Atsumu blinked. “That doesn’t make no sense.”

“Atsumu, please don’t question me.”

“Yes, Ma’am!” He grabbed his phone and immediately dialed Osamu. “Oi, ‘Samu, I need ya to cook somethin’—no, not for [Name]—for me.” There was silence on the other end before Osamu sighed heavily and reluctantly agreed.

That night, Atsumu sat at the dining table, stuffing his face with his brother’s food while you sat across from him, smiling in satisfaction as you watched. Osamu just did his part as a supportive brother for his twin.

The next day was even worse.

“A seedless mango,” you murmured, rubbing your belly.

...

“A what?”

“A seedless mango. I want it.”

“… [Name], sweetheart, baby, I love ya, but that don’t exist.”

“It does.”

“It doesn’t.”

“I want it.”

Atsumu groaned. “Where am I gonna get a seedless mango?”

“Figure it out, please?”

He spent hours searching online, calling fruit vendors, and even asking Osamu if his suppliers had some secret black market seedless mango (Osamu asked him if a volleyball that was going 120 km/h hit his head).

No luck.

In the end, Atsumu cut up a normal mango, carefully removed every trace of the seed, and handed it to you with a hopeful grin.

You took one look at it and frowned.

“It’s not the same.”

Atsumu wanted to cry.

-

“I need you to wear a face mask.”

Atsumu blinked at you from your bed. “Huh? Why?”

You huffed quietly, fidgeting with the sheets. “Because your face is annoying.”

Atsumu gasped, hand clutching his chest. “My face?! The one ya love so much?!”

“Yes.”

“The one ya vowed to look at forever in sickness and in health?!”

“Yes.”

“The one ya called ‘beautiful’ when I asked ya if I was hotter than ‘Samu?!”

“I love you, but right now, your face is irritating me.”

Atsumu stared, utterly betrayed, before sighing in defeat. He got up, went to the closet, grabbed one of the disposable masks he’d bought during flu season, and put it on.

“There. Happy now?”

You smiled sweetly. “Very.”

Atsumu flopped onto the bed with a groan, pulling the blanket over himself. As he lay there, sulking, you scooted closer and rested your head on his chest.

“I love you, you know that?” you murmured.

He grumbled. “Ya sure? Feels like ya hate me sometimes.”

You chuckled. “No, I love you. My hormones just don’t.”

He sighed. “Yer so lucky I love ya more than life.”

“I know. Pregnancy is so weird.”

And the worst has yet to come.

-

Atsumu should be asleep by now, but no, he had to be individually popping popcorn. One kernel at a time, as per your request.

He initially told you, “Yer kiddin’.”

You were not.

And that was how Atsumu found himself in the kitchen at three in the morning, painstakingly popping one kernel at a time in a tiny pan. Every time he accidentally popped more than one, you, who were sitting on a stool with your hands on your belly, would click your tongue disapprovingly.

“You put in two, Atsumu.”

“This is torture,” he grumbled, but he kept going.

-

“I want ice cream,” you said.

Atsumu perked up. “Oh, easy. What flavor?”

“I don’t know.”

He tilted his head to the side. “Uh… okay. I can get a few different kinds?”

“I need to taste them all.”

Atsumu frowned. “Like… all the flavors?”

“Yes.”

“… Babe, there are like fifty flavors at the ice cream shop.”

You nodded. “And I need to taste all of them before I decide which one I want.”

Atsumu let out a long, suffering sigh, but being the devoted husband he was, he marched straight to the ice cream parlor and ordered a ridiculous amount of sample cups. The poor employee stared at him in disbelief.

“You… want every flavor?”

“Yeah.”

“Every single one?”

“Yeah.”

“Sir, that’s—”

“My wife is pregnant, and if I don’t do this, I might not make it to the end of the week.”

The employee, upon hearing this, immediately started getting to work.

When Atsumu got home, you took one spoonful of each, nodded, and, after going through every single cup, announced:

“I don’t want ice cream anymore.”

Atsumu fell to his knees. Defeated.

-

“I need you to stand in the corner for a while.”

Atsumu looked up from his phone, confused. “Huh?”

“The corner. Stand there.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. I just feel like you should.”

Atsumu squinted. “Babe, are ya makin’ me into a damn decoration?”

You nodded. “Yes.”

Atsumu sighed but did it anyway. He stood in the corner of your living room for a full ten minutes while you sat on the couch, happily watching TV. At some point, Osamu FaceTimed him, took one look at the scene, and hung up.

-

The next day, you called him while he was at practice, which was rare in itself because you did just leave messages whenever you knew he was practicing.

“Babe,” you said in a tone that made his stomach drop.

“… Yeah?”

“I need you to bring me a cheeseburger.”

He let out a relieved laugh, wiping the sweat off his brow. “That’s easy! I’ll grab ya one on my way ho—“

“But replace the buns with pancakes.”

Atsumu froze. “Come again?”

“You heard me.”

“I dunno if I did, sweetheart.”

“Pancakes. Instead of buns. Oh, and I want honey to go with it.”

Atsumu nearly dropped his phone.

“Yer messin’ with me.”

“I’m really not.”

And you weren’t. That evening, he stood in the kitchen, flipping pancakes with the precision of a professional chef before assembling the most unholy creation he’d ever laid eyes on—a cheeseburger with pancake buns, honey drizzled over the meat.

You took a bite and hummed softly. “Oh my god, this is better than sex.”

Atsumu, who had spent hours perfecting his technique in the bedroom, felt personally offended by that.

-

“Atsumu,” you murmur. “I need you to switch sides of the bed with me.”

He sighed. “No.”

“Atsumu.”

“[Name], baby, darlin’—I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because my side is closer to the door in case of an intruder.”

You chuckled quietly. “Tsumu, please. I need to sleep on that side.”

Atsumu stared at you, conflicted. He had never—not once—slept on the other side. It was unnatural. Wrong. It went against the very foundations of your marriage.

But you were looking at him with those tired, hormonal, pleading eyes. And he was sure you’d tell him you could barely see your feet now and often experience heartburn, all because of his unborn baby.

With a heavy sigh, Atsumu switched sides with you.

“You’re a good husband,” you whispered, patting his cheek.

Atsumu, lying in the unfamiliar position, staring at the wrong wall, whispered, “I’m a broken man.”

SEUMYO © 2025. PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[gaypirate420]

Gift // Viktor.

Viktor x gender neutral!reader.

Summary: You give Viktor a very special gift.

Fluff.

Swoooosh.

Viktor's brown fluffy hair flies as Jayce maneuvers with the prototype of their next Hextech tool. Swinging it around like it's weightless.

"Don't you want to give it a try, Vik?" Jayce asks between swings at the paler man, holding the hammer towards his direction at the end. Viktor's amber gaze looks at the thing up and down and shakes his head, he runs a lazy hand to brush his hair.

"I don't think I'll be able to lift it." Viktor mutters with a dry chuckle. Jayce laughs softly and nods. The small click of the door opening makes the two men look over.

"Is there any dangerous science thingy going on?" You ask as you peep your head inside. Jayce smirks at how fast Viktor takes his cane and stands up, a soft whine leaves him as he limps over to the door, opening it wider for you.

"No, miláčku." Viktor spoke softly, a faint smile adorning his tired face. You smiled and stepped inside, you were holding two bags. You pressed a soft kiss on the Zaunite's lips, making him feel weak at the knees immediately.

"Hello, boy genius." You whisper with a small smirk on your face, the pale man smiled widely, a soft pink blush adorning his cheeks, he whispered a greeting.

"Greetings, Jayce." You smiled as you greeted the taller man with a small wave who stood there fidgeting with the hammer, pretending not to be the third wheel the second you came in.

"Hey." Jayce nods his head, he puts the hammer down and starts walking away a little not-so discretely to escape the tenderness of you and Vitkor.

"Wait, wait!" You called, the taller man stopped and looked at you, Viktor tilts his head. You smiled and walked further inside.

"I know you two have been working hard, so I brought you a little something." You spoke softly, both men smiled and walked closer to you as you placed your bags on top of a free desk.

"For Jayce. I made some garlic bread because I know you liked it when you had dinner with us last time." You slice a small container to Jayce's side, the taller man smiled widely, his mouth watering.

"Thank you so much!" He spoke excitedly before leaving you and Viktor alone. You chuckled and looked over to your partner whose amber eyes try to peek inside the bag.

"First, some homemade cookies and sweet milk." You spoke softly, taking out the bottle and container. The pale man smiled and his cheeks got even redder, he opened the bottle and took a sip of the sweet milk, it felt so comforting on his empty stomach.

"And, I was practicing my crotchet and found a very peculiar pattern. I thought it was cute." You explain as you took something else out of the bag.

Viktor's golden eyes widen.

"I'm not sure if it's a hundred percent accurate to the real one." You giggled nervously as you showed the pink crotchet plushie to the inventor. He placed the bottle down, his pale hands taking the plushie like it was something so delicate. Like a baby or an antique.

"...Rio." He mumbled ever so softly as he stared at the chubby little thing. His fingers fiddled with the crochet anathenas, the tail. The Zaunite blinks a couple of times and looks back at you.

"It looks like Rio." He speaks a little louder, his voice laced with vulnerability. Your smile softens as you watch Viktor holding the plushie closer to his chest, you nodded.

The Zaunite holds the small creature close, his fingers caressing each crochet delicately.

"You have a great talent for these things, moje lásko." He speaks softly against the plushies head. You smiled softly, your eyes couldn't tear apart from this tender scene. You two stayed in a comfortable silence, Viktor roamed through the plushie, cuddling and whispering things in his native tongue.

He looked up at you, his amber eyes with a new shine you've never seen before.

"Does that mean you liked it?" You ask with a faint smirk. The Zaunite laughs and nods, he leans closer and presses a soft kiss on your forehead.

"I love it very much. It will never leave my side." He whispers softly. His stomach growls, breaking the tender moment. A soft giggle escapes your lips, making Vitkor smile wider. The sound of your laughter was always appreciated by him.

"I think you need those cookies, love." You mutter with a smirk, he nods with a chuckle.

"Eh- yes." He whispers with a soft red tint on his cheeks.

"And a nap." You add quickly, maybe he'll say yes this time. Viktor tries to argue but the soft plushie on his arms is compelling him to cuddle it.

"Also yes." He mumbles. You smile and take the cookie box and sweet milk, almost running towards the couch that lays in a corner of the lab. The inventor smiles softly, taking his cane and following behind you at a slower pace.

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

Jayce footsteps approached the lab. It's been a little over an hour, he enjoyed the bread and was ready to return to his work with a clear mind.

He opened the door, made a few steps towards his desk before turning to his right, finding Viktor's desk empty. He looked around the lab before laying eyes on the couch.

Viktor was laying down, a blanket around his slender body, his head on your lap and eyes closed. The taller man spotted the chubby pink plushie on the Zaunite's arms.

His eyes fall on you, mindlessly stroking Viktor's head, your eyes on him, like you're trying to burn this image into your memory. Your head lifts when you hear Jayce's step closer, a soft warmth creeps on your cheeks.

The taller man laughed softly, he waved his hand trying to tell you that everything was alright. He stared at his peacefully asleep lab partner before turning around with silent steps, making his way out of the lab again.

If Viktor can nap with his partner then nothing stops him from looking for Mel.

A/N:(Request are open)Surprise supriseeeeeee. Hello, I have returned to the arcane fandom. I hope y'all enjoyed this little fic, it's been a while since I wrote for Viktor so I'm a little rusty.(Divider)

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

"ahh… that was a close call."

the wind nips at your skin. you're held in place, supported by a larger build — his arm looped around your body, steady, as the curse in front of you wails, fizzles and swirls into an orb on his open palm.

geto cradles it, for a moment. a perfect marble. it’s pocketed, swiftly, as he helps you stand up.

"t-thank you."

a smile. when he lets go, you almost stumble. unsteady on your feet; embarrassed, because a second-grade shouldn't have spelled any trouble for you. you're familiar with techniques of concealment, but you still didn't see it coming, and the gash from its sharp talons would have been in your flesh by now if your classmate hadn't reacted — a splat of crimson on the cobblestone of the temple grounds.

"you should be more careful," he hums, and you wonder if he knows how much it stings. he must, because his next words are softer, a kind tilt of his head. "are you alright?"

"yeah," a shallow breath. "i'm fine."

a breeze curls around your spine, counts the vertebrae. cold. goosegumbs blooming across skin. you shiver, hugging your midriff with your arms in a pitiful attempt to shield it from the evening air sneaking in through the torn shreds of your uniform, sharp cuts through sturdy polyester. you'll have to ask for a new one, but that's a problem for later — right now, you just feel exposed.

geto parts his lips, a silent oh.

then he reaches for the golden button right above his heart. you watch him fidget with it, until he's slipped it through the gap, his own uniform unbuttoned — the soft muscles of his arms twitching idly as he lifts them enough to take it off. you've never thought of what he wears under it, if he wears anything at all. the button-up beneath shields you from those improper thoughts, a pure, uncreased white.

"here."

when you look up, he's got the jacket folded over his wrist.

offering it to you.

"… are you sure?" you ask, with mismatched blinks, meekly receiving the bundle of black cloth. geto nods, still smiling. "won't you get cold?"

"i'll be fine," he insists. "it's a little big, but it should keep you warm."

under the shade of the plum tree behind him, its branches flecked with burgundy, buds long past bursting into soft, foam-like blossoms, the brown of his eyes is barely visible. they're dark, abyssal, something like the surface of a frozen lake.

but still warm. somehow.

(you're long past agonizing over why it is you feel so safe around him.)

geto turns around, his broad shoulders on full display — the expanse of his back, the skin at the nape of his neck, loose strands of ink-black sticking out from his bun. he slips his hands into his pockets, and hums:

"you can change. i won't look."

your heartbeat sputters. it's not like you don't believe him — he's not like gojo or shoko, geto can be trusted with things like this — but it's still embarrassing. cautiously, you eye his uniform, held in place against your chest. standard, smooth fabric, a night sky expanse kind of black to hide bloodstains and grime. geto's is clean, though. geto doesn’t bleed at all.

(a boy blessed by god. favoured by the world. that's what your parents would have called him.)

with a shake of your head, you discard the thought — the voice in your head saying he's not even from a clan and he's still better than you, isn’t that funny? just turning around, sheepishly, finding it hard to look at him. glancing left and right, just to be safe, but no one. gojo still isn't back. a stroke of luck; you'd rather not have him see you in such a shabby state.

you're glad it was geto.

once you've shrugged off your tattered uniform, all that remains is to drape yourself in his own. and you do; you stick your arms through the gaps, fix the collar, and button it up. it's warm, soft, you're practically drowning in it, waves of polyester like a blanket around your shoulders — and it smells like him. rich and sweet, a hint of something earthy, homemade herbs and wooden oil. laundry detergent. it makes heat bloom at the nape of your neck, a pinprick, the feeling of him surrounding you.

when you turn to look at him, his back is still facing you. you wonder what he's thinking about.

"i'm done."

geto was right, you think. it is big on you. the hem cuts off right above your knees, the sleeves dwarfing your hands and slipping down your wrists when you lift them up to rub the dust from your eyes. it makes you feel smaller than you really are, somewhat shy.

but it feels nice. nuzzling against the collar, absently, a soft smile blooms on your lips — tuft-like petals dancing just behind you, with the swaying of the evening air. you inhale it, taste the sweetness, burnt incense and clusters of soon-to-be fruit.

with gentle eyes, you lift your head, and there he stands. just watching you. watching your lips part.

"thank you, geto-kun."

the words fizzle out in the space between you.

the boy before you offers no response. he stands there, strangely silent, like a marble statue — eyes wide, for a moment, looking you over, up and down, you can see his gaze stray — before finding its way back to your own. his adam's apple bobs.

(is that a flush to his ears?)

"ah," he clears his throat, regaining his ability to speak, a raised fist covering the parting of his lips. "— it's no trouble at all. as long as you're comfortable…”

"i am," you quip. "it smells good."

a moment passes. geto angles his head to the left, away from you, breathing in through his nose.

"i'm… glad."

in the shadows of the trees, the wide temple gate, his neck simmers cherry-pink.

(your cheeks bloom with heat.)

for a moment, neither of you speak. the air feels thick with something, a pleasant awkwardness, the tips of your fingers still buzzing with warmth. finally, he speaks; seemingly composed, a mask slipping back into its rightful place; eyes crescented, half-moons.

"we should head back, then." he turns towards the stairway, leading back to the village, meeting your gaze with a seamless smile. "are you hungry?"

you follow him, pliantly, as he begins his descent. the view from the top of the mountain is breathtaking, clusters of trees parting to expose riverbeds on the ground below, tiny wooden houses, fields of golden wheat; the silhouette of a cityscape at the edge of the horizon. a sparrow takes flight overhead, singing softly. the breeze ruffles your hair, smooths geto's bangs out of the way, gives you a good look at his pupil, the deep sea of cedar surrounding it — flecks of amber, like the first spark of a match catching aflame. when you don't answer, it catches your stare.

"um — a little bit," you sputter. averting your gaze.

geto smiles. you can hear it in his voice, honey-slicked and sweet. "let's stop by a restaurant, then. the one by the station didn't look so bad."

"… sure."

the stairway's steps give out a crunch, when your feet make contact, soiled by dirt and gravel, patches of grass breaking through the slate. you're careful not to lose your balance, with nothing for you to hold on to — nothing but the ripped uniform in your arms, his sleeves, the added length nothing but a distraction. you exhale, softly, fidgeting with the hem.

"… it's a little embarrassing to be seen like this, though…"

a humoured breath. geto turns to look at you. ”you have nothing to be embarrassed about," he reassures you, a solid quality to the intonation of his voice. with the way he's speaking, you could almost believe him; his gaze mulling you over, softening, something breezy to the smile on his lips when his lips part. "really."

… it only makes you feel more exposed.

once you finally reach the end of the trail, feet finding solace on steady ground, a head of white hair crosses your vision. he must have been waiting for you to get back — black frames catching the light of the sun just before it disappears behind molten clouds, blinding your eyes to anything else. gojo, watching the sky. when you take that final step, entering his line of vision, he snaps his gaze towards you.

"suguruuu…" he whines, turning on his heel to face you. you linger behind, letting geto take the lead, watching as your classmate strolls closer. "what's the deal with this place? the gashapons were all —"

a pause, when his gaze falls on your frame. slides down to your uniform, and then back up, to meet your eyes. he glances at geto, the white of his shirt.

for a moment, his expression is blissfully blank.

then he grins.

"… oh?"

heat sparks at the tips of your fingers, the sides of your neck, all the way to the shells of your ears — gojo looks delighted, looking back and forth between you and geto like a toddler deciding between two bags of candy. it makes you feel small, but geto only rolls his eyes, bumps his shoulder against yours; a gentle, silent don't mind him.

when he walks past his friend, he mutters something, just under his breath.

"shut up."

[hoshifighting]

Making homemade porn videos with dk..? 👀

I LOVE UR WRITING AND UR NEW THEMEEEE

homemade porn with seokmin

WARNINGS: smut, porn, penetrative sex, spit used as lube, dirty talks, hair pulling, recording sex, praising

“are you sure about this?” seokmin’s voice comes out a little wobbly, his hands fidgeting with the hem of his shirt as he watches you set up the tripod. he’s already blushing—of course he is—but the way his eyes keep darting between your face and the camera.. yeah, he’s a little too into this for someone acting shy.

“i’m the one who suggested it, dummy,” you tease, adjusting the angle of your phone. the way you’re bending over to check the framing isn’t exactly innocent, and when you glance back at him, he’s got his bottom lip caught between his teeth, hands frozen mid-fidget.

“you look good already,” he blurts out, then immediately slaps a hand over his mouth like he wasn’t supposed to say it out loud.

“yeah? you think the camera’s gonna love me?”

“the camera,” he echoes, his gaze dragging down your body like he’s already undressing you in his head, “and me. definitely me.”

you roll your eyes, grabbing his shirt and tugging him closer until he’s flush against you. his hands are all over you, warm and eager, sliding under your shirt and pulling it off with a little too much enthusiasm. “oh my god, wait,” he says suddenly, his hands freezing mid-movement. “do i, like, pose? or—”

“seokmin,” you laugh, your hands cupping his jaw to pull him into a kiss, effectively shutting him up. he melts into it quickly, groaning into your mouth when your hands slide under his waistband.

the kiss breaks with a gasp, and when you glance at the camera, the red light is still blinking. “you’re doing so well, baby,” you coo, your voice dripping with sweetness.

his ears go red, but he grins, his confidence kicking in as he steps back to pull his shirt off in one smooth motion. “think the camera’s getting my good side?”

“all your sides are good,” you shoot back, but your teasing falters when he reaches for your shorts, his fingers slow and deliberate as he slides them down your hips.

“you’re so pretty,” he murmurs, his voice quieter now, reverent. “like, seriously. it’s unfair.”

seokmin’s breath is hot against your ear, his hands firm on your hips as he pulls you closer, bending you over the edge of the bed with a teasing chuckle. “you’re gonna look so good on camera.”

you shiver, the weight of his words making your knees weak, but he doesn’t let you collapse just yet. his palm glides down your spine, before he stops to spread you open with his hands.

“stay still,” he commands softly, and then—spit.

the sound is obscene, deliberate, and you gasp when it lands, cool and wet, right on your entrance, the spit glistening on your pussy. his fingers move to spread it around, teasing you in lazy circles until you’re arching back into his touch, whining.

“needy already?” he taunts, one hand grabbing a fistful of your hair to yank your head back gently. the stretch makes you gasp, and he leans in closer, his lips brushing your ear as he laughs. “you better give the mic something to pick up, baby.”

he doesn’t wait for a response—just lines himself up and pushes in, letting the stretch pull a desperate moan from you. but it’s seokmin, and he never stays sweet for long. his hips snap forward, hard, and your gasp echoes through the room. “there it is,” he groans. his grip on your hair tightens, and he pulls just enough to tilt your head back, forcing you to look at the camera. “you hear yourself, huh? you sound so pretty. think they’ll hear that wet little noise when I do this?”

he thrusts harder, angling his hips so the slap of skin fills the room, the camera capturing every second. your hands grip the sheets for dear life, your moans spilling out uncontrollably as he keeps hitting that perfect spot, over and over. “moan for me, baby,” he demands, his voice rough and strained, “louder. let me hear you.” when you don’t immediately comply, his free hand slides around your waist, pressing down on your stomach to make you feel everything. “c’mon,” he coos, “don’t be shy. it’s just me and the camera.”

his teasing, his relentless thrusts, the filthy noises—it’s too much. you cry out, and he rewards you with a low, guttural moan in your ear. “fuck, that’s it,” he groans. “you sound so fucking good, baby. can’t wait to watch this later, see how fucking ruined you look.” his words send a thrill down your spine, and you clench around him, pulling a choked gasp from his lips. “you like that?” he rasps, his hips stuttering slightly as he adjusts his grip on your hair. “you’re so fucking tight—shit. gonna make me cum just thinking about this later.”

the thought of him rewatching this—watching you cum on his cock, hearing your desperate moans—has him thrusting even harder, his moans spilling out freely now. and when he finally pulls you up, flush against his chest, one hand gripping your jaw to force you to look into the camera, you’re both so far gone that you don’t even care how loud you’re being anymore.

[woodland-gremlin]

Meeting the Kids

Today was the day that Dick’s boyfriend, Danny, would be introducing him to his three kids. He has heard so much about the gremlin trio that he could recite how Danny adopted them and what they are like forwards and backwards in his sleep at this point. And as he fidgeted outside of his boyfriend’s apartment in Fawcett that was exactly what he did.

Ellie is Danny’s biological daughter that was officially put under his guardianship when he was emancipated at 17, but unofficially he has been watching over her for much longer. She is the oldest of the three, being 11. Exploring and causing untold amounts of chaos, usually with her two younger brothers, is her bread and butter in life. Will not hesitate to turn that controlled chaos onto you if you hurt her family, if the stories of what she does to her sperm donor is an indication. Tales of all the places he has traveled when he was in the circus and stress he has caused Bruce at galas are his best bet to not getting pelted with glitter the moment he walks in the door.

Billy is the most recent addition to the family after living on the streets for the last few years. He is the middle child at 10 years old. Being forced into foster care, which is a death sentence according to Jason, and living on the streets, which is apparently better than foster care (again according to Jason), has made him vary of adults. The only reason he trusted Danny enough to be adopted, was through a long campaign of food, a safe place to sleep that he could leave at any time, the other kids, and a few private emotional moments. From the stories he is a sweet kid whose swearing could make a sailor blush. He brought some of Alfred’s homemade food and stories of Jason for him.

Damian was taken in 6 years ago when Danny was 19. His birth family was in a cult, raising him as its heir before trying to sacrifice him to some higher being, when Danny found him. Even with the ruff start he is very in touch with his home country’s culture, Danny even getting in touch with people from his culture to teach the whole family so they can better understand and respect it. He is the youngest of the trio at 9 and loves animals. He has also seemingly inherited Danny’s adoption tendencies when it comes to said animals. He is also the most likely to challenge him to a duel for Danny’s honor, he does it to every potential partner of Danny's, much less one actually dating him. Mentions of Batcow while accepting said duel should help Damian at least tolerate him.

All three of them are the stars of Danny’s life. Dick has heard all about the bullshit Danny gets for being a father of three, two which are in the double digits, at 25 and how protective the Nightingale family is of each other. And that isn’t even counting his older sister, who he has met over the phone, and all the others claimed extended family. How often Danny has broken up with his partners over the kids or said kids driving out those partners if they didn’t think that they were good enough for their dad. So, no Jason, he wasn’t being paranoid, considering that they ran the last one out in tears, covered in neon, biodegradable glitter and paint, he was being practical!

What Dick did not know was that as he was panicking and making plans the gremlin trio was making their own plans. Plans of his demise.

[hadersversion]

‘tis the damn season.

“so we could call it even, you could call me babe for the weekend.”

pairing: rafe cameron x pogue! reader

warnings: 18+, SMUT, p in v, fingering, begging, overstimulation, use of babe....let me know if i forget anything lol. ALSO in some places in america, thansgiving eve is literally just a holiday to get drunk in your hometown

your home for the holidays for the first time in years. you've been avoiding rafe, the reason you've been away for so long, but after seeing him again all the old feelings come back. when rafe sends a text one night, you end up in the back of his truck like old times.

i parked my car out front of my childhood home, staring at the old exterior.

somethings never change.

being back in the outer banks felt strange. it has been a while since i have been back, avoiding come home for as long as i can. but with a few begging phone calls from my mom and kiara, here i am.

i knock on my front door and am greeted with a bright smile.

"jj?" i ask, confused.

"welcome home, stranger." he says, with a hug and grabbing my bag.

i walk into my living room and see the pogues, sitting with my mom. a homemade 'welcome home' banner hanging above their heads.

my mom comes over and gives me a big hug. "i thought i would never see this face again." she says with a squeeze.

"boston isn't that far, mom." i tell her but i know she would never leave the outer banks. never in a million years. i turn towards the others and smile. "i wonder who could've put this together?" i say, looking at kiara.

"hey it wasn't all me, pope was the one who brought it up." she says, engulfing me in her arms.

"guilty." pope chimes in, joining the hug. i feel jj and john b join in as well. my family.

we break away and hang out in the living room, catching up.

"don't tell me you went all city on us, y/n." john b pokes fun at me.

"not completely. but it is nice having more things to do than hang on the beach and smoke." i wink.

"who could want more than that?" jj asks, making us all laugh.

"speaking of," kiara starts. "there's a little thanksgiving eve celebration happening at the wreck. just some people from high school. nothing big."

"just a chance to get drunk of our asses and go to dinner the next day hungover." jj says, causing kiara to nudge him.

"what do you say? want to join us?" i look around the room at my friends, all eager waiting for my response. with a sigh, i nod and they all cheer. "thank god, i don't think i could've done that alone."

i smile and nod. it should be fun, it will be. but my brain can't help to wonder if the one person who's kept me away from coming home will be there. no, he wouldn't. not with the pogues. but a part of me can't help but hope to see his face.

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

i fix my sweater in the mirror in my room, my body fidgeting from anxiety. it's been a few days and i still can't shake that feeling from my body about being home. sure, i'm happy but this place holds so many memories. memories i wish to bury. i stare at the photo booth picture tucked into my mirror of him and i. i guess i forgot to hide this with the rest of the stuff. i take it off the mirror and sigh, examining it.

almost four years since it was taken. almost four years since we called it quits. and yet, he still haunts my memories. his presence making itself known through cheap beer at the bar, expensive men's cologne at the mall, exhaust that leaves motorbikes as they ride down the street. he's always there, whether i like it or not.

the sound of a horn breaks me free of my thoughts.

"y/n, they're here!" my mom calls from downstairs.

"coming!" i open my dresser drawer and slip the photo in before racing downstairs. i kiss my mom on the cheek and slip out the door, rushing into the van.

"ready to get fucked up?" jj asks with his devilish smirk.

i roll my eyes and laugh. "let's go."

we pull up to the wreck, it's already dark outside and a slight breeze fills the air. we all hurry in, greeted by familiar faces. my name is called from every direction, old friends from high school or the beach. all my fellow pogues who i know and love. when i'm done making my rounds, i head over to our table. everyone has some drink in their hand, beer or cocktail, and they all smile up at me.

"who would've though little y/n y/l/n would be a pogue celebrity?" pope jokes.

i flip him off and slide in next to john b. kiara hands me a beer and i take a sip. "i'm not a celebrity, i'm just one of the only people from this island who actually made it off."

they all make jokes at my despair, teasing me in any way they could when sarah walks up. i feel my stomach flip and i smile at her. "y/n!" she embraces me. "i'm so happy to see you!"

i hug her back and smile. "me too, sar. how's everything been?"

"the usual but i can't complain." she sits next to me and lays her head on my shoulder. "it's been forever."

"it has." i sigh. "it really has."

we all share stories and laugh around the table. we take shots, chug beer, and play different drinking games. just like old times sake.

"i need another beer." i say with a slight slur in my voice, standing up. "anyone else?" everyone shakes their head as i excuse myself.

i walk up to the bar and wait my turn, twirling my debit card in my hand. it could be the alcohol but i feel content and happy to be home.

"y/n?"

until that moment.

i don't want to turn around, i don't even want to accept my fate in this situation.

i know that voice, i could recognize it in a crowd of millions of people. it was the voice that lingered in my dreams, my thoughts.

i turn around and look at the man.

"rafe."

he looks older, his hair buzzed and some facial hair covering his face. but those eyes. they are the same eyes of the boy i loved.

we stood there, not saying a word. just taking the sight of one another in.

"i didn't know you were home." he says, not breaking eye contact.

i nod, biting my lip. "i am, i got home monday."

he chuckles to himself and shakes his head. "how long you here for?"

"till saturday. then i'm going back to boston." my throat feels scratchy and my face is on fire. i want to be anywhere but here now.

his eyes continue to study me. "two more budweiser's, please." he says to the bartender. i open my mouth to protest but he shakes his head. "on me, think of it as a welcome home gift."

the bartender hands me the beer and i smile. i turn back to rafe and tip the bottle to him. "thanks."

"no problem." he clinks his bottle to mine. we both take a long sip. my eyes are desperately trying to find a place to land, ending up on the bright sign above the bar. but rafe's are still on me.

"you okay?" kiara asks as she walks behind rafe. she is my gurdian angel.

"yeah, just waiting for my beer. excuse me." i squeeze past rafe and walk back to my table. i look back at him and smiles. i hate him.

a few drinks more and my ears are ringing. it was loud and everyone was far too drunk. i excuse myself for air outside. there are a few people lingering, smoking cigarettes or waiting for ubers. i smile and take in the nostalgia.

"you know, it would've been nice to know you were home." i hear rafe's voice next to me.

i roll my eyes and look up at him. "oh, would it have been? sorry, i didn't think you'd care." i say coldly. that liquid courage is taking control.

he looks down at me. "and why would i have not cared?"

"hmm, let me think." i put my finger to my chin. "oh, right. 'don't ever contact me again. we're so over. i wish i never met you. blah. blah. blah.' do you want me to go on?" i say to him.

i watch as he processes what i said to him, the words of our last fight. he looks guilty, for once in his life. "that was years ago, y/n. w-we were just kids."

"oh, really? then why haven't i heard from you for the past few years? phone works both ways, rafe." i say, shrugging.

he stands there quietly, i got him.

"how's school been?" he asks, nonchalantly.

"are you for real?" i ask.

"what? i'm being nice." he says.

i huff with frustration. "you are such an ass." i push pass him and walk onto the sidewalk.

"where are you going?" he asks, following after me.

"away from you." i say, not looking back.

i hear him run up behind me and he gently grabs my arm. "y/n. y/n, stop."

i turn to look at him. "what do you want from me, huh? you want to torture me even more?"

he stares at me, hand still on my arm. "what? of course not. y/n, i missed you."

"fuck off." i spit out without thinking.

"you're drunk."

"and you're an asshole." i say, flatly. "you...you fucking broke my heart and you expect me to act like everything is fucking dandy?"

"y/n." he tries to plead his case.

"no, rafe. you don't get to waltz in here and act like everything is okay with us. do you know how much you fucked me over? one day you're telling me you love me and you want to move to boston with me and the next, you're dumping me over the phone." i poke his chest. "i did everything you wanted, i kept what we had between us a secret, i took care of you. and nothing was enough for you."

he looks down at his feet in guilt. "i-i know, i'm sorry. i was...i was fucked up back then. with my dad on my case and the drinking...i wasn't okay. i felt like..." he cut himself off.

"what, rafe? you felt like, what?" i ask.

"like i was going to hold you back, alright?" he raises his voice. "you are too good for this place, for me. i didn't want to hold you back. i loved you too much to do that to you." i stare at him and laugh. "what? what's so fucking funny?"

"you, rafe. you." i sigh. "instead of being a man and handling your emotions, you ran and hid. we could've worked that out. but you were too scared." i close my eyes and shake my head. "goodbye, rafe."

i walk down the street, hugging my body as the wind blows. a weight has been lifted off my shoulders but there's still that feeling i get whenever i think of him. that feeling that i miss him.

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

thanksgiving flew by, even though i had a hangover that felt like it would last a lifetime.

i helped my mom clean up the kitchen as the pogues did the dishes and took the trash out. just like old times.

once we were done, we sat outside around the bonfire. you would think after yesterday, drinking would come to a halt but jj found a bottle of vodka in the freezer and mixed it with kiara's apple cider. we all enjoyed each other's company but my mind could not help but wander. my last conversation with rafe ringing through my head.

"instead of being a man and handling your emotions, you ran and hid."

i shake my head and take a sip of my spiked cider. as much as it rang true, there was still that part of me that wonders 'what if?'. the more i thought about it, the more i wanted to pick up my phone.

no, i need to be the bigger person. i'm stronger than that. i can't text him first.

then i felt my phone buzz in my lap.

rafe: hey

i stare at the text and bite my lip. i know i should ignore it, let it go unread. but my fingers work against my brain and type 'hi' back to him. i sit there, eagerly waiting for a response.

rafe: can we talk?

rafe: i'm sorry about last night, i'm a fucking idiot.

rafe: there's so many things i could say to you rn

rafe: but i miss you.

rafe: i wanna see you.

i look around at my friends and sigh, they would be so mad at me for this.

y/n: sure, give me like an hour.

y/n: park down the street at the usual spot.

my friends leave my house, mainly due to me faking another wave of hungover puking. i run upstairs and check myself out in the mirror, i look damn good. when i get his text, i sneak out the backdoor and hurry down the street. i see his truck parked under the big tree, the spot he always parked in.

i open the truck door and hop into the passenger seat. i look over at him, he's still in his dressy clothes. a blue polo that hugged his arms right and khakis that made his thighs look exceptionally big. he knew what he was doing and i can't tell if i hate him or love him for it.

we drive in silence for a bit, his radio playing music faintly. his hands grip the steering wheel as his mind looks like he's on another planet. i play with the ends of my sweatshirt, anxiously waiting for him to do something. anything.

he pulls up to the beach, the spot where we would always come to. it was dark and the waves crashed against the shore loudly. he turns the car off and looks over at me.

"thanks for meeting me." he says simply.

"sure."

"i'm sorry about last night. you went out to have fun and i ruined it, i know i did."

i just nod at him.

"and...you were right. about it all." he sighs, running his hands over his face. "i should've manned up, talked to you about how i was feeling. but you know how i get. i get too in my head and just jump to conclusions. it wasn't fair to you." he looks into my eyes. "these past few years without you have been a living hell and i have only myself to blame."

"are you drunk? high?" i ask.

"w-what?"

"are you not sober?" i ask again.

"i'm sorry, what? of course i'm fucking sober." he says. "why would i not be?"

"rafe cameron...taking accountability? i'm sorry, it just seems so...foreign?" i laugh.

"i'm being serious, y/n."

i laugh again. "oh, i'm sure. and...the sky is green. we live on the planet pluto. aliens exist and so do unicorns!"

he pinches the bridge of his nose. "y/n, i'm telling the truth! god, you always joke around."

"yeah, because i know you." i say to him. "and you would rather eat concrete than admit you are wrong."

"eat concrete?" he asks, with a smirk.

"you know what i mean!" i huff with frustration.

he grabs my hand and stares in my eyes. "y/n, i am fully sober. we are not in another universe, it is not opposite day. i was wrong and i am sorry."

my brain malfunctions as i look into his eyes. "y-you mean it?"

"every word i said."

my brain not working means i experienced a lack of better judgment. i grab rafe by his collar and connect our lips for the first time in years. this kiss, the one i have longed for since i left this place, was the missing puzzle piece i've been searching for in my life. everything seemed to make sense again.

his hands cupped my cheeks as his tongue slipped into my mouth. he was hungry for me and i wasn't going to stop him because i felt insatiable as well. his hands roamed from my cheeks down to my neck and onto my shoulders.

i needed more.

i climbed onto his lap and straddled him. my arms connected around his neck as he pressed against me. i felt his cock hard against his khakis and i wanted it. i wanted it all. i rubbed myself against him, causing us both to moan.

he continued to kiss me until he broke away and looked at me. his puffy lips formed a cocky smile as he brushed his nose against mine. "you missed me."

"shut up." i was itching for more.

"admit it, you missed me. you missed the way i made you feel." he states.

"rafe, shut up and kiss me, please."

"ah ah ah." he shook his head. "not until you tell me."

"you're such an ass." i roll my eyes, trying to catch my breathe.

"yet, here you are, rubbing yourself against me in my truck." he says, kissing my cheek. his lips then go to my ear and down my neck. "i want it all with you, right now, babe. but i need to hear it."

"fine! fuck, i missed you. are you happy?" i groan, needing him.

"very. get in the backseat." he demands. i quickly follow his order, hopping in the back over the seats. he gets out of the truck and opens up the back door, sliding in next to me. "come here." he pulls me back onto his lap and we pick up where we left off. i continue to rub myself against him as he sloppily kisses me. "just like old times." he jokes and i hit his shoulder. "c'mon, don't act like you don't think about it."

"oh, i do. but i bet you think about it more than i do." i smirk.

"probably." he laughs. his fingers fall to the hem of my sweater and he plays with it. "now are we only here to kiss or?"

"why? you wanna fuck me in your truck? just like old times." i say, making fun of what he just said.

"i do, i wanna fuck you right here, right now. it's all i've been wanting to do." he kisses my jawline. "do you want me to fuck you?"

this is what i missed the most, our back and forth.

"yes, rafe. i want you to fuck me." i moan out.

with that, he practically rips my sweater off my body and starts to kiss down my chest. his large hands palm my clothed breast. i bite my lip and let my head fall back, missing the way he affected my body. i felt his hand snake around to the back and unclip my bra quickly.

"show off." i say, out of breathe.

i smirks and connects his lips to my nipple, sucking and licking it. his hand massaging my other. "don't pretend you don't like it."

i smirk and shake my head.

he continues to focus on my tits, going back and forth between the two.

"more." i whisper, eyes clenched shut.

"what was that?" he asked in a teasing tone.

"i need more, rafe. please." i beg.

"look at you all needy for me. i knew you missed me." his hand slipped under my jeans and panties, stopping right at my core. i felt his fingers curl inside me, going in and out. "all wet for me, huh? what a good girl." he pushed in, fingering my cunt, when his thumb found my sensitive bud. he added pressure, circling it, and i felt as though i was seeing stars.

"s-shit." i cry out, moving my hips to try and gain some friction.

"feel good, baby? let me hear how could i make you feel." he picked up his pace and a pornographic moan escaped my lips. it's been forever since someone has made me feel this good. rafe knew my body like it was his own, he knew how to get me going. "there we go, like how my fingers feel?"

"u-uh huh." i nod, mouth hanging open.

his fingers worked their magic, rubbing my clit at a pace that'll make me come undone in no time. "love the way you look on top of me, baby. so fucking sexy." he attached his lips to my tits again and continued fingering me.

i felt on fire.

i place one hand on the window and the other on his shoulder, holding on for dear life. the more he whispered about me and the faster his fingers were going, i was cumming on his fingers before i knew it. i rode out my high, screaming his name. once i was done, i felt him pull his fingers out of my pants, my juices getting all over myself. i stared down at him, trying to catch my breathe, as he popped his fingers into his mouth and sucked.

"just as good as i remember." he cleaned his fingers off and kissed me again. my hands ran down his buff chest and stopped at the bottom of his polo, lifting it up. his gold chain laid against his chiseled body, he was perfect. i felt as though i was in a trance as i began to kiss down his chest. i could feel his groans vibrating in his chest and i smirked because i was the one making him feel this way. "i need to fuck you."

"you need to?" i laugh, kissing lower and lower.

"yes, y/n. i need to bury myself inside of you, please." he pleaded.

"i like when you're the one begging." i bite him lightly, causing him to hiss.

"i bet."

i unbuttoned his khakis and sat up so he could slip them off. his grey boxers were discolored from the precum leaking off his cock. he took his underwear off and his cock sprung out. "i-i don't have protection." he said, mentally cursing himself out.

"well, are you clean?" i ask.

"yes. i-i haven't been with anyone since." he openly admitted.

i felt the darkness overtake my eyes as i lower myself down onto him. his breath hitched as he slipped all the way in. he was deep inside of me, causing a few tears to leave my eyes. but the pain subsided as he started to rock my hips with his hands, moving me back and forth. i picked up the rhythm he started with me and placed my hands on his shoulder to steady myself. i felt the truck rocking back and forth as i did so.

his hands found my ass and rested there. "fuck, i missed your pussy. so good, takes me so well." he kissed my chest as i grinded back and forth.

i felt my finger nails dig into his shoulder as his cock hit all the right spots. i looked down at him and he stared at me in awe, like i was some work of art. "fuck, rafe. you're so big."

i bite my lip as i let my head fall back in pleasure. i ride him fast as i keep saying his name. "shit, y/n. you're such a good girl, you're so hot. you feel so tight."

i connect our lips, i feel his hands tighten around my ass. this means he was close. "i want you to cum in me, rafe." his eyes widen as he opens his mouth to ask for permission. "p-please fill me up. i miss it so much." i say, trying to catch my breathe.

with that, he lets out a groan and my name falls from his lips like a prayer. "y/n." i feel him coming inside me, painting me. it doesn't take long for his thumb to find my clit again. with the extra pressure applied to my overstimulated cunt, i feel my head reeling. the air in the truck is hot, making it almost hard for me to breath. it all feels too much, my body releasing onto rafe yet again.

we sit there, panting with our eyes closed. i rest my head on his sweaty chest and he kisses me gently. he rubs my back, tracing circles into it.

"felt even better than i imagine." he says, his voice gruff.

"you thought about it a lot, huh?" i smirk.

"all the fucking time."

i take him out of me and sit next to him in the truck. the windows are foggy and our hands find each other, holding them. i get a sense of weird nostalgia, from how things used to be with us.

"well that was a thanksgiving to remember." i joke, trying not to feel overwhelmed by what happened.

"'tis the damn season." he replies.

i slowly slip my sweater back on and try to find my pants.

"w-wait." rafe says. "is this...is this it? just a single fuck and you're gone."

i look at him, his eyes pleading with me.

"i go back to boston on saturday rafe, we only have like a day and a half."

i wish we could keep this going, i wish this was how things always were. but i had to think realistically. i have to go back home, i have to move on with my new life.

he grabs my hand and squeezes it. "boston is only an 11 hour drive. hour or two by plane."

"rafe." i say.

"i can't lose you again. i can't, y/n. these past few years have sucked without you. i can't wait until you come home for christmas again. now that i've got you again, i can't risk it."

i sigh and kiss his hand. "i know. i know." i close my eyes and shake my head. "we'll make it work. we almost did it before."

"we can do it again." he smiles sweetly. i kiss his lips gently, laying my hand against his chest.

"you'd do an 11 hour car ride for me?"

"y/n, i'd fucking walk if i have to." he smiles.

i roll my eyes and kiss his cheek. "you're so cheesy."

he lays me back against the truck seats and kisses me. "don't act like it doesn't work for you."

[asterafroditis]

𐔌 . ⋮ studying for finals .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

☓┆First Years x gn! reader

𓏵 603 words

ᝰ.ᐟ headcanons, no pronouns used, fluff

In honor of finishing my finals hehe >< Second Years and Third Years coming up next! feel free to like, reblog, or comment!

ᝰ.ᐟ masterlist

Studying with Ace is chaotic, but somehow... productive? He swings between cracking jokes and randomly pulling out a surprisingly solid explanation of a spell or formula.

You usually end up sprawled out on the floor of his room with snacks between you and books open in every direction.

He pretends to be nonchalant about it, but he keeps glancing over to make sure you’re understanding stuff. He wants to be helpful, even if he acts like it’s just for fun.

“Look, I ain’t saying I’m a genius or anything, but that explanation? Kinda smooth, right?”

If he sees you stressed, he changes the topic for a moment—makes you laugh, tosses you a candy, anything to lift your spirits before going back to studying.

─────────────────────────

Deuce takes your study session very seriously. He shows up ten minutes early, with color-coded notes and homemade flashcards.

He’s worried he’s not doing enough, so he overcompensates with effort. But with you beside him, he actually relaxes a bit.

When you compliment his notes or say you understand better because of him, he just freezes and then blushes.

“I—I’m glad it helped! I wasn’t sure if I explained it right... but thanks!”

He’ll gently correct your mistakes without making you feel dumb. And if you’re ever discouraged, he’s quick to say:

“We’ll both pass. No question about it.”

─────────────────────────

Jack prefers studying in the fresh air, so you usually meet him under a tree behind the dorms or in a quiet courtyard.

He doesn’t talk much at first—just studies beside you, occasionally answering your questions in his calm, straightforward way.

But once he notices you struggling with something, he patiently walks you through it, never once making you feel bad.

And if you do well? He gives you the rarest thing: a proud smile.

“Told you you’d get it. You just needed a little push.”

He’s attentive in quiet ways—making sure you’re hydrated, suggesting breaks when you look tired, and making space for you to rest against his shoulder if you nod off.

─────────────────────────

You and Epel usually study at Ramshackle because he says Pomefiore is “too stuffy” for his taste. He stretches out on the floor or slouches upside-down on your bed while quizzing you.

He fidgets when he’s bored—tosses pencils, messes with your hair, or doodles—but the moment the subject is something he likes (like Flight or anything Physical Education related), he lights up.

If you praise him, he gets all red-eared and bashful:

“Wha—? I-I ain’t that good or nothin’! Just paid attention that day, I guess…”

If he sees you getting overwhelmed, he pauses and offers a quick grin:

“Hey, don’t beat yourself up. It’s not like Trein’s gonna turn us into toads if we miss one answer. Probably.”

─────────────────────────

Sebek treats your study session like a royal mission. He insists on structure: reviewing vocabulary, reciting theories, and pacing the floor with a textbook in hand.

He’s intense, but deeply invested in your success. If you get something wrong, he corrects you immediately, but always circles back to make sure you truly understand.

“You must be precise! But… if you do not understand, I shall explain again. Pay attention!”

When you do succeed, though? His proud expression is borderline dramatic.

“EXCELLENT! You’re finally starting to think like a proper scholar!”

And if you thank him for his help, he gets awkward for a second before nodding, slightly flushed.

“Tch… It is only natural to assist a companion in need.”

[badathumanemotions]

Hey, would you be able to write a nsfw fic with spencer but maybe where a few of the team members decide to play poker at Rossi’s and it turns into strip poker with like a bit of truth or dare and you end up sat on Spencer’s lap with like barely any clothes on or smt. And then like later they end up having to share a room at rossi’s and then yk..

High Stakes

Spencer Reid x Fem Reader MDNI Master List Category: Smut CW: Strip Poker, Half Naked Lap Sitting, Grinding, Dry Humping, Oral Sex, Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Creampie, Face Fucking, Dirty Talk. WC: 5,799 I have no idea how to play poker. (Not Proof Read)

"Alright, who's up for a round of poker?" Derek Morgan announced, his eyes scanning the table.

You looked around at the weary but smiling faces of your teammates. After a long, successful case, dinner at Rossi's had been the perfect way to unwind. The aroma of his homemade lasagna still lingered in the air, mingling with the sweetness of their dessert.

"I think I'll pass," Aaron said, pushing back his chair with a stretch. "It's been a long day. I'd love to join you all, but I better get home to Haley and Jack." His eyes crinkled at the mention of his wife and son.

Rossi nodded, understanding. "Alright, I'll walk you out." They disappeared into the hallway, leaving the rest of the team to rearrange the furniture in the den.

You felt a hand on your shoulder. "You in?" Emily Prentiss asked, her eyes gleaming with mischief.

You nodded, trying to hide your nerves. "Sure, I'm in. It's been a while since I played, but I'll give it a shot."

The table was soon set up with cards, chips, and drinks. You took a seat next to Spencer, who was already shuffling the deck with a focused intensity that was a little unnerving.

"Okay, everyone," Rossi called out as he re-entered the room. "Let's get this game started." He took his place at the table, his eyes showing a hint of fatigue. "But remember, I'm only playing a couple of hands. It's been a long day and I need my beauty sleep." His comment was met with laughter from the others.

The first hand of poker began, with Spencer dealing the cards with a swiftness that spoke of his years of experience playing the game. His eyes darted around the table, reading the subtle tells of his teammates. You took a deep breath and picked up your cards, feeling the smooth edges against your fingertips.

As the hand unfolded, the banter grew more playful, the stakes rising with each round of betting. You watched as Derek Morgan's face remained unreadable, his poker face firmly in place. Meanwhile, JJ's occasional glances at her cards betrayed her excitement, while Garcia's fidgeting with her chips was a clear sign she was bluffing.

Spencer's eyes narrowed slightly as he studied his cards, his mind racing through probabilities and possible outcomes. When it came down to the showdown, he laid out a full house with a smug smile. "Well, well, well," he said, collecting his winnings. "It seems like Lady Luck is on my side tonight."

The room buzzed with good-natured groans and teasing. "How does he do it?" JJ jokes, shaking her head.

A couple more rounds went by, the tension rising as the pot grew. Each of you played strategically, the air filled with anticipation and the clinking of chips. Prentiss leaned back in her chair, her arms folded as she studied the table.

Finally, after one particularly intense round, Rossi rubbed his eyes and yawned. "Alright, I think I've had enough fun for one night. I'm going to call it quits and head upstairs." He glanced around the table. "If anyone wants to crash here tonight, the guest rooms are all yours. No need to drive home if you're feeling too tired."

The team bid him good night, their eyes lingering on the chips and cards as they continued to play. With Rossi's departure, the atmosphere grew slightly more competitive. You felt a thrill as the game went on, the camaraderie of the team mixing with the cutthroat nature of poker.

Morgan leaned back in his chair, a devilish grin spread across his face. "You know what would make this night even better?" he suggested, raising an eyebrow.

"What's that?" Prentiss asked, her interest piqued.

Morgan's grin widened. "How about we spice things up a bit?" He suggested, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "Strip poker, anyone?"

The room fell silent for a beat before bursting into laughter. You felt your cheeks heat up, surprised by the proposal. Prentiss's smile grew wicked. "Now that's a twist," she said, her gaze flickering to JJ.

JJ caught your eye and noticed your hesitance. She leaned forward, placing a reassuring hand on the table. "You know, we can always play truth or dare instead," she suggested, her voice low and soothing. "It's less… risky."

Morgan's smile grew. "How about both?" he proposed, raising the stakes. "You can opt to either take a piece of clothing off or complete a truth or dare from the group." The room buzzed with excitement and a little trepidation. You swallowed hard, trying to decide if you were ready for this.

Garcia squealed with delight. "I'm in!" she exclaimed, her cheeks already pink.

You took a deep breath, the adrenaline starting to pump through your veins. The thought of playing strip poker was a bit intimidating, but the alternative rule of truth or dare had its own thrill. You found yourself nodding in agreement. "Alright, why not? Strip poker with a twist it is."

The game continued, the stakes now higher in more ways than one. Garcia was the first to go, losing a shoe to a bad bluff. She giggled, tossing it aside and taking a shot of tequila.

JJ's eyes widened slightly as she had to remove her sweater, revealing a tight tank top underneath. The room was getting warmer, and not just from the heat of the game. The tension grew palpable as each player weighed their options: fold and risk embarrassment, or push on and hope for the win.

You felt your heart race as the game continued. With each round, the pile of clothing on the floor grew. Before you knew it, you were down to your last few pieces of clothing.

The next hand was dealt, and you picked up your cards with trembling hands. You had a good hand, but the idea of losing was now more than just about the game. You studied the faces around the table, looking for signs of who might be bluffing.

Morgan leaned in, his gaze intense. "You're looking a little flushed, Y/N," he teased. "Is it the game or the thought of what's next?"

You couldn't help but laugh nervously, feeling the heat in your cheeks spread down your neck. The game had indeed taken a turn, and you found yourself in a situation you never would have imagined when you accepted the dinner invitation. You had continued playing, the excitement and the thrill of the game keeping you in your seat until you were down to just your bra, skirt, and panties.

The hand began, and you focused on your cards. You had a decent hand, but not a sure win. The betting went around the table, each person raising the stakes. You looked around, trying to read their faces, their body language, looking for any hint of what they might be hiding.

As the final round of bets were placed, you felt the weight of the moment. If you won this hand, you could keep your skirt on. If not, well, the thought sent a shiver down your spine. You placed your bet, trying to keep your voice steady.

Morgan called, his smile never wavering. Prentiss folded, a knowing look in her eye. Spencer studied you closely, his cards held tight to his chest. Garcia bobbed in her chair, her curiosity and excitement palpable.

As the tension grew, so did the distraction of your state of undress. You noticed Spencer's eyes darting to your chest every few seconds, the effort he was making not to stare becoming more and more obvious. You couldn't help but feel a thrill of power at the sight of him so flustered. The others had also caught on. They knew Spencer's intense focus was split, and they hoped to use his distraction to their advantage.

The final card was flipped, and you watched in horror as Morgan revealed his winning hand. The room erupted in cheers and whistles, your heart sinking as you realized you had lost your last piece of lower body clothing. With a dramatic flourish, you stood and dropped your skirt to the floor.

Spencer's eyes traced down your legs, his cheeks reddening when he realized he'd been caught staring. He quickly looked away. The room fell silent for a moment before the laughter and clapping began again.

Others had invoked the truth or dare clause here and there, but you hadn't yet. Each time someone chose dare, it seemed to push the boundaries a little further. Garcia had to sing a karaoke song, JJ had to do a sexy dance, and Prentiss had to tell a steamy secret from her past. Each moment had been met with laughter and cheers, but you couldn't shake the feeling that the real fun was just getting started.

The next hand was dealt, and your heart pounded in your chest as you realized you had nothing. You didn't want to remove your bra, so you knew what you had to do. You took a deep breath and announced, "Dare." The room grew quiet, all eyes on you.

Morgan's grin grew wicked. "I dare Y/N to sit on Spencer's lap for the rest of the night." A chorus of laughter and cheers erupted around the table. Spencer's eyes widened in shock, his cheeks burning.

You felt your own cheeks rouge at the suggestion, your heart skipping a beat. Being that close to Spencer, especially in your current state of half-dress, was both thrilling and terrifying. But the excitement of the game and the desire to keep playing overrode your nerves. You nodded, trying to appear nonchalant. "Fine."

Spencer's body moved back before he even had time to process the words. His chair scraped against the wooden floor, creating a sharp sound that echoed in the tension-filled room. He looked up at you, his eyes wide, his expression a mix of surprise and something else that you couldn't quite decipher.

You took a deep breath and slid onto his lap with more confidence than you felt. His body was tense beneath you, his muscles rigid as he held himself perfectly still. You could feel the heat from his body, the warmth of his skin seeping through his shirt and into you. Your heart was racing so fast it felt like it might leap out of your chest.

The others smirked as they shuffled the cards for the next round. They could see the electric tension between you and Spencer, and it only added to the excitement of the game. Prentiss began to deal, her eyes glinting with amusement as she took in the situation.

The next few rounds, Spencer's focus was undeniably scattered. His usual poker face was nowhere to be seen, replaced by a constant battle to not look at you sitting on his lap. His hands fumbled with his cards, and his bets were erratic. It didn't take long before the team noticed and capitalized on his distraction.

"Looks like someone's lost their mojo," Prentiss teased, placing her cards on the table with a smirk. You tried to ignore the smug looks from the others, focusing instead on the way Spencer's breath hitched every time you shifted slightly.

The next hand was dealt, and you could see the determination in Spencer's eyes as he picked up his cards. This time, you noticed the way his thumb brushed against your bare skin as he held his cards, and the electricity that shot through you was anything but calming.

You tried to keep your focus on the cards in your hand, but Spencer's proximity was making it near impossible. His breath was warm against your neck, and you could feel his heart beating rapidly beneath you. You thought you had been careful hiding your cards, but apparently, not that careful.

"You're holding your cards too tight," he whispered into your ear, his voice low and gentle. "It's giving you away." You felt a shiver run down your spine, and you couldn't help but lean into him slightly. His scent filled your nose and it made your head swim.

You took a deep breath and tried to loosen your grip, his words sinking in. The whispers continued, his breath warm against your neck as he pointed out small tells from the others at the table. His voice was a comforting rumble, guiding you through the game.

Slowly, the closeness didn't feel so awkward. In fact, there was a strange sense of comfort in having him so near. You found yourself leaning into him slightly, his arm wrapping around your waist in a protective embrace.

As the game went on, Spencer's whispers grew more frequent. He noticed every little detail about the others' playing styles, sharing his insights with you in hushed tones. "Look at how Garcia's thumb is pressing down on her chips," he murmured. "She's bluffing." His voice was low and calming, his words of advice a secret shared between the two of you.

You followed his lead, and slowly, you saw your luck begin to change. You won a couple hands, the pile of chips in front of you growing. The warmth of his body, the steady beat of his heart, and the gentle guidance of his whispers had a surprising effect on you. You felt more relaxed, more confident. The daring glances and smiles you exchanged with him grew more frequent, hinting at the thrill you both felt.

Then it happened. As you readjusted yourself higher on his lap for better comfort, you felt it. The unmistakable pressure of Spencer's erection against your backside. A blush crept up your neck, and you froze for a moment, unsure of what to do. His breath hitched, and you knew he was just as aware of it as you were. The room's temperature seemed to rise a few degrees.

You wondered how long he had been like that and how you hadn't noticed it before. His arm tightened around your waist, and you felt a low groan in his chest. You felt yourself start to get wet, the heat and the thrill of the moment making your body react despite the situation. You took a deep breath, trying to compose yourself.

Without realizing it, your hips had begun to slightly rock against him, the friction sending waves of pleasure through your body. You could feel his cock growing harder with every movement. The others at the table were too engrossed in the game to notice, but you were acutely aware of every little sound and sensation.

Spencer's breathing grew shallower. His hips made the tiniest of movements, pushing back into you in a silent bid for more. You bit your lip, trying to keep your breathing steady, but it was getting harder by the second.

The game continued around you, but the world had narrowed down to just the two of you. Each time his hips rocked against yours, it sent a jolt of desire through your body. You could feel your own breath quickening, your chest rising and falling more noticeably with every shallow breath.

You tried to keep your poker face, focusing on the cards in your hand, but it was difficult when you could feel his hardness pressing into you. Spencer's whispers grew softer, his voice a gentle rumble that made your skin tingle.

Suddenly, Garcia broke the spell, standing up from the table with a dramatic yawn. "Alright, I think I've had enough for tonight," she announced, her cheeks still flushed from the alcohol. "I'm going to crash in one of the guest rooms."

Her declaration created a domino effect. One by one, the others began to nod in agreement. The energy of the game dissipated as they all started to collect their scattered clothing. You felt a strange mix of relief and disappointment as Spencer's arm loosened around your waist.

Reluctantly, you slid off Spencer's lap and began to gather your clothes from the floor. The fabric felt cold against your skin, which was now sensitive from his warmth. You couldn't help but feel the loss of his touch as you dressed, the excitement of the moment fading into a confusing mix of arousal and awkwardness.

"Thank you for a… memorable game," Spencer said, his voice strained as he stood up. His eyes darted around the room, avoiding yours.

You tried to ignore the wetness between your legs as you helped the others clean up, focusing on the mundane task of gathering the cards and chips. Your body was still humming with the tension that had built up during the daring rounds of poker. The room felt too small, too hot, as you tried to act like nothing had changed.

The group chattered about who would take which guest room, the conversation light and easy. Yet, you couldn't help but feel the weight of the moment lingering in the air. The way Spencer's arm had felt around your waist, his erection pressing into you, was etched into your mind.

"Dibs on Morgan!" Garcia exclaimed, slapping a hand on Derek's arm playfully.

You laughed along with everyone else, trying to shake off the lingering tension.

"Alright, let's all head upstairs," Prentiss suggested, breaking the spell. "Three guest rooms, and we're all adults here."

You nodded, eager to escape the charged atmosphere, and followed the group up the stairs. You felt Spencer's gaze on you, and you couldn't help but wonder if he was thinking the same things you were.

Without a word, Emily and JJ claimed the first room they saw. Garcia and Morgan didn't waste any time either, disappearing into the room across the hall. That left you and Spencer, the silence between you heavy with unspoken tension as you both stared at the last guest room at the end of the hallway.

You took a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart. Spencer's eyes darted to the room before meeting yours. "Looks like we're sharing," he murmured, his voice low and filled with a hint of something that was definitely not disappointment.

With a sudden burst of courage, you grabbed his hand, your pulse quickening. He looked surprised but didn't resist as you led him to the last open guest room.

Once you closed the door, you pushed Spencer to sit at the edge of the bed, his eyes widening as you straddled his lap. His arms instinctively wrapped around your waist, holding you in place.

"Do you want this?" you whispered, your breath hot against his ear. His eyes searched yours for any sign of hesitation or doubt, but all he saw was the same hunger reflected in his own.

"God yes," he replied, crashing his lips against yours with a fervour that stole your breath. The heat between you was undeniable as your bodies collided, his hands gripping your hips tightly. The kiss was deep and hungry, his tongue delving into your mouth as if he could devour you whole.

You grind against his lap, happy to feel that he was still semi-hard. His grip on you tightened, and you could feel his cock growing harder with every movement of your hips. The feeling was intoxicating, and you couldn't help but moan into his mouth.

Breaking the kiss, you leaned back, panting heavily. Spencer's eyes followed your every move as you stood up and began to strip away your clothing, until you were left in your underwear.

You sat back down onto his lap, this time with a sense of purpose, your legs straddling his. He groaned into your neck, his hands roaming over your bare skin as you kissed along his jawline. His touch was gentle yet firm, leaving a trail of heat wherever he went.

Spencer's fingers slid up the outside of your thighs, his touch feather-light, sending shivers of anticipation through you. His grip tightened as they reached your ass, cupping you firmly. He pulled you closer, aligning your hips with his, and you gasped as his erection pressed against you.

You rocked back and forth, the friction building between your bodies. His breath was hot against your neck, his kisses leaving a trail of fire along your collarbone. You wrapped your arms around him, your nails digging into his shoulders as the pressure grew.

Suddenly, the angle was just right. Your clit rubbed against his erection with just the right amount of friction, and you felt yourself teetering on the edge. The sensation was intense, your eyes rolling back in your head as you bit back a moan.

With every grind, you grew closer to the edge, your breath coming in short gasps. Your nails dug into his shoulders, your body trembling with the effort to stay in control. Then, with a final, desperate thrust, you climaxed, your body shuddering in his embrace.

Spencer watched you, his eyes hooded with lust. He could feel your wetness soaking through the fabric of your panties, and it was all he could do to keep from tearing them off.

With a surprising show of strength, Spencer picked you up, your legs wrapping around his waist instinctively. You gasped as he laid you gently on the bed, his body hovering over yours. He paused for a moment, his gaze searching yours for any sign of hesitation, but all he found was desire mirrored back at him.

His hands traced the line of your underwear, his thumbs hooking under the waistband. Slowly, so painfully slow, he began to lower your panties. You watched as he pulled them down, revealing your wetness to the cool air of the room. Instead of tossing them aside, he folded the damp fabric and tucked it into his back pocket with a smirk.

He spread your legs wide, taking in the sight of you with a hunger that made you blush even deeper. His eyes roamed over your bare skin, lingering on your most sensitive spots. He leaned in, his breath hot against your folds, and you shivered.

Without further teasing, Spencer's tongue darted out, licking a slow path up your slit. You gasped, your hips bucking involuntarily. He took his time, savouring the taste of you. His tongue was soft and insistent, lapping at your clit and dipping into your entrance.

You grabbed fistfuls of the bed sheets, your back arching off the mattress as he worked you into a frenzy. The feeling of his mouth on you was heavenly, his skilled tongue flicking and pressing in just the right places. You were so close, your body tightening in anticipation of another orgasm.

But just as you were about to tip over the edge again, Spencer paused, leaving you panting and desperate. He slid a finger into your wetness, and you could feel him smiling against your skin as he found your g-spot with ease. The addition of his fingers sent a new wave of pleasure crashing through you, making your legs quiver.

As his tongue danced over your clit, his fingers began to move inside you in a rhythm that was both torturous and heavenly. He knew exactly how to hit that spot, his movements measured and precise, as if he had studied your body's every response. You moaned, your body begging for more as he continued to explore you with his mouth.

Spencer's mouth grew more urgent, his tongue lapping and sucking on your clit messily. He was too desperate to care about the wet sounds he was making, too lost in the taste of you to be self-conscious. His teeth grazed your sensitive flesh, and you gasped, your nails digging into his scalp as you held him in place.

He could feel your orgasm building, the way your muscles tightened around his fingers. With one final, deliberate thrust, he pushed you over the edge, his tongue never leaving your clit as you came hard against his mouth.

As your body trembled with the aftershocks of pleasure, you felt a surge of energy rather than exhaustion. The orgasm had been so intense that it seemed to have recharged you. Without warning, you sprang up from the bed, a mischievous grin playing on your lips as you turned to face Spencer.

You reached behind your back and unhooked your bra, letting it fall to the floor. Spencer's eyes widened, his gaze drinking in the sight of your breasts. Your nipples harden in the cool air.

Standing before him, you began to strip Spencer of his clothes. Once down to his last article of clothing you knelt before Spencer, your eyes never leaving his as you gripped the waistband of his boxers. His eyes darkened with anticipation as you began to pull them down his legs, revealing his cock, which stood at full attention. Your heart raced as you took in the sight of him, the anticipation of what was to come making your own body respond in kind.

You reached out and gently touched his cock, feeling the heat and hardness of it. Spencer's breath hitched, his eyes fluttering shut as you explored his length with curious fingers. The tip was wet with pre-cum, and you couldn't resist leaning in to taste him. Your tongue flicked out, a soft and tentative touch that made him jerk in surprise.

Encouraged, you took him fully into your mouth, his length stretching your lips wide. You could feel his hands tighten in your hair as you began to suck, your mouth moving in a steady rhythm. Spencer moaned, his hips forward to meet your eager mouth. You took him deeper, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat, making you gag slightly.

You paused for a moment to adjust, then took him as far as you could, holding yourself there and swallowing around his tip. The sensation was overwhelming for Spencer, his eyes rolling back in his head. His hips bucked slightly, pushing himself deeper into your mouth, and you could feel his muscles tightening beneath your fingertips.

Finally, you pulled off of him, licking your lips to catch the last drops of his arousal. Looking him in the eye, you whispered, "Use me." It was a simple request, but it held a world of meaning. You wanted him to take control, to show you the full extent of his power over you.

Without hesitation, Spencer grabbed the hair at the back of your head and guided his cock back into your mouth. You moaned around him. He began to move his hips, fucking into your mouth with a gentle rhythm that grew more urgent with every passing stroke. His grip on your hair tightened.

Your eyes peered up at him, watering slightly from the effort to keep up with his pace. You could see the desire in his gaze, the way his pupils had blown wide with lust. It was a heady feeling, knowing you had this powerful, intelligent man at your mercy, reduced to a trembling mess by your touch.

But Spencer had other plans. He pulled out of your mouth with a soft groan, his hand still tangled in your hair. "Not yet," he murmured, his voice husky. "I want to feel you first."

With surprising strength, he offered you a hand and pulled you up from the floor. Your legs were shaky, but he held you steady. You climbed onto the bed, feeling the cool sheets beneath your knees. You positioned yourself on all fours, the soft mattress sinking slightly with your weight.

You dropped from your hands to your elbows, arching your back and sticking your ass up in the air. You couldn't help but wiggle your hips back and forth, a silent invitation to Spencer.

He moaned at the sight, his eyes glazed over with desire. He scrambled onto the bed behind you. His hand reached out to cup your ass cheeks, the heat of his palms searing into your skin.

Spencer spread your pussy lips apart with his thumbs, revealing the glistening wetness that leaked from your swollen entrance. His groan was low and guttural, a sound that sent a thrill of pleasure through your body. His thumbs traced slow circles around your opening, teasing your sensitive flesh.

With agonizing slowness, you felt the tip of his cock nudge against you. He pushed in gently, the head of his erection parting your folds. You gasped, your muscles clenching around the unyielding intrusion. Spencer waited, giving you a moment to adjust.

Inch by inch, he filled you up, his cock stretching you deliciously. You could feel every ridge and vein, his length sliding deep within you until you were fully impaled. He didn't move for a moment, letting you get used to the feeling of being so completely filled.

Then, once he felt you relax, Spencer set a punishing rhythm, his hips slamming against your ass. The room was filled with the sound of skin on skin, the rhythmic slapping echoing off the walls.

You whimpered, your eyes squeezed shut as you tried to process the sensation. It was intense, overwhelming, but you didn't want it to stop. Spencer's hands gripped your hips tightly, guiding you back onto him with each thrust.

The scent of sex and desire filled the room as he claimed you, the sound of skin slapping against skin mixing with the wetness of your pussy. Each time he pushed into you, your nipples scraped against the soft cotton of the bed sheets. The friction was maddening, making your already sensitive breasts feel like they were on fire.

Spencer's hands moved to your waist, his fingers digging into your flesh as he adjusted his angle. He threw his weight into each thrust, the force of his hips pushing you further into the bed with every movement.

Then he slid one hand down your body, his fingertips skimming over your stomach and pausing when they reached the apex of your thighs. He found your clit, swollen and sensitive from his earlier attention, and began to rub it in gentle circles.

The combination of his deep strokes and the pressure on your clit was too much. You felt yourself climbing again, the pleasure building to a crescendo. You began to moan, the sound muffled by the pillow you had buried your face in.

Spencer leaned over, his breath hot against your ear. "Do you like that?" he whispered. "Do you like it when I fuck you like this?" He grunts out.

You nodded, too lost in the haze of pleasure to form coherent words. His whispers grew more explicit, describing every little sensation he felt, every way your body was responding to his. "You're so tight, so wet for me," he continues. "Your pussy is squeezing my cock so tight."

With each thrust, he whispered about his desire for you, how long he had fantasized about this moment. "I've wanted to fuck you like this for so long," he groaned. "To feel you this way, to hear you like this." His words were like a drug, leaving you craving more.

"Remember when you were on my lap downstairs?" Spencer panted, his hips never slowing. "How badly I wanted to rip your panties off and bury my cock inside you?"

You moaned, his words painting a vivid picture in your mind. The thought of him wanting you that badly, of him fighting his urges while everyone else played the game, was an aphrodisiac.

As Spencer whispered about how he had imagined watching you bounce on his cock in the middle of the poker game, your orgasm crashed over you. You couldn't hold back the moan that tore from your throat as your pussy clenched around him, the muscles spasming with pleasure.

It was wet and messy, your juices coating his cock with each withdrawal, only to be pushed back in with a slick sound on his next thrust. Your thighs were sticky with your arousal, and the scent of sex grew stronger.

You felt your body tightening around him, your pussy pulsing with each stroke. Your orgasm was still fresh, but the relentless pace Spencer had set had you spiraling towards another peak. His breath was hot and ragged against your ear, his whispers of filthy confessions only fuelling the fire within you.

As Spencer spoke of his fantasies, his hand never ceased its torment of your clit. The pleasure grew unbearable, your body a live wire. Then, as if on cue, another orgasm washes over you, making your legs shake uncontrollably. You cry out, your voice a high-pitched whine.

His thrusts grew erratic, his own need for release becoming apparent. You felt your pussy flutter around his cock, the walls tightening and releasing in time with your racing heartbeat. It was this feeling, the tightness and the warmth of you, that pushed Spencer over the edge.

With a final, powerful thrust, he buried himself as deep inside you as he could go. You felt his cock twitching, and then the warm flood of his cum filled your pussy. He groaned your name, his hips jerking as he emptied himself into you, his orgasm intense and uncontrollable. The sensation was intoxicating.

Panting, you both collapsed onto the bed, your bodies entangled in a mess of limbs. You clung to him, your chest rising and falling in time with his, your breaths mingling in the quiet room. Spencer's arms wrapped around your waist, holding you close as if afraid to let go. You felt his heart racing beneath your cheek. You were both thoroughly exhausted, the passionate frenzy leaving you drained yet content.

After a moment, you lifted your head and met his gaze. His eyes searched yours, seeking reassurance, a silent question hanging in the air. You offered a soft smile, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. The tension dissipated, replaced by a gentle warmth.

As your breathing evened out, you leaned in to capture his mouth in a slow, sensual kiss. The taste of yourself still lingered on his lips. Spencer's arms tightened around you, pulling you closer as he deepened the kiss.

Your hands roamed his body, tracing the contours of his chest and shoulders, the feel of his skin smooth and warm beneath your fingertips. He mirrored your movements, his touch gentle and exploratory, as if committing every inch of you to memory.

Spencer's lips trailed down your neck, peppering kisses that sent shivers down your spine. You nuzzled closer to him, your breathing slowing as the weight of sleep began to claim you. "With how loud we were, we're definitely sneaking out before the others wake up, right?" you whispered against his skin.

He chuckled, the vibration running through you. "Right," he murmured, his voice thick with exhaustion. You could feel his smile against your shoulder. His hand traced lazy circles on your back, the gentle pressure lulling you closer to slumber.

[pitviperofdoom]

High School Time Travelers, Part 2

It's finally here! Follow up to this story.

***

“So. Spill. What the fuck is going on with you and Angelique?”

Raph fidgeted uncomfortably, and something within Erin roared out in protest at that. They were in her room, surrounded by her clutter and band posters and the stuff he kept at her house to keep his mom from throwing it away. He wasn’t supposed to be uncomfortable here.

Eventually, he took a deep breath. “I time-traveled last night.”

“I’m serious—”

“So am I,” he said wearily. “I woke up in a house I haven’t set foot in for years, across the hall from someone I promised myself I’d never talk to again. It happened, and if you’re stuck on that part then this conversation can’t continue.”

Erin got up and paced her room, kicking aside her backpack, nearly knocking over the guitar stand in the corner. “What the fuck.”

“That’s what I said.”

“What the fuck, Raph.”

“I didn’t mean to!”

The absurdity hit her instantly—he didn’t mean to time travel, as if they were talking about him forgetting his homework or getting in Monica Dillon’s way during passing period. She wanted to laugh.

But then she remembered some of the weird things Angelique had said—about friendships imploding, about college, about shit not mattering in high school, all with the easy certainty of experience.

“Prove it,” she said. “Can you do that thing where you predict what I’m about to say?”

“I’m not stuck in a time loop, dumbass, yesterday I was thirty-three!” Raph snapped. “I had to go through math class trying to pretend I still remembered my teacher’s name!”

“Okay, okay, Jesus.” Erin held up her hands placatingly. “There’s gotta be something.”

Raph sighed, rubbing his forehead. “I dunno. Anything meaningful and unchangeable I can remember won’t happen for a while, so if you’re willing to wait for the Trump presidency or the global pandemic, there’s that.”

“The what.”

“Wait, who’s president right now? It’s still Bush, right?”

Erin pulled a face.

“Next one’s Barack Obama, he’s gonna do two terms,” Raph informed her. “First black president.”

“Oh, huh. Cool,” Erin said faintly.

“Let’s see, what else, um… Balloon Boy? Has Balloon Boy happened yet?”

“No, what the fuck is Balloon Boy?”

Raph brightened. “Yeah, so at some point this family is gonna release like, a homemade weather balloon? Or something? And there’s gonna be this huge panic because they think their son is stuck inside it, but then it turns out he was fine and hiding in the basement the whole time and it was a hoax.”

“Okay, I’ll keep an eye out for that I guess?” Erin sat down again. “You’re seriously not fucking with me right now?”

“I mean, if you want, we could forget this conversation ever happened,” Raph offered. “Continue with our normal lives, while I keep under-reacting to devastating world events.”

“Christ, I don’t know.” Erin pressed her palms into her eyes. After a moment, she lifted her head again. “Wait a minute, we’re getting off track. What does this have to do with Angelique?”

Raph’s silence could not have been louder.

“Raph,” Erin said, a little desperately.

“First you have to promise you won’t be mad,” said Raph.

“Did you sleep with her in the—” Erin paused to do some arithmetic in her head. “—eighteen years between then and now?!”

“She’s my wife,” Raph blurted out.

Moments later, Erin’s mother knocked politely on the bedroom door. “Everything okay in there?” she asked. “That’s an awful lot of screaming for a Tuesday night.”

Erin continued howling into her pillow. “She’s fine, Mrs. Yokota!” Raph called. “We’re looking at—uh—creepypastas!”

“Creepy what?”

“Uh—crap, are they still called that?—like, ghost stories and stuff!”

Placated, she left them to it. Eventually Erin recovered enough to lie back and stare listlessly at the ceiling.

“Dude.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“What the fuck is your life?” Erin demanded. “How did that even happen?”

“We ran into each other at—so my friend Hazel got roped into being in their college roommate’s bridal party and dragged me along for moral support, and Angelique was in the same friend group but with like six degrees of separation from us,” Raph explained. “It took half the reception for her to recognize me because at that point I’d been on T for a few years, but the second she realized we went to the same high school she turned fishbelly-white, pulled me aside, and apologized for how much of a bitch she was back then. It was really awkward.”

Back then, he called it, even though for Erin it was still right now. “And you married her?”

“Like eight years later, yeah.” Raph ran his hand through his hair, not quite hiding the small smile that stole over his face. “She really turned over a new leaf.”

Erin was silent for a while, mulling over this new information, combining it with what she already had from that afternoon.

“Is your name still Raphael?” she asked. “She sounded really surprised about it. And I know you said you were just taking the name on a trial run, but you really seemed to like it. Not that there’s—you know,” she added. “I know that—just because I picked it, I knew you might not… you know. It’s fine, I was just wondering. If I should call you something else.”

“I did—I do like it,” Raph assured her. “But, uh, some stuff happened. My dad found me.”

Erin’s eyebrows shot upward. “Wait, really? What’d he have to say for himself?”

“That Mom ghosted him when she got pregnant because her side guy had more money.”

“Dude, fuck your mom.”

“Don’t fuck my mom, she’ll ghost you for money, weren’t you listening?”

Erin burst out snickering. “Fuck, sorry, this isn’t funny.”

“It will be in eighteen years,” Raph said with a wry smile. “Hindsight. Anyway, he found me in—he’s gonna find me in two years unless I reach out first. He’s a good guy. My stepmom’s pretty cool, too. And I have sisters? So that’s awesome. And yeah, he had this friend who passed away when he was younger, and he always wanted to name his son after him, but then Mom disappeared and he only ended up having daughters, so when he found me, it kind of worked out.” He hesitated. “I’m Damian. Damian Raphael Harker.”

“That’s such a cool name,” Erin sighed.

Raph—Damian—tilted his head back to grin at her. “Yours is cool, too.”

“Shut up,” she said fondly.

“No, seriously,” he said emphatically. “Your name is unspeakably cool.”

There was something odd in his tone, sticking up and catching like a loose nail. It bothered her, the same way something Angelique said earlier had bothered her.

“Hey, Ra—Damian?” Erin said cautiously. “Earlier, when Angelique sat down with us, she didn’t recognize me.”

“She does, don’t worry.”

“No, she didn’t,” Erin pressed. “It took her a second to realize who I was, and she stopped herself from saying why.”

Suddenly Damian looked deeply uncomfortable. “I, uh.”

She took a deep breath. “Was I dead in your time?”

“Wh-no! No no no no, of course not!” Damian looked horrified. “We played Pathfinder like last week, you’re not dead.”

“What’s Path—no, never mind. Something’s clearly up. If we just played whatever-that-is last week, and Angelique is your wife, then why didn’t she know who I was?”

“Uh…” Damian’s hands had worked their way deep into his sleeves. “You look different, that’s all. You kind of reinvented yourself in college.”

“Oh,” Erin said, momentarily relieved. Then— “Wait.”

“What?’

“Damian. You’d—” She hesitated. “If I was a guy, you’d tell me, right?’

“Oh my God,” Damian mumbled into his be-sweatered hands.

“Damian.”

“You’re... not...”

“You’d tell me, right?”

“See, I don’t know if I would!” Damian answered, in a strained high-pitched tone. “That’s—look. If you were a guy, that’s something you’d have to work out for yourself!”

“Damian, I swear to God.”

“I can’t crack your egg for you, that’s like violating the Prime Directive!”

Erin seized a pillow and started to buffet him with it. “You are such a nerd!”

“It’s your personal journey, you can’t use me to cheat!” Damian cackled, fending her off with a plush horse.

***

“Yeah I’ll get the banana split.” Angie bounced on the balls of her feet, eyes raking over the array of toppings. “Can you put caramel and chocolate sauce on it? And Heath bar pieces, chopped strawberries, and M&Ms.”

“Yeah, sure thing.”

It took all of her self-control not to press her nose against the glass as she watched them make it. Some small part of her balked at the sight of three huge scoops of ice cream and all the toppings, but she quieted it. She had a second shot at being a teenager, and that meant never taking her garbage disposal stomach and body made of rubber bands for granted ever again.

She hummed absently to herself, only to pause halfway through the tune. How did it go again? She tried repeating the first half, only to get stuck at the same spot. Oh, this was going to bug the crap out of her. It wasn’t like she could look it up, not when the song wouldn’t come out for almost ten years—

Her phone vibrated in her purse, and she checked it absentmindedly, zeroing in for a moment on the DAD displayed on the screen. After a moment, she put it back without answering. If it was that important, he could text.

Sure enough, her phone gave a short buzz. New text message—he hadn’t even bothered to leave a voicemail.

DAD I need you to talk to your brother.

Angie checked her banana split’s progress with a glance, and replied.

lol why

DAD He’s not listening to me. We both know the courts favor the mother so if we’re going to beat her I need both of you on your A game.

Angie ground her teeth until her jaw creaked.

what do you need me to do

DAD Just coach him on how to talk about her. You’re a smart lady, I know you can do it. He’s always getting scuffed up at practice, just have him say the bruises came from her. Throw in a drinking problem if you have to, just keep your stories straight.

why father dearest i’m surprised at you you want me to lie under oath?

DAD Just talk to him, will you? Keep your stories straight, don’t get too outlandish, and we’ll get out of this with everything we want. You’ll never have to hear the word no again, I promise.

ok daddy ill do my best!

DAD Good girl. You’re the smartest girl I know. Smarter than your mom, smarter than her bitch lawyer. Love you!

“Order up!”

Angie brought her banana split to the table with the clearest view of the door. It took her a moment to decide how to begin, then nearly a full minute balancing equal parts ice cream, banana, and toppings in a single spoonful. She managed it in the end.

Mood lifted, she unlocked her phone again and made a call. “Heeeey, Anika.”

“Need I remind you that phone calls are billable,” her mother’s lawyer said dryly.

“Yeah, I’ll be quick, I have some incriminating text messages I think you’ll be interested in?”

The sound of rustling papers paused. “Go on…?”

“Dad just told me to lie to the judge,” Angie explained, twirling a thin ribbon of caramel around her spoon. “And to coach Eric to lie to the judge. I took screenshots.”

Anika cursed softly under her breath. “Thank you for telling me. Send them to your mom, okay? Thank you.”

“Yeah, no problem.”

The bell above the ice cream parlor door jingled, and Angie perked up as both Damian (Raph?) and Erin walked in. She waved them over, grinning when both pairs of eyes widened at her treat.

“That thing’s half the size of your head,” Erin pointed out.

“Sure is, you guys came just in time.” Angie nudged it across the table, along with the two extra spoons. “If we split it, I’ll have enough room for a milkshake chaser.”

“You’re a monster,” Damian said delightedly. “Oh shit, are those Heath bars?” He dug in without waiting for an answer.

“They’re peanut butter cups,” she said solemnly, once he’d taken a bite and could probably tell they weren’t. “I added them just to hurt you.” Damian rolled his eyes and dug his spoon back in.

Erin stared at her, probably still baffled by the gentle banter, but at least she looked more curious than infuriated, like instead of being suspicious she simply didn’t know what to make of Angie.

“So, you guys talked?” Angie asked carefully. “Are we… all good?”

“I think so,” Damian replied, shooting a cautious glance at Erin.

“You’re on thin ice,” Erin informed her as she helped herself to the chocolate scoop.

“Fair.” Angie didn’t remember Erin putting up quite as much of a fight, but then, it had been years when they’d reconnected before. This time around, it was still fresh.

“The ice cream helps,” Erin added, slightly muffled by the spoon in her mouth.

“Noted.” Angie paused, weighed her options, and shrugged. No harm no foul, probably. “Hey, you’re a musician, right?”

Erin swallowed. “Yeah, why?”

“And not just a performer, but you write music too, right?”

“Yeeaaah?” Erin squinted suspiciously. Beside her, Damian shot Angie a warning glare.

“If I give you half a tune, could you resolve it?”

Erin was staring at her like she’d grown a second head. “Probably.”

“Great!” Angie hummed the earworm from earlier. “How would the next part go?”

Erin repeated it to herself, nodding along. After a moment, she said, “Probably like—”

And sure enough, there it was. The rest of the chorus’s tune came rushing back to Angie’s memory, and she breathed a sigh of relief. 

“Thanks! That was driving me nuts.” Angie returned to her banana split, ignoring Damian’s growing scowl.

Later, when Erin was in the bathroom and  Angelique was standing in line to order her promised milkshake, Damian dug his elbow into her side. “You’re not as slick as you think you are,” he muttered.

“What?” Angie said innocently. “I didn’t give anything away.”

“You just taught her half the chorus of a song she’s eight years away from writing!”

“I’ve planted a seed,” Angie insisted. “I’ve created a stable time loop.”

“That is not what you did and you know it.” Damian pursed his lips, clearly trying to stay annoyed with her. “I barely avoided spoiling her transition, and that’s after she asked me to my face.”

Angie grinned. “So you haven’t told her she’s a genderfluid punk rocker yet?”

“No. Because she’s not a genderfluid punk rocker yet.”

“And now, when she becomes one,” Angie said with a smile, “she’s going to look back on this day and laugh.”

[dearlenore]

Hii! I was wondering if you could do Spencer Reid x male reader (female is fine if your more comfortable with it) the reader is a Italian chef who runs their own restaurant and Spencer loves their food, that one day he brings their food in for the team for lunch sense they’ve all been working really hard and as soon as Rossi tastes the food he immediately says this is the best food that he’s ever had and it’s even better then his own food, the team agrees with Rossi and all of them want to know where he got it so they can get it themselves. Spencer blushes and tells them that his partner made it in their restaurant and the teams eyes go wide, Rossi demands that he seems them so he can tell them how good it is and ask for the recipe.

Also I love your work!

Absolutely!! My first request giggling kicking my feet blushing I’m so excited!!😭❤️ love uuuu tysm for reading my work

TI AMO MEANS I LOVE YOU • S.REID

SUMMARY: When Spencer brings in a homemade Italian lunch for the BAU team, the last thing he expects is for Rossi to declare it the best food he’s ever had—better than his own. The rest of the team quickly agrees, eager to know where it came from. Blushing, Spencer admits that his partner made it, leaving everyone stunned. Rossi insists on meeting the mystery chef to give his compliments (and demand their recipes), to the person who’s stolen both Spencer’s heart and their appetites.

PAIRING: bf!reader x spencer

tags: male reader, reader is a chef, Spencer being obsessed with his boyfriend, canon cm violence mentions, Rossi being Rossi, PURE FLUFF<3

a/n: first time writing male reader sorta nervous, also super rushed because I’m incredibly excited to write this!!

w/c: 1.7K

“HOW’S THE FOOD?” You smiled, balancing a stack of plates in your arms as you strolled past Spencer’s table.

“Like my last meal on death row,” he mumbled through a mouthful, eating like a man starved.

You rolled your eyes with a playful scoff. “Speaking of death row, what happened to that guy you were telling me about?” You hummed, setting the plates on a nearby cart for the busboy.

Spencer swallowed before answering. “Oh, he got sentenced to life without parole.”

“Really?” You raised a brow, leaning slightly against the table. “They don’t do the death penalty there?”

“They do,” Spencer nodded, cutting another bite of his food. “He just took a deal—gave up the locations of the other victims we hadn’t found yet.”

You nodded in understanding, wiping your hands on a rag before sliding into the seat across from him. Folding your arms on the table, you smirked. “Slow down, Spence, you’re gonna choke.”

He looked up at you, cheeks slightly puffed with food, and swallowed hard before giving a sheepish smile. “Not my fault you cook like a Michelin-star chef.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”

Spencer hesitated for a moment, then set his fork down, fidgeting slightly. “By the way…” He glanced up at you. “Do you think you could make something for my coworkers tomorrow?” His voice held a nervous edge, though he had no reason to be—when had you ever told him no?

You grinned, already standing. “Of course, Spence. I’ll let the kitchen know now.” Leaning down, you pressed a quick kiss to his lips. “I’ll be right back, but if you leave before I’m back—goodnight.”

Spencer caught your hand before you pulled away, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “Goodnight, my love.”

You shot him one last warm smile before disappearing into the kitchen, leaving him to savor both the food and the lingering warmth of your touch.

SPENCER STEPPED INTO the BAU bullpen, balancing two large bags in his arms as he made his way to the conference room. The scent of rich tomato sauce, fresh herbs, and warm bread trailed behind him, instantly catching the attention of his teammates.

“What’s this, kid?” Morgan asked, raising a brow as Spencer set the bags down on the table.

“I brought lunch,” Spencer announced, his voice carrying a rare note of pride.

“Ooo, tell me it’s something good!” Penelope practically bounced over, already reaching for one of the bags.

“Smells like Italian,” Prentiss noted, peeking inside.

“Is it authentic?” Rossi asked, arms crossed, clearly skeptical.

Spencer only grinned. “Trust me on this one.”

As the team unpacked the containers, the room filled with the unmistakable aroma of fresh pasta, slow-cooked sauces, and perfectly seasoned meats. The moment Rossi lifted the lid off a tray of lasagna, his eyes widened.

“Wait a minute…” he muttered, taking in the layers of perfectly baked pasta, ricotta, and bubbling cheese. “Where exactly did you get this from?”

Spencer cleared his throat, suddenly feeling a little shy under the weight of everyone’s curiosity. “My partner made it,” he admitted, pushing up his sleeves. “They own a restaurant.”

Silence. Then—

“Hold on,” JJ spoke up, fork already in hand. “You mean to tell me you’ve been dating a chef and just now decided to share their food with us?”

“That’s cold, pretty boy,” Morgan teased, already digging into his plate of pasta. His teasing immediately stopped when he took a bite. His eyes fluttered shut. “Oh damn—okay, okay, I take it back. I’d keep this place a secret too.”

Prentiss took a bite of her own meal and let out a small, involuntary groan of approval. “Holy—Spence, this is incredible.”

Penelope was already halfway through her plate. “Tell your partner I love them. Seriously. I might leave Kevin for them.”

But the biggest reaction came from Rossi. He took a deliberate, measured bite of the lasagna, chewing slowly. The team watched in anticipation as he swallowed, then let out a deep sigh.

“This…” Rossi said, setting his fork down with a dramatic pause. “This is the best damn Italian food I’ve ever had.”

Everyone’s heads snapped toward him.

“Wait, better than yours?” JJ asked, eyes wide

Rossi sighed again, looking almost pained. “I can’t believe I’m saying this… but yes.”

The team erupted in laughter and mock shock, and Spencer, still slightly flushed, couldn’t help but smile as he watched his friends enjoy every bite.

“Well, I guess we have to go to this restaurant now,” Prentiss said, nudging Spencer.

Rossi nodded firmly. “I need to meet this culinary genius. And ask for their recipe.”

Spencer chuckled, already knowing his partner wouldn’t give up their secrets so easily. But as he watched his team savor every bite, he felt nothing but pride—both for them loving the food and for the person who made it.

“You really want to meet them?”

“Are you kidding?” Morgan scoffed. “We need to. If this is what they’re cooking for you on a regular basis, I need to know what I have to do to get a plate.”

“Same,” JJ chimed in, wiping her mouth with a napkin. “I’m actually a little jealous.”

“Just a little?” Penelope teased. “I’m ready to propose.”

Spencer chuckled, shaking his head. “I was actually thinking about introducing you all, but now I’m afraid you’ll steal them from me.”

“No promises,” Prentiss smirked.

Rossi, ever the strategist, took one final sip of his coffee before making his move. “Tell you what, Spencer—I’ll make this easy. I have an excellent bottle of Barolo at home, and I’d be more than happy to share it… if your partner brings more of whatever magic they cooked today.”

Spencer arched a brow. “So, let me get this straight—you want me to invite them over to your place after work, just so you can bribe them with wine and try to get their recipes?”

Rossi spread his hands in a what can I say? gesture. “When you put it like that, yes.”

The rest of the team murmured in agreement, looking at Spencer expectantly. He sighed, shaking his head with a small, amused smile.

“Fine,” he relented. “I’ll ask them if they’re up for it. But I’m warning you now—don’t get your hopes up about those recipes.”

Rossi smirked. “Oh, we’ll see about that.”

With that, the plan was set: after work, they would all head to Rossi’s place for wine, conversation, and—if they were lucky—another round of the best Italian food they’d ever had. Spencer could already picture his partner rolling their eyes at the team’s antics, but he knew they’d have a good time.

And, if nothing else, it would be entertaining to watch Rossi try and charm his way into their kitchen secrets.

SPENCER PULLED INTO Rossi’s driveway, glancing at his partner in the passenger seat. “You don’t have to be nervous,” he assured them, though he knew it was easier said than done.

His partner huffed a quiet laugh, adjusting the containers of food they had carefully balanced on their lap. “Oh, I’m not nervous about meeting them,” they teased. “I’m just mentally preparing for Rossi trying to interrogate me for my recipes.”

Spencer chuckled. “That’s a valid concern.”

With that, they stepped out of the car, Spencer taking the heavier bags while his partner carried the rest. As they approached the front door, they could already hear the lively chatter of the team inside. Before Spencer could even knock, the door swung open, revealing an eager Penelope.

“Oh my god, it’s the culinary genius!” she practically squealed, pulling Spencer’s partner into a quick but enthusiastic hug. “I’ve been dreaming about your food all day.”

“You and me both,” Morgan grinned from inside. “Come on in, we’ve been waiting for you.”

Spencer’s partner shot him an amused look before stepping inside, immediately greeted by warm smiles and excited energy. Rossi, ever the host, was already pouring glasses of wine as he approached.

“You must be the mastermind behind today’s lunch,” Rossi said, offering a charming smile as he handed them a glass. “David Rossi. It’s an absolute pleasure.”

Spencer’s partner shook his hand, already seeing the calculating look in his eyes. “Likewise.”

“Now, I have to ask—”

Spencer groaned. “Rossi.”

His partner smirked. “Let me guess. You want to know how I made the lasagna?”

Rossi placed a hand over his heart in mock offense. “What? Can’t an old Italian appreciate a fine meal without ulterior motives?”

“No,” the team responded in unison.

Rossi sighed, taking a sip of his wine. “Alright, fair. But you can’t blame me for trying.”

Laughing, Spencer’s partner set the containers of food on the dining table. “I figured as much, so I brought more than just lasagna. Hope you all came hungry. And… I’m more than happy to share lasagna recipe with you, for Spencer’s sake.”

At that, the team eagerly gathered around as the lids were removed, revealing an impressive spread—pasta, fresh bread, meatballs, and a beautifully plated caprese salad.

“Okay, yeah,” JJ breathed, eyes wide. “I’m officially in love.”

They all sat down, plates quickly filling up as conversation flowed. Spencer watched as his partner settled in with ease, fielding questions from Rossi about ingredients, dodging Penelope’s playful attempts to set up a standing meal subscription, and listening to Morgan dramatically declare that they’d ruined every other Italian restaurant for him.

As the night went on, laughter and good food filled the space, the warmth of the moment wrapping around Spencer like a comfort he never knew he needed. His partner fit in seamlessly, like they had always been a part of this odd, dysfunctional family.

Rossi raised his glass. “To damn good food and even better company.”

The team echoed the toast, glasses clinking together. Spencer glanced at his partner, a soft smile tugging at his lips.

Yeah, this was exactly where they were meant to be.

“Cheers” You smiled as you clinked your glass with them.

[adore-laur]

would love to see how dadrry would react if his girls asked him for a baby brother 🤭

——

At dinner, after Harry picked the girls up from preschool and daycare, your eldest rambles on about her classroom adventures through spoonfuls of homemade fruit pasta. You smile at her with an undefinable amount of fondness while hanging on to every word. She seems to be loving school and adapting just fine to not seeing her parents as often throughout the weekdays. It could crumble your heart into ruins if you let it, but you focus on the bright side: it's one less thing to worry about when you're away from your babies. She's safe, she's happy, and while you miss her dearly during the day, her independence is blooming beautifully. It's evident in how she can hardly sit still in the morning.

Harry listens intently, only interspersing questions when appropriate so as not to make her lose her train of thought. Your youngest is sitting on his lap, secured by his fingers splayed across her tummy, while his other hand absentmindedly pretends to be an airplane serving applesauce straight into her awaiting mouth. It's a blissfully domestic scene, and you sometimes wish you could view it outside of your body and witness the pure, tangible love surrounding the kitchen table from an outsider's perspective.

The mellow evening sunlight washes the room in a dandelion-colored hue, and the California heat floats through the window to warm your soul. Crashing ocean waves accompany the sound of silverware clinking and the sweet lilt of your daughter's voice. With the weekend ahead, you feel a strong sense of contentedness. Being at home with the entire family, with no obligations pulling you apart, feels like diving into a pool on a hot summer day—it relaxes your muscles and rejuvenates your mind.

In the middle of a story about finding worms on the pavement during recess, your daughter, with unbridled enthusiasm, says, "A friend I talked to today told me she has a baby brother."

"Really?" Harry replies, matching her enthusiasm. "Did you tell her you have a sister?"

"Yeah, and I also told her I want a brother."

The bite of grilled chicken you swallow almost gets stuck on the way down your esophagus. Your eyes shoot to Harry, whose eyes are already locked on yours with humorous shock swimming in them. He hides his smile against the baby's head before kissing it. Then, he waves his hand, silently signaling for you to take the lead.

"A brother," you say slowly, fidgeting with the napkin beside your plate. "You want a baby brother. When... sorry, how long have you been thinking about this?"

"Since today at school!" On the high chair, she sits on her knees and beams with excitement. "My friend says her brother is cute and fat. Now I want one."

Harry, your savior, jumps in by saying, "Your baby sister is cute. And, well, she's chubby." He pats her precious little potbelly and bounces her in his lap. "Like most babies are."

"I want a baby sister and brother."

"Why do you want a brother?" you ask, mystified by the unexpected dinner conversation. Before her little sister was conceived, she only asked for a sibling. Now she's getting specific, and you're lost on how to answer adequately.

"Because." Dead silence follows her response as she stabs her silicone fork into the last pineapple tidbit in her bowl.

"Fair enough," Harry says. There's a sneaky glint in his gaze, and you know he's enjoying this subject matter far too much. You never have to worry about bringing up the prospect of having another baby together since you know he's all in. But since you're the one who carries the babies and pushes them out, he understands you're not quite ready yet. Or, at least, your body isn't.

"We can't guarantee you a brother," you say gently. "That's not how it works."

She frowns, looking at you and then at Harry. "How does it work?"

Harry snorts and stands up to begin clearing the empty dishes. "You should save that question for another time, lovebug." He kisses her cheek as he passes by. "C'mon, show me how Mommy taught you to wash your hands."

——

Later that night in bed, you lay your head on Harry's bare chest and delicately trace your fingers along the length of his bicep. The room is still, and his breathing is a constant sound and rhythm against your skin. Knowing you get to bask in his presence all day tomorrow is a wonderful thought to fall asleep to.

The weekend plans are still in discussion. Maybe you'll all just stay home and have a beach day. Maybe you'll take the kids to the park and fly the kites Harry recently bought for a breezy day. Whatever may come, you know there will be love and laughter in abundance.

"I need your breakfast order for tomorrow," Harry says, his voice gruff. He had a busy day at work, so you took over the kid's bedtime routine while he luxuriated in a long, hot shower and did his nightly stretches.

"I can get up to help," you reply. You know it's quite literally his job to cook meals for people, but you want to take a load off his shoulders. Going into parent mode after a long work week is no easy feat for anyone. It requires teamwork.

"No, you're sleeping in." He wraps you in his arms and buries his nose into your hair. "I'm serving you breakfast in bed with a side of cuddles."

You smile sleepily. "I'd like that. I'll eat whatever you make, by the way. Surprise me."

He squeezes you, slides his thigh between yours, and murmurs, "Think I'll eat you instead."

You lift your head and kiss his mint-flavored lips to shut him up. He always likes to start things right before bedtime. There's something about the intimacy of being alone with a locked door in the quiet night with the man you wake up to every morning. It's rare to indulge in moments like these.

"So, a baby brother, huh?" you say, switching gears to more innocent matters. You need all the sleep you can get tonight.

Harry laughs, his eyebrows raised as he rubs his hand down his face. "She kind of demanded it, didn't she?"

"Oh, don't even start with that." He'll use anything as a way to inspire the idea of a third child.

"You know my answer. And hers, apparently. I'll be patiently waiting until you say the word."

"What's the word?"

He hums a deep, thoughtful rumble beneath you. "Let's make another baby."

"How discreet," you say, laying your head back on his chest. "Anyway, I think a two-year gap is what works best. It gives me time to, you know, recover from the craziness and sleep deprivation."

"You want another baby with me?"

The fact that he even has to ask is befuddling. There is no one you would rather do this with. He's the best husband and the best father—the family you’re creating with him is just beginning.

"Yeah," you say softly, admiring the vulnerable look in his eyes. "One more. Maybe two."

Harry pleasurably groans and shifts his hips, the mere idea of knocking you up again somehow turning him on. You feel his hardness, which makes you roll your eyes. Men are too easy.

Once he settles down, he says, "Take all the time you need, sweetheart. I'm tremendously happy with what we have right now."

"What if we end up having another girl?"

"Then consider me the luckiest man in the universe." He tilts his head on the pillow. "Is it bad if I secretly hope that happens?"

"You’d have three princesses to spoil rotten."

"Four," he whispers, tapping his fingers along your spine. With a sleepy sigh, he adds, "It's been hard being away from them. From you."

Although he keeps his promise of always being home by dinnertime, he doesn't always get to drop the girls off at school in the morning. By the time you get them settled in the car, he's already in the trenches at work. To make up for it, he cooks their breakfasts and kisses them goodbye before he leaves.

"We have our trip to Italy next month," you mention.

"Fuck, that's right." Harry seamlessly flips you over so that he's hovering over you. "Perfect time and place for baby-making. Maybe we should start practicing right now."

You place your palm over his mouth and say, "Shut up."

For the next hour, he uses his mouth for… other reasons.

——

[cup1d5bow]

Warnings!! Oral (F&M receiving) praise. Overstimulation, they fuck in haithams office. Mating press. Reader is wearing a dress for plot sake. Pussy job and no protection (wrap it b4 u tap it pls) creampie. Oh and a bit of a dacryphila kink, if u rlly rlly observe.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

He never thought he was special to you.

You who were always so kind and helpful to everyone.

You who always smiled at him and made butterflies erupt in his stomach.

You who conveniently happened to be the grand sages secretary.

You who was now his (temporary) secretary.

You who was now sucking his dick under his desk.

You were so pretty, those pretty little tears running down your face, drool falling onto his thighs as you fruitlessly try to take all of him in your throat.

God it felt better than he dreamt it would. Truthfully he was looking at you. For so very long he had one hell of a crush, that developed into full blown feelings. That somehow led to him with his fist wrapped around his cock at the thought of you late at night.

He never knew you thought of him like that as well, he never knew all those lingering touches and delicious homemade lunches were special.

I mean how was he supposed to know? You were as sweet as honey to everyone.

And besides he was way too socially awkward to even bring up such a topic.

But when you came to him fidgeting and unable to meet his gaze as you confessed your love to him, he almost cried out of joy.

Now one happy kiss turned to another long and heated one and suddenly you were under his desk, sucking his cock like it was your job.

His hand across his mouth to hold back choked groans and grunts. "(n-name) fuck just like that". He managed to hiss out as you swirl your tongue around his cock head.

Al haitham could feel his orgasm coming as he brought you up from your knees. He brought you into a long kiss tasting himself on your tongue

You yelped as he abruptly lifted you up on his desk and knelt down. You covered your face with your hands as your lover pushed your legs apart, lifting up your dress marveling at your powder pink panties, matching quite well with your pastel pink thigh highs socks.

"Al-haitham you don't have to-"

you gasped as he nibbled on the inside of your thigh creating a dark hickey, effectively shutting you up.

Oh he was such a tease

leaving soft kisses on your covered cunt, the flat of his tongue licking a stripe from your hole to your clit lingering there before blowing air onto your twitchy cunt.

"Al haitham please, stop teasing"

You managed to mumble out with a pout. He chuckled

"Since you asked so nicely" you nearly scoffed at the smug tone he used.

You lifted up your hips as he pulled down your panties, you didn't even notice him stuff it in his pocket

'How cute' he thought watching you squirm and twitch from his intense gaze.

Al haitham groaned against you as his tongue touched your dripping pussy, "so delicious.."

You gasped as he gripped your thighs harder and pulled you closer.

He was messy as he ate you out drool and slick dripping down his chin as he tongue fucked you, fingers coming up to poke and prod at your clenching hole

"Haithaim please-" Al haitham moaned as he inserted a single digit into your warmth.

You were so tight and warm and oh so wet. You whimpered as he pulled his finger in and out of you, slowly adding a second.

You gasped, eyes rolling to the back of your head, back arching as he hit that on spongy spot in you

You could feel a knot form in your stomach.

"I-im close. Hah! Please more al-haitham please!"

You moaned gripping onto his grey hair to pull him closer to your heat. Gods he was so good.

Removing his finger from your hole he replaced it with his tongue and used his fingers to draw tight circles on your clit. He wanted to taste you when you cum.

You felt weightless as your first orgasm hit you. You would have screamed if you didn't cover your mouth with your hand.

Eyes rolling to the back of your head as your grey haired lover worked you through your first orgasm.

"W-wait al haitham-" Al haitham let out a gutteral moan as your fingers dug into the back of his neck, overstimulating you for his pleasure. Could you blame him though? You were so sweet and dripping. Just. for. Him.

Besides he was just making sure this wasn't a dream.

It wasn't his fault right :(?

You didn't realize how fast your second orgasm was creeping up on until after you let out a silent moan, jaw dropping, your legs shaking as you came all over his mouth, tears falling from your beautiful eyes.

Al haitham's eyes rolled to the back of his head as you came on his tongue once again.

Shit he could definitely get used to this.

"(Name).." Al haitham moaned as he departed from your cunt to lay kisses on your quivering thighs.

He led his way up your body. Pulling the top of your dress down to get easy access to your beautiful breasts. God you were so perfect.

He gently pushed you back onto his desk, discreetly pushing important paperwork and stationary to the floor, all while sucking on your left nipple while pinching the other one.

He nearly whimpered as his aching cock brushes up against your thigh.

You reach down grabbing his heavy cock to align with your pussy, breathing heavily as it brushes against your clit.

Haitham smirked against your nipple as he moved back and forth between your soaked folds, catching onto your clit every time he moved forward.

He was such a tease.

But archons did it feel good.

Back and forth.

Back and forth.

Back and forth.

He moved slowly, sometimes slipping his tip into your hole just to pull it out again, this continued till you let out a whine.

"Please..." you gave in. "finally" he thought. The grey haired man let out a low chuckle, "please what sweetheart?"

He almost gave in seeing the unshed tears in your lashes, it only made his cock harder. His tip a deep scarlet.

"Please put it in!! Haven't i been a good girl for you?"

That was his breaking point.

He pushed your knees up to your shoulders, the stretch a bit uncomfortable, leaning down to press a kiss onto your pouty lips before sliding into your cunt.

No words could describe how full you were, almost reaching your cervix with how deep he was in you. You didn't know whether to cry in displeasure or moan in relief when he pulled out slowly before thrusting back in harder.

Your hands hooked themselves onto his shoulders, nails digging in leaving bright red marks which only made Al haitham moan louder. You instantly kissed him to shut him up. You didn't need anyone walking in.

Al haitham was good near insatiable, hips snapping into yours at a vigorous speed never slowing down as, skin slapping, mufffled moans and slight creaking from the desk filled the room.

Good lord he didn't know if he could stop. Eventually you had to break the kiss for air and he immediately went down to kiss your neck and licking, sucking and biting. Every time he lifted his head you would see a new purple mark left there.

"Haitham! Im gonna cum...please im cumming...ngh o-oh!" Your vision filled with block splotches, your toes curled and stomach clenched, biting into Al haitham's neck to muffle your scream as you creamed on his cock.

The acting grand sage thought he saw Celestia as he felt your pussy clench impossibly tighter.

He panted heavily, reaching a hand down to press against your stomach.

"Oh (name)...gonna.. fuck.. cumming! Ngh-"

He saw stars as he released white ropes of sticky cum into your abused pussy.

Your breaths were in sync as you both came down from your high.

Al haitham pulled out of you watching his cum leak out of you, his eyes darkening a bit as he watched it.

You were about to call out to him before he flipped your over, hard nipples pressed tightly against the cool desk.

A hand wrapped stiffly around the back of your neck.

"W-what..?" You managed to whimper out against the desk

"Shh sweetheart, be good for me now"

You turned your head to see his face a bit as his hand against your neck loosened its grip a bit, silently asking for permission. You smiled at him and nodded your head.

That was all he needed for him to enter your swollen and cum dripping pussy once again, head thrown back muttering broken apologies as his hips rutted against your ass like an animal in heat.

The pace he set was brutal, never slowing down one bit. That little twinge of pain makes the experience even better.

You swore you heard a choked whimper from Al haitham as you tightened up around him.

Drool and tears made the desk wet.

Al haitham leaned over you to kiss your neck and back, one hand reaching under to start rubbing tight circles on your neglected enlarged clit.

He was gonna cum soon and he was gonna make sure you did too.

Your moans increased in pitch as your knees buckled and the knot forming in your stomach felt weirdly different.

You didn't even have time to warn him as your 4th orgasm washed over you. Your juices squirting onto his thighs dripping down his balls and onto the desk.

Al haitham leaned back and stared in awe as you made a mess everywhere.

His thrusts became jerky and sloppy as he neared his orgasm.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! (N-name)!"

He let out an ungodly moan as he came deep inside your overused cunt. His grip on ur waist bound to leave marks.

You both panted loudly, you let out muffled noises as he pulled out of you slowly before reaching somewhere on the floor for a box of tissue. Wincing as he cleaned you up and best as he could without putting pressure on your sore cunt. Laying kisses on your back and whispering sweet praises of how good you did into your ear.

You pushed yourself off of the desk and turned around slowly Al haitham immediately pulling you into his arms and laying kisses onto your face, you giggling at his actions. You fixed your dress and pulling your now lover into a sweet kiss.

All was calm till you heard a knock at the door. You gasped as you pushed Al haitham away, both of you making yourselves presentable.

You pushed the small paper bin of Al -haithams with the dirty tissues under his desk, before panicking as you realized you couldn't find your panties!

But it was too late as the door opened to see you standing next to Al haithams desk with him sitting down in his chair.

You nervously held onto the bottom of your dress. As Al haitham slyly smirked at your nervousness.

"Al Haitham you absolute idiot you stole my keys again-! Oh hey (name), are we still on for our spa day tomorrow?"

You nodded your head smiling at the blonde. "Yeah of-ofcourse!"

Al haitham cleared his throat before digging in his pocket looking for Kaveh's keys. "Here you take your keys." He threw them at the blonde causing him to panic to catch them. "Now leave."

The dramatic blonde scoffed before glancing at you with sympathy in his eyes, how could you work under such a jerk?

"Bye (name)! I'll see you tomorrow!" You sent a smile back as he left the room.

You let out a sigh of relief before looking around the office for your underwear.

"Hey haitham have you seen my-"

"Panties? Hmm yes quite the pretty pair, i think i'll be keeping them." He said pulling them out his pocket and observing them.

[angelbaby-fics]

Thanksgiving (Pt. 2)

Pairing: Cg!Stucky x Little!Reader

Word Count: 850

(part 1)

A/N: And here's part two!! I tried to pack it full of cozy fluff because thats what I've been needing lately 💕 I hope you guys like this & hopefully I'll have more soon!

“So, what's the verdict?” Bucky whispered to Steve as the two of you emerged from your bedroom. 

“We’re going to say hello,” Steve replies.

“All three of us?”

Steve rolled his eyes.

“Oh, Buck, not you too. It took me long enough to convince this one.” “Kidding!” Bucky laughed, ruffling your hair. “It's gonna be fun, right babydoll?” 

You nodded. Steve carried you to the front door, setting you down on the bench to help you put on your shoes. As he tied them, Bucky secured your hat onto your head, pulling it a little too far over your eyes. You giggled as you waited for him to pull it back up like he always did; when he did, he greeted you with a smile.

“Alright, ready to rock baby?” Bucky asked.

“Mhm!” You nodded, reaching your arms up to him. 

Bucky picked you up and carried you to the car, strapping you into your car seat while Steve started the car and turned the heat on. 

“Do you want me to sit with you, or do you want alone time on the drive?” “Lone time, please,” you answered, and so Bucky planted a kiss on your forehead before getting into the front passenger seat beside Steve. 

The drive was peaceful, your daddies’ quiet voices just audible above the soft jazz drifting from the car stereo. The holiday meant traffic was scarce, so the journey to Tony’s place didn’t take quite as long as it usually did. Still, you used this time just to breathe and think. You fidgeted with the stuffie attached to your car seat, running your fingers over its silken ears to soothe yourself. You knew you weren’t going to be at 100% social battery today and that was okay, you just needed enough energy to get through it without pushing yourself too far. As you pulled into Tony’s driveway, Steve ran through your gameplan. 

“I’ll do most of the socializing, alright? All you two need to do is say hi to your friends and thank Tony and Pepper for inviting us.” Bucky rolled his eyes before Steve added “I saw that!”

Bucky got you out of your car seat and carried you up to the front door, one hand cradling you in his arms and the other holding Steve’s hand. Steve knocked on the door and it quickly opened to warm light, lively chatter, and the smell of home cooked food.

Steve hugged Tony, quick to say hello and explain the situation. You’d all be staying for just a bit, not for dinner, but that you were happy to be there nonetheless. Tony was more than understanding, no stranger to not wanting to be around other people sometimes. When you entered the main party space, Steve broke off from your trio to make his rounds, hugging everyone he recognized and introducing himself to everyone he didn’t. Meanwhile, Bucky carried you over to the food table, grabbing some snacks for the two of you to munch on while you waited to leave. 

It really wasn’t such a bad time. You sat on the couch curled up into Bucky’s side, your head resting on his pecs, his vibranium arm protectively wrapped around you while you enjoyed some of the homemade fudge that Bruce had brought. Bucky chatted with Sam on the couch, occasionally pausing to say hi to an acquaintance as they walked by, citing you on his chest as the reason why he couldn’t get up and mingle like Steve was. You’d wave at them and give a little smile, your greetings getting slightly less enthusiastic as the evening went on. 

You weren’t getting antsy; on the contrary, where you were afraid the party would overload your senses, you found it actually soothed them. Everyone you loved was gathered together yet still giving you space, respectful of your energy. You had delicious snacks in your tummy and the taste still lingered on your tongue. The light in Tony’s home was tinged with soft orange as the sun started to set, and your eyelids started to feel heavier. Bucky’s fingers combed through your hair, his chest rising and falling and soothing you like a rocking chair. Even at a party full of people, surrounded by love, you felt safe enough to sleep. You’d just drifted off by the time Steve came back around, having successfully mingled with everyone there. 

“Ready to head out?” He asked his husband.

“Shh… this party animal’s sleeping,” Bucky replied, putting a finger to his lips. 

He carefully lifted you from the couch, keeping your position mostly the same as he transferred you fully into his arms. The three of you made your way to the front door, your daddies waving at the other party guests who cooed at your precious sleeping self. 

“Same time next year?” Tony joked as he held the front door open for your family.

“Of course! And thanks for having us,” Steve replied, hugging his friend.

Your head perked up from Bucky’s shoulder, bleary eyed as you remembered your very important mission.

“Tank you Uncle Tony!” You said sleepily, waving as you were carried back to the car.