#if you feel like it lmk in the tags which you picked and why because. i would like to know

[mischievousmoony]

Omg I love ur James fics. You think you could do one where reader finally feels comfortable getting drunk while going out with their group because she knows James is there to take care of her. Ur drunk reader x James interactions are too cute. I feel like I always have a hard time letting go cause I’m afraid I’ll need to take care of my other friends haha. Love your work!

thank u love! i have fun writing them, i just know james would be so caring! ps thank you for being patient ik this request came in a while ago

𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍

⟢ james potter x fem!reader ⊹ 1.0k ⟢ warnings/tags: intoxication (i think that’s it but lmk if i missed any pls)

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

"But what if Sirius tries to get a new tattoo again?" you ask, twisting back and forth with a steady squeak, squeak, squeak of your barstool.

James clasps his hand on your shoulder, turning you one last time to face him. "Remus is watching him."

"What if Marlene tries to go on another one of her adventures?"

Marlene has a knack for getting herself into precarious situations when she gets drunk, which she likes to call her “little adventures.” Usually, this means going home with a stranger, whether it’s for a hookup or to steal their lightbulbs because they looked at her wrong.

"Lily’s got her.”

"What if I do something stupid?" you ask, now swinging your legs. The nerves eating away at you just won’t let you sit still.

James puts his other hand on your knee, soothing you with a gentle squeeze. "I'm watching you," he says. After thinking it over for a moment, he adds, “And I don't think you'll do anything stupid. Even if you do, I'll do something more stupid so that nobody notices."

This earns him a giggle from you, and he’s happy to see you smiling. He picks up your glass, which is now covered in beads of water, plenty of time having passed for condensation to run its course. He dries what he can with a napkin because he knows you hate when the droplets land in your lap.

You once asked him why it happened, even though you knew the answer. He simply told you it was science.

“Science is stupid,” you had said, eyes fixating on several small spots of water soaking into your jeans.

Now, James wraps your glasses with napkins. He holds out your drink, a black napkin enveloped around it, as he asks, “You want to do this, right?”

You peek into the glass and watch the dwindling ice cubes swirl around in a vodka cran; a drink that James had called “beginner friendly.”

“Yeah,” you answer shyly.

James frowns. “It’s okay if you’ve changed your mind.”

You chew your bottom lip, thinking it over. A part of you wants to forget it, but another part of you knows you’d be disappointed in yourself for chickening out again.

You wrap your hand around the glass, cringing at the squish of the soggy napkin beneath your fingertips. You don’t know what’s worse: this feeling or the water dripping all over you. But James’ attempts to help make you feel warm inside, so you don’t complain.

“No, I still want to do this.”

“Then I’m here for you. Promise.” James gives your knee another squeeze.

You cast a look toward your friends. For years, you've nominated yourself as the designated driver. Or you've claimed to have early morning obligations. You've always felt better knowing someone sober was around to deliver plenty of water and carb-rich snacks to your incapacitated friends.

That was your excuse, anyway. Not that it isn't one of your concerns, but truthfully, something about drinking makes you feel uneasy. You always knew your friends were safe because you've been there, ready to hold back anyone's hair or stray them away from bad decisions. If you drank too, how could you be sure your friends would have someone to depend on? How could you be sure you would have someone to depend on?

Then, you started dating James, and you found a level of trust you never knew was possible. You know you can depend on him for anything.

When you admitted to him why you never drink when you go out, he swore up and down that he would be there for you.

Remembering his promise summons a wave of courage. You shoot James a nervous smile, and take your first sip, scrunching your nose as it burns your tongue.

"This is kind of gross."

James barks a laugh, "We can try to find something you'd like better next round. That is, if you decide to have another."

Feeling brave, you do have another. That's when you discovered something called the Cosmic Lemon Fizz; a drink that sparkles with edible glitter and manages to be blue, green, and yellow all at once. You laughed when you saw it, not knowing how in for it you were.

"Jamie!" you exclaim after taking a sip of your third Cosmic Lemon Fizz. "This tastes like happy feels!" you gasp as if the thought had just occurred to you, despite this being the fourth time you tell him.

"I bet it does!" James cheers. His eyes wrinkle in the corners as he beams at you.

"You should try one!" you declare, and immediately try to flag over the bartender.

James smoothly takes your hand, stopping you as he says, "No can do. Made a promise to a pretty girl that I wouldn't have a drop tonight."

You whip your head around. "Who!?" you ask, eyes wide.

"Who do you think, pretty girl," he says, poking you in the side.

Giggles escape you and you swat his hand away. He doesn't go far, lifting his arm to brush some stray hairs out of your face. His hand lingers on the side of your face, soothing the pad of his thumb against your cheek.

You lean into his touch, gazing up at him with an affectionate glaze in your eyes; a look that gives him butterflies.

"Wowww," you say dreamily. "You're handsome."

James feels his heart flip in his chest. "Thank you, love," he says, a soft smile playing at his lips.

"Hey," Sirius says, appearing out of nowhere as he lazily throws an arm over your shoulders, "How's it going over here?"

While you're distracted with Sirius, James waves over the bartender and replaces your drink with water. The next time you reach for your glass, you hesitate.

"Where's my cosmo magic fizzy thingy?" you ask, an eyebrow raised as you glance at James.

"You must've finished it," he shrugs, acting clueless.

"That's like the oldest trick in the book. You replaced it with water and now you're trying to be sneaky!"

"I don't know what you're talking about," James feigns innocence.

You giggle, bringing the straw to your lips. "I knew you'd take care of me. I love you," you say, happily sipping your water.

James feels another eye-wrinkling smile break out on his face. "I love you too, pretty girl."

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

[imminent-danger-came]

Hmhmhmmmm. Thinking about. Monkeys. (< MK and shadowpeach)

[nereidprinc3ss]

do you believe me now? | 5

in which spencer reid and fem!reader are reunited, but the worst kind of sparks are flying. you meet a man named randall. derek morgan buys you a drink (sort of). it seems that some things can't be unsaid.

series masterlist

this series is 18+ warnings/tags: r goes to a bar but doesn't drink alcohol, gets hit on by weird men, dramatic, angst, sorry in advance a/n: surprise! i'll see myself out. love you! lmk your thoughts on this bad boy! i KNOW you'll have some! i'm locking all my doors and the cops are on speed dial after posting this. stay tuned for part six tho

You don’t call Spencer for four days. 

Spencer doesn’t call you for four days. 

It’s scary. 

There’s some texting—mostly him giving you updates on how things are going and when he expects to be back. Mostly you giving the messages a thumbs up and saying nothing else. 

Finally, on Thursday afternoon, his ringtone (the Bill Nye theme) makes you jump as you’re sitting on your bed staring into space. 

His caller ID photo—which is simply his passport photo, because you’d thought it was adorable—stares at you. You stare back. Contemplate not picking up. 

But you’re not quite there yet. 

And you cannot keep listening to Bill Nye the Science Guy. 

The answer button is cold under your thumb, but not as cold as your greeting. 

“Hi.”

You barely recognize your own voice. 

It seems to send Spencer for a loop as well, because his reply is halting. 

“Hey! Hi, um—how are you? I feel like we’ve barely talked this week.”

That would be because you told me my feelings for you are stronger than your feelings for me and I don’t know how to stop making every single word I say secretly mean I love you. We can’t have a conversation without me loving you. It will always be in the room or on the phone with us. To ignore the presence of it is impossible, and I don’t know if I can ignore the absence of yours, either. 

“Uh… yeah. I’m fine. What’s up?”

There’s a pause. 

“We wrapped up this morning. We’re getting on the jet here in a few minutes, and, um—I know it’s not ideal, but we missed Derek’s birthday and Penelope is insisting we all go to his favorite bar tonight. And he told me that for his birthday he wants to meet you. So… would you be up for that?”

“You want… to take me to a bar?”

“No. I mean—I know it’s not really your thing, but we missed Derek’s birthday three years in a row, and—and I understand if you don’t want to meet him tonight, but we wouldn’t have to stay very long and I really, really shouldn’t skip it. Derek has saved my life on more than one occasion.”

“You could go without me.”

More silence. Every second hurts, but you don’t understand why he wants you to come meet his best friend if he thinks the two of you are in different places emotionally. 

But maybe he’s not going to break up with you just yet. Maybe he’s going to keep inviting you to bars and foreign film festivals and bookshops. Maybe he’s going to treat you exactly the same as he always has but with this new added layer of knowledge that the way he treats you isn’t actually love, and it never was, and you’re not sure if it has the potential to ever become love. Because if it did—wouldn’t it have already? What more do you have to offer than what you’ve already given him?

Breakup or no breakup, you feel sick. 

When he speaks his tone is similarly chilly. It’s welcome. You want him mad. If he can’t reciprocate your adoration, then the very least he can do is have the decency to reciprocate your reproach. 

“I could. Is that what you want?”

No. I don’t want any of this. I need you to know me well enough to know that. And if you can’t love me then at least get angry. At least show me you feel something other than passive contentment. 

“Yeah. Sure. I don’t know.”

A pause stretches so long your heart pounds. You watch the elapsed time of the call tick by, second by second, and you wait for the anticipation to crack under the weight of silence, to give way to some terrible jump scare or to give way at all. 

But the words that end the conversation (if you can even call it that) aren’t any great relief. They’re just sad, and chalk full of defeat. 

“Alright. I’ll… I’ll call you later.”

You feel like you’ve swallowed an ice cube. All the words you’d like to say are frozen in your stinging throat. 

“Okay. Um… I’ll let you board now.”

“The jet’s not…” but he trails off. When he speaks again he sounds just as hurt as you’d wanted—and it doesn’t make you feel better at all. “Okay. Bye.”

“Bye.”

The line goes dead, and your face is burning as tears fill your eyes for the hundredth time this week. That call was terrible and poisonous and you don’t feel like yourself. 

Things have gone so wrong so quickly, and all you know how to do is ice him out so he can’t do it to you first. But it’s not going to make this better. No matter how mean you are to him, at the root of it all you feel unloved and scared and alone and Spencer knows things about love and relationships that you don’t. He’s confusing you with all this talk of feeling differently about each other and I’ll be home tomorrow I miss you and things get complicated when one person likes the other more and let’s talk in person and will you come meet my best friend tonight. All of it leaves you motion sick and ugly crying in the fetal position. 

All you have to get through this is who you’ve always been, a little of the person you’ve become, and the love you harbor for Spencer which rattles around in your chest like a nail in an empty toolbox. At the moment it hardly seems helpful. It mocks you, pointing out the pathetic hilarity of your paradox. The only person who can comfort you, the person you want more than anything, is the reason you’re so upset in the first place. But you can’t help being drawn to him. 

Maybe the love you have for Spencer is more like a magnet in a compass. 

Even if he doesn’t feel it for you, you do love Spencer. And that goes beyond just loving the parts of him that like you. To hide from that love would be a gross disservice to yourself and all the work you’ve done to get here. It’s not as if you suddenly know exactly what the answer is—but you’re sure that hiding is the most childish, cowardly thing you could do and the furthest you could get from a resolution. Even if you can’t make him love you back, you refuse to allow yourself to fizzle quietly out of his life. This relationship deserves something more than that. 

So maybe you don’t have a plan when you wipe your eyes and pick up your phone. Maybe there’s no strategy behind your actions as you text Garcia for the bar location. But if you keep running from everything you’ll never get anywhere. All you can do is show up. It seems like the next best step. 

------

The pub isn’t too crowded—but for a Thursday night, you suppose it’s a bit busy. 

Boot heels hooked onto the metal foot-beam of the stool you’re sitting on, elbows resting on the polished mahogany surface of the bar, you’re staring into an untouched mixed drink. Then you glance down the bar to your right, at the man who’d bought it for you. 

Maybe your ensemble gave him the wrong idea. 

Coming to this gathering had required bravery, and you came armored. Your ensemble projects significantly more confidence than you’re currently feeling. It was intentional, a form of self-protection—but now you’re wondering if it’s projecting a little too much confidence. 

All done up, clearly still a little rough around the edges, and sitting alone at a bar was bound to draw the wrong pairs of eyes. 

“Hey, darlin’,” the gruff man says, approaching when you inadvertently catch his gaze. “Are you gonna drink that, or should I? Otherwise I’m lookin’ at eleven dollars right down the drain.”

You avert your eyes, scanning the groups dotted here and there. 

“I’m waiting for friends.”

“Does that make a free drink less appealing?”

He takes the stool next to you, off-gassing the scent of cigarettes and leather. 

“I’m not drinking.”

“Really? I’ve never seen a girl who looks as sad as you do come sit at the bar to stay sober.”

You frown, looking back up at the man next to you. He seems like the Hell’s Angels type—tattooed knuckles, leather jacket, grey beard, and a weathered face that’s clearly spent decades with the sun. Fifties, maybe younger and just looks more rugged. What does it say about how I look tonight that this is the kind of man I’m attracting, you wonder. Maybe you look desperate and just as lonely as you feel. As he claims you do. 

“I’m not sad.”

“Alright. I’ll take your word for it. But a happier girl wouldn’t be all alone.”

“I’m waiting for friends,” you repeat, letting the words drip like venom from your tongue. 

“I’m Randall. See? Now we're friends.”

“I don’t need more friends. I like the ones I have.”

Something catches Randall’s attention long enough to catch yours. He raises his bottle vaguely, gesturing beyond your shoulder. 

“Are those angry lookin’ guys in the suits marching right over here the friends you’re talking about?”

You turn your head, brows furrowed, and immediately see the gentlemen to whom your new pal is pointing out. 

Spencer is storming across the bar looking close to furious (which for him, means an expression so placid it gives you chills) followed by Derek Morgan—a man who you’ve only seen pictures of and is even more impressive in person. 

You hate how your breath catches, how your heart is already beating a little faster than usual at the sight of him even though you’re not exactly pleased with each other right now. 

Suddenly the bubbles in your cocktail are once again fascinating.

“Those are the ones.”

“And why are they dressed for church?”

Church?

“They’re FBI.”

“Ah. My lucky fuckin’ day.”

You almost snort. 

“Hey,” Spencer says sternly, hand settling on your back as he partially fills the small space between you and the strange man. “Who’s this?”

You shrug, sit up a little straighter, and take a shallow breath—not because you’re scared of this man but because Spencer is suddenly so close to you and you can feel his warmth and the air bending around him and the scent of him is genuinely dizzying to you. 

“Randall,” you exhale unenthusiastically. But the odd thing is that you’re rather grateful for Randall’s presence. Because now Spencer is here and you have no idea what you’re going to say to him. 

“Oh,” Randall says, sipping his beer unhurriedly before using it to gesture to Spencer. “You’re the boyfriend. You know, that’s funny, because she didn’t mention a boyfriend.”

“I didn’t mention anything. We weren’t having a real conversation.”

Randy holds his hands up defensively, fingers still wrapped around the neck of a sweating bottle. 

“I’m just saying it’s in-ter-esting. Not trying to start anything.” He stands, pauses for another sip—Spencer obviously isn’t sure what to make of this man because he says nothing. “But listen, man to man—you better buy her some flowers or a real pretty fuckin’ necklace or somethin’ because a happy girl in a happy relationship does not come pout at the bar all by herself.”

“Get out of here, man,” Derek finally speaks up. 

“Yeah, yeah.” He sets his empty bottle down and fishes in his pocket for a cigarette, sticking it between his lips. “But—just for the record—I have a wife. I wasn’t gonna do anything weird. Sometimes when you’re my age you just gotta live a little. Buy a pretty girl a drink. Piss off some Mormons, or whatever the fuck you are.”

This guy sounds like a bad Bruce Springsteen song. But part of you would almost rather hang out with Randall than be forced into a conversation you’re not prepared for with Spencer. 

And whose fault is that, you remind yourself. You decided to come be mature. Suck it up. 

“Goodnight,” Derek emphasizes. 

Spencer doesn’t say a word. You can feel his eyes boring smoking holes into the side of your face, and you look anywhere else.  

“I’ll be here next week after physical therapy like clockwork,” the stranger waves as he ambles away—but not before pointing at you. “You enjoy that drink, friend. And don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

What a weird man. 

There’s silence for a moment—in which Spencer refuses to stop watching you and you refuse to acknowledge that. 

“And here I was thinking Spencer made you up.” Derek has a beautiful smile and a warm, charming cadence as he holds out his hand for you to shake. “I’m Derek.”

You take the proffered hand and shake, offering him a shy smile and introducing yourself in kind. 

“Happy birthday, by the way. Sorry for crashing your party.”

Really, he’s stunning. 

“Thank you, sweetheart. And you’re not crashing anything. I told pretty boy here I wanted to meet you the second he started talking about a friend. But nah, he just wanted to talk and talk and talk about you—” 

“Alright,” Spencer mumbles, blushing, eyes finally torn from your profile. You smile slightly, brows knitting as Derek magically melts some of the terrible tension.

“Pretty boy?”

Before either of them can explain, someone shrieks in your general direction. You startle backward in your seat, and Spencer steps closer, hand sliding up your back as Penelope, JJ, and Emily join your little huddle. For only a second you allow yourself to shrink into him—before you’re straightening your posture like your spine is a metal rod and his touch burns. It’s a knee-jerk defensive reaction for which you have no explanation. You can’t see him, but you don’t feel his hand on you again. 

“Oh my god! Look at this beautiful person who I love!” Penelope exclaims, pushing past Derek to grab your face and kiss both of your cheeks. “Oh my god,” she says again, wiping sticky lipgloss away with her thumbs, “I totally meant to ask before I did that. But your face is just so kissable. I’m so glad you decided to come!”

“Hi, Penelope,” you smile half-heartedly, incapable of reciprocating her cheery mood. Fortunately, she’s cheery enough for a standard commercial flight’s worth of people, and probably thinks of Derek’s birthday as a national holiday—so she doesn’t pick up on this. 

Emily and JJ offer you tamer although perfectly kind greetings. 

“Ooh, what are you drinking?” Emily asks, leaning closer to examine the forgotten beverage in front of you. 

“Not that,” Spencer mutters, grabbing the glass and sliding it away from you. You give him an affronted look—and immediately wish you hadn’t, since you’re meeting his eyes for the first time since he left. His words stall for just a moment as his eyes dart between yours before he’s saying, “you shouldn’t accept a drink if you didn’t watch someone make it.”

The audacity of him to be acting protective makes you scoff. 

“That guy didn’t spike my drink. He was harmless.”

“People thought Ted Bundy was harmless, too.”

It’s such a ridiculous thing to say that you don’t even have a response—your eyes simply narrow and you shake your head. A claustrophobic silence falls over the small group. 

“Okay…” JJ murmurs. “Um, do you guys want to go check out the jukebox with me? We have to play all of the birthday boy’s favorites.”

Several enthusiastic yeses go around, but you’re too busy having a stand off with your boyfriend to take much notice. 

Soon, it’s just the two of you. 

“Controlling isn’t a good look for you,” you finally say, spinning to rest your elbows on the bar once more and studying the bottles of liquor on the shelves beyond. 

“Evasive and avoidant isn’t particularly flattering, either. I was under the impression that you had no intention of coming after that phone call earlier.” 

You scoff again as your blood heats. Already the conversation is going worse than you’d expected—and your expectations were not high. 

“Do you think the cab driver was a serial killer, too? Or maybe the bartender?”

He’s still behind you and slightly to the side—but he leans down, resting his own fists on the bar right next to you and speaking lowly, directly over your shoulder. 

“Why don’t you try speaking to me like we’re adults instead of starting meaningless arguments in order to get under my skin?”

From him, that hurts. 

It’s a branch on the tree of your greatest insecurity—the fear that you’re too inexperienced with relationships and that makes you too immature and he’s been lying every time he says it’s not an issue. Because of course it’s an issue. It’s why you fell in love with him, it’s why you don’t know how to fix it, and it’s why you’re incapable of actually expressing any of your feelings to him.

“Why do you think I’m here right now?” you whisper—as sharp and stinging as a poison dart. “I’m trying to be a fucking adult. I don’t want to be here.”

Silence. 

“Then why did you come?”

His voice is so calm it burns like dry ice. 

“Because! Because you asked me to, because—”

You can’t bring yourself to say it aloud. 

Because I’m obviously still in love with you and I can’t just turn that off. I tried to do the right thing. 

Instead you bury your face in your hands and let it hang in the air, unspoken. You know he knows. You just don’t know why he’s acting like you’re so unreasonable for being upset. 

“Let me make this very clear to you,” Spencer murmurs, brushing your hair away from your ear so tenderly, speaking so softly you could convince yourself that he’ll say something kind. It’s the closest he’s been in days and now that he’s here you feel how much you missed him in your bones. And even though you sense a trap, you can’t help but sit up straighter. You’ll be complicit in your own undoing if it means you can have him close. His breath shakes slightly as he inhales and you brace as best you can. “Nobody is forcing you to be here. You told me you weren’t coming and then you decided to show up. I was ready to give you the space that you were too scared to ask me for. But I can only take responsibility for so much of what is ultimately your bad behavior and your adolescent volatility. You can only blame so much of your bad behavior on inexperience before I run out of patience because I don’t find thoughtlessness and emotional immaturity compelling. I told you that if there is a disparity in the way we feel for each other, that was fine, and I meant it. But if you can’t cope with how I feel about you then don’t let me hold you back. I am not holding you hostage. You can leave whenever you want. So don’t waste your time punishing me because you don’t want to be here. And if you do want to be here, good. I want that too. But act like an adult and make a decision. My leniency has limits, even for you. I am asking that you do not push it any further than you already have.”

You don’t know how long it’s been since your last breath by the time he finishes his address.

Long enough that you’re dizzy when you push away from the bar and shoulder through the throng of patrons as quickly as you reasonably can without outright running. 

Long enough that when you burst out the door into the biting-cold night air, and finally take a deep, gasping breath, it burns and stings and aches and so does your head and your eyes as they well with hot, furious, heartbroken tears. 

You speed-walk to the end of the block, hand clamped over your mouth to muffle your cries and all the curse words you’d love to scream. 

Part of you knows you walked away from the bar in case he decided to try and follow you—but when you look over your shoulder the sidewalk is empty. You should’ve known better than to think he’d follow you after that. But at least it means you can have your breakdown by the relative safety of the bar, leaning your back against the dirty brick facade next to the entrance alcove and sliding down until your butt hits the cold concrete and you don’t even care. 

Who the fuck was that man in the bar who looked like Spencer and sounded like Spencer but spoke to you like this is all your fault, like it’s your fault you love him and he doesn’t love you back, like it’s ridiculous that you’d be upset, like you’re cruel and petty for having feelings about it, about him—for having any fucking feelings at all? And to think that was the man who you let know you more intimately than anyone ever has. Every insecurity you’d ever admitted to him was hurled back in your face like it was nothing. Hell—he even handed you the ones you’d never mentioned. He proved every terrible thought you’ve been having about yourself right. 

How could he be so unabashedly mean to you?

Spencer doesn’t have to love you. It seems clearer now than ever that he doesn’t. But part of you wonders if he suffered some sort of traumatic brain injury because that’s the only explanation for why he could go from treating you how he did before to treating you like he doesn’t even like you. 

You feel like you might throw up. 

“Called it,” a rasping, grumbling voice says from a few feet away. 

You look up, and spot fucking Randall standing under a street light ten feet away, still smoking. 

You go back to studying the tar spots on the sidewalk through bleary eyes. Pebbles sting as they press into your palms. Another one of the universe’s terrible jokes, you suppose. Just earlier you’d thought that you’d rather talk to Randall than Spencer and now here you are and here he is. 

“That kid as much of a dipshit punk as I thought he was?”

Hearing Spencer described as a kid and a dipshit punk is so jarring you almost stop crying. 

“He’s not a dipshit,” you sniff, voice thick with tears as you find yourself explaining Spencer Reid to this stranger for no reason at all. “He has an IQ of 187. He’s a genius.”

“Ah,” he scoffs dismissively, flicking ash from his cigarette. “Dipshit-ism don’t discriminate. Anyone can be one. Even your genius punk boyfriend. As a recovering dipshit myself I know what the work of a fellow dipshit looks like. And this has dipshit written all over it.”

You sob harder. 

Randall speaks calmly around his cigarette. 

“You know, I’m sorry for whatever you got goin’ on. But I’ve never not been the asshole when I got a hysterical woman in front of me. It’s nice that I can confidently say this time it is not my fault.”

The bar door opens, letting a warm burst of jovial music and chatter into the otherwise still night. Steps that are too heavy to be Spencer’s hit the concrete next to you—you look to your left and see Derek Morgan before he looks down and sees you. 

“Hey—you okay out here?”

“Why don’t you go ask your Jehovah’s Witness buddy? He did this.”

Derek makes a face, locating the source of this interjection. 

“Sir, I asked you to leave her alone once and I don’t appreciate being made to repeat myself. Are we clear?”

“Yeah, whatever. Fuck me for making friendly conversation, I guess. Gonna have to call my wife and tell her to pick me up down the street. I don’t want her on the damn phone while she’s driving.”

Randall wanders away again, still muttering to himself and smoking. Derek watches him go, staring daggers into his back until he turns his gaze to you. 

Goodbye, Randall, you think. Great. Now I have neither of them. 

“Hey,” he softens, crouching down to your level. “You okay?”

You sniff, wiping your cheeks and attempting not to smudge your makeup. It’s impossible not to feel awkward—you just met this guy and now he’s here trying to do emotional labor for you on his birthday. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. This is embarrassing.”

“You don’t look fine. Can I do anything for you? Do you want some food? A drink?”

“You really don’t have to—”

“I know, I know. But look—Reid is always talking about you. You’re important to him, and he’s important to me. I’ve never seen him this happy and I’ve known that kid a long time. It is in my best interest that someone maintain you, and if it’s not him, it’ll be me. Call it a favor to him, if that makes you feel better.” Derek is sporting a slightly more modest Cheshire grin again by the end of his sentence. Listening to him speak that way about Spencer speaking about you, it’s impossible not to feel a teeny bit lighter. Even if you’re not entirely sure where you stand on all things Spencer related at the moment. “So I’ll ask you again. Is there anything I can do for you?”

You sniff again. 

“Sure. A ginger ale or something might be good.”

“Got it. I’ll be back. And come inside if Randall tries to run up on you again, okay?”

Despite yourself you manage a laugh at the way he says the name. His warm smile flickers warmer at this.  

“Will do.”

When Derek returns a few minutes later, the plastic cup he’s holding looks decidedly not like ginger ale. 

“Penelope insisted that this is what you would want. I don’t even know.”

You smile slightly as you take the cup, full to the brim with bubbles and thick red syrup. A cherry bobs underneath the layer of cubed ice. 

“Shirley temple,” you chuckle. “I’ll take it. Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome,” he says, flashing that brilliant smile again, and you look into your cup as you drink. Maybe your face warms just a bit. You’re still shy around men, you realize. Especially attractive ones. And Derek Morgan definitely qualifies as attractive. 

“So,” he begins, and to your surprise, crouches down in front of you. “I have to be honest—I came out here in the first place because Reid sent me to check on you. But now I’m wondering what the hell he did.”

Spencer sent him. A considerate action that would theoretically signal his care for your feelings. You take another sip, staring into space and trying to digest this information, but it only jumbles with the rest to confuse you more. 

Of course, you don’t know how to convey this to Derek in a way that’s not overly-familiar for just having met the man, so you go with an old standby. 

“I’m probably just overreacting.”

“Uh-huh. I have sisters. I know what an overreaction looks like and if you were overreacting you wouldn’t be out here hiding. What’d he do?”

You can only keep up the facade of emotional stability for so long. Your chin wobbles in a horribly embarrassing way and you look down again. 

“I’m not sure—I’m not sure if he really did anything or if I’m just being dramatic and I don’t want to make him seem—”

“Why don’t you stop defending him and just tell me what he did?” Derek urges. “Trust me—I love that kid to death. But I also know he can be a dick sometimes. You don’t need to worry about making him look bad in front of me.”

Part of you is glad Spencer has such a good friend on his side. And Derek is right—Spencer is an adult. You don’t need to worry about besmirching his reputation. So you take a shuddering sigh, staring into the red of your drink. 

“He just doesn’t like me as much as I like him. Which isn’t his fault, like I said, but—he’s being such an asshole about it.”

Derek pulls a face, strong eyebrows making an impression as they knit.  

“Did he tell you that?”

“Over the phone,” you nod emphatically. “And just now he gave me this whole fucking speech about how immature and horrible I am for not being 100% happy about it. And maybe he’s partially right, I mean—I know people feel things differently and maybe he just was asking for more time. I worry I fucked it up so bad because I couldn’t handle that—but at the same time he didn’t say he wanted more time. He was really fucking unclear and vague about what he wanted, and he asked me to come to this bar like it was nothing when I’ve been worried he was going to break up with me all week. So yeah, I guess he’s right and I have been a bitch about it because I was upset that he didn’t… like me as much. And I wanted him to feel bad because I was so embarrassed, and I also didn’t want to act like everything was normal if he was just going to dump me, I…” you realize you’ve been hardcore rambling and your face heats. “I don’t know.”

There’s a pause, and you worry you’ve done exactly the thing you didn’t want to, which was overshare to this man who seems like he’s significantly more normal and well-adjusted than you. You drink deeply, swallowing sugar and the rest of your words. 

“That’s… bizarre. I don’t mean to invalidate your feelings, but… that just doesn’t make any sense.”

“Yeah,” you scoff, projecting annoyance so you won’t start crying again. “I was confused too. I thought he really liked me.”

“No, sweetheart, I’m saying—that doesn’t make sense because he does really like you. Really, really likes you, more than I’ve ever seen him like someone before. I mean, last week I finally finished that Tesla biography he’s been on my ass about for months and when I told him, all he wanted to do was talk about your thoughts on it. And then it wasn’t even about the book anymore. I have never, ever seen Reid pass up an opportunity to talk about Nikola Tesla. I’m talking never in my life. He finds a way to make every conversation about you. I can’t even follow the connections sometimes but he always finds a way.”

Your nose wrinkles. 

“Sorry you’ve had to hear so much about me,” you mumble. Though you’re not really sorry. It feels good. A twinge of joy in all the murk. 

“I’m not. Like I said, I’ve known Spencer for a long time and I’ve never seen him this happy. I’m not about to let him fuck it up.”

“If I make him so happy then why did he tell me we don’t feel the same?” you whisper, reaching into the puddle of syrup and ice at the bottom of your now empty cup. 

“Is that exactly what he said?” Derek asks, after a long pause. You bite the maraschino cherry off the stem and nod morosely, grinding a long-gone stranger’s cigarette butt with your boot just to crush something. There’s another beat of silence. “Alright. You know what I think?”

You raise your head to meet his gaze, your own wide-eyed and expectant. 

“I think you two need to have an honest conversation. You’re both confused and hurting—I promise Spencer is feeling it too. If you talk to him he won’t be unkind to you.”

“He already was,” you admit. 

“I apologize if I’m out of line here, but you just told me you’ve been icing him out all week because you want him to feel bad. I’m willing to bet you don’t realize how sharp these claws are.” Derek grabs your hand as he says it and you marvel at how much he is the opposite of you. Everything he does and says seems so natural and reasonable and charming even if it would piss you off from anyone else—and you just met the guy. You can see why Spencer and Penelope speak so highly of him. “I think you’ve probably both had your moments these past few days. But that doesn’t mean neither of you deserve any more chances.”

He puts your hand back on your knee and pats it. 

“Besides, Spencer‘s not good at mean. I bet he’s inside worrying himself sick over whatever dumb shit he said to you. He’s probably hyperventilating as we speak.”

“It was really out of character for him,” you concede. 

“Yeah. He’ll be apologizing for a long while. It will get annoying. But he sure as hell won’t be doing it again, I can tell you that much. If he does, let me know. Emily and I will whoop his ass and call it a fitness evaluation.”

“I think that’ll be unnecessary,” you laugh thickly, pulling your sleeve over your hand and wiping away the few tears that haven’t quite dried. “But thank you.”

“Anytime. Now, it’s my birthday, and as a grown man I should not be getting involved in someone else’s relationship drama. I was supposed to be on the dance floor a while ago.” His tone is so warm and sugary by the time he finishes it could rot his perfect grin. It’s futile to hide the way your mouth twists into a reluctant smile as you look down and fix your hair—praying he can’t tell how fazed you are by his kindness. “You’re going to talk to him, right?”

“I’ll—yeah. Right,” you say quietly. But the sinking feeling in your stomach knows it’s a thing easier said than done. 

“Good,” Derek grunts, taking your empty cup before pushing himself back up to his feet and offering you a hand. “Do you want me to send him out here or do you want to come find him inside?”

You balk.

“Like—right now? I have to talk to him now?”

Before he can give you an answer you think you’d rather not have, the bar door is opening. From your spot you can’t see who it is right away, but Derek turns over his shoulder and does a double take before looking back at you. 

Spencer steps out onto the sidewalk, eyes scanning for until he realizes you’re a few feet shorter than usual. Sitting on a filthy public walkway is probably his worst nightmare, you realize, as you scramble to your feet and dust the crumbs of concrete from your palms against the back of your cold jeans. He begins to say your name, and it sounds like relief and regret, but you stop him. 

“I have to go wash my hands.”

It’s monotonous and mumbled and comes out too quickly but you don’t have time to worry about that as you brush past both of the men on your way back into the bar, making an immediate beeline for the bathroom. 

Your face burns with anxiety as you shut the door behind you, immediately drowning in the yellowish lighting which is so harsh but seems to illuminate almost nothing. Who paints a bathroom red? It’s suffocating. You feel like you’re inside an aorta. 

Water runs cool over your hands as you sniffle, rinsing the bits of dirt from red indents made by pebbles and things, and the soap is too floral and powdery but you wash twice anyway. Maybe you’ll just stay in here and wash your hands forever. 

There’s a light knock on the shiny wooden door and it makes you jump. Your name is muffled from the other side. 

“You in there?” 

Quickly you wipe under your reddened eyes in the mirror, trying to fix the slightly smudged makeup. 

The door opens when you don’t respond, and there’s Spencer, looking weary and tense all at once. Is that your fault?

“Hey,” you sniff, trying to effect casualness, but it comes out too quickly and your posture is too stiff. Under his all-seeing gaze you cross and uncross your arms, look at him and look away. Your hands end up in your pockets. He’d say crossed arms are a sign of self-soothing. 

“Hey.” His is more measured, and of course makes you feel embarrassed in comparison. The door swings shut behind him as he enters the small room and makes it feel that much smaller. “Are you… hiding from me in here?”

Yes. 

The graffitied toilet stalls to your left suddenly look fascinating. 

“Nope. Just washing my hands.”

This is not what Derek told you to do, you scold yourself internally. Stop being so scared. Be honest with him. 

Silence rings. All the brutally honest things you’d like to say choke you until your throat hurts and your eyes get hot. Yet again you feel like a stupid little girl who’s too emotional to communicate. 

You cross your arms. It’s an indulgence you feel you’re owed. 

Spencer says your name again and it’s too much. He never says it this often. When he does it feels good but now it’s too formal, makes you too aware of your own inadequacy, and how he must be seeing you—a wraith of a girl in a dingy bar bathroom with clammy hands and smudged eyeliner, practically shaking with fear under an unforgiving light. Someone who is too scared and much too sensitive. 

Spencer attempts to speak again. 

“What I said before, it was—”

“Can you just take me home?” 

It comes out on one exhalation and seems to stall him with all the effectiveness of a slap to the face. 

You don’t know where it comes from, either. 

Easier said than done, you’d thought a few moments ago. All the bravery Derek had tried to instill in you is gone, swallowed down the drain like soap scum. And now you’re choosing to let your fear win—because at least that’s a known quantity. The fear will never reject you. It will always be waiting with open arms. 

Too scared. 

The end feels imminent. You try to press yourself back together, fingernails biting into palms, trying to make something feel more tangible than the terrible knowingness that you’re careening toward an end which was supposed to be a beginning. It’s stifling and you wonder if Spencer is breathing it too. 

You can’t look at his face, but you watch him pocket his hands in his pants and there is so much impossible space between you in such a tiny room. 

“Yeah. I can.”

Something breaks. It’s small, and without fanfare. But it feels final. 

It’s just a ride home. Just a ride home. 

That’s all you have left, and you don’t know how you know it but you do. 

Something so important is being left in this stupid, dingy bathroom. Something that was at one point beautiful and shiny and so arrogant in its newness that it seemed it would never become ugly. And now you’re abandoning it without dignity on the chipped tile floor and in the cobwebs on the walls. It was bigger than you, it was you—and now it’s going to be nothing. 

A vehicle honks on the street. A boisterous group laugh explodes somewhere beyond the door. Water drips from a faucet. 

“I’ll… I’ll bring my car around.”

“Okay.”

But he just stands there for another moment. Like he can’t get himself to move. 

If only time would freeze before he could walk away. 

But it doesn’t. 

He sucks in a decisive breath. 

“Okay,” he murmurs. 

It’s that fucking phone call all over again. 

Then he spins on his heels and leaves you there.

Your time is up. 

-

part 5.5

[drewmeows]

i am once again thinking about cowboy/lumberjack/farmer/general blue collar worker logan and the sweet young thing that is his boss' daughter...

cw: explicit smut MDNI, unprotected piv, creampie, implied virginity loss, implied age gap, afab reader wears a dress, logan refers to her as 'princess' 'sweetheart', wrote this on my phone and did not edit it amen, if i missed any tags please lmk!

wc: 693 words

"This is so- fuck- so wrong, sweetheart..." His guttural grunt made your eyes flutter shut and a shudder run down your spine and straight to your pussy, "Ruinin' ya like this, what would your daddy think, huh?"

You couldn't reply even if you wanted to, to try to convince Logan this only felt right, and who gives a shit what anyone else thinks. Instead your mind was a puddle at your feet. Or it would be, but he had you hiked onto the wall of the barn, your legs wrapped around his waist.

Your sundress was pushed up and over your tits so his hands could roughly grope them when he had the chance.

You simply rested your sweaty forehead on his shoulder, clutching his arms tightly as he rutted up into you. "Lo- Logan!" A squeal wrought from your chest as he shifted slightly, pulling you down further on his cock as one of his hands abandoned your tit to rub tight circles on your swollen clit.

Just as you went to beg for more he hit the gummy spot inside you that had your vision spanned with black dots. Logan grinned at you, feeling how awfully close to the edge he'd brought you.

"Better princess? Tha' the spot that's gonna make my sweet girl come?" You could only marvel at how not out of breath he sounded, almost unaffected by your damn near literal roll in the hay that unless you didn't have his cock throbbing inside of you and feel how taut his muscles were, you'd think this was just another day for him.

You nodded and pulled your head back, a whine caught in your throat at the debauched look of his hair tousled and flannel pushed down his shoulders. You dipped in for a kiss and Logan pulled back, a mischievous look on his face, "What's that, sweetheart? Gotta use your- ngh- words."

"Fuck! Want a kiss, please, please-" You continue to beg, wanton moans and cries slipping from your lips before he finally captures your mouth with his.

It's wet and barely louder than the slick sounds of your cunt as he fucks up into you at that same breakneck speed. Before Logan even goes to break the kiss, your high hits.

A keening noise rises high in your throat, met by Logan's grunt as you gush around him. He reared back, desperate to see your orgasm contort your face with pleasure.

All through it, he continues to rut into you, keeping that oh so steady pace that had you whimpering with overstimulation. Your nails dug deep enough into his biceps to draw blood, the feeling causing his eyes to roll slightly.

"Keep doin' that n squeezing me like that, and I'm gonna cum, princess," He spoke it as if it was a threat but all you heard was salvation. You nodded and looked him right in the eyes.

With a hand moving up to grip the back of his head of hair, "Wan' you to fill me up, please, Lo? Please- I need it-" A soft gasp escaping your lips once more as tears filled your eyes, pain and pleasure mixing in all the overwhelming new feelings.

It seemed that was all the permission he needed, a hoarse groan your only warning before he buried himself deep and came inside your cunt, warming you from the inside out as heat burns your cheeks.

Logan pants against your shoulder, small and inconsequential murmurs of praise falling from his mouth as you struggle to gain the ability to breathe much less speak again.

Hours later when you've come back around to your senses while picking a splinter of wood from the barn out of your back, you'll look back on this moment and wonder why it took you so damn long to finally make a move on your father's worker.

Because as you slip down from his waist and let your dress fall down to your knees- which are weak as jelly, wavering underneath you- and Logan's arm slides around your waist with a reserved smile, propping you up against him, you swear you can feel yourself falling anyways.

[hotnbloodied]

Hiyaaaa can I request a stalker yan x enabling gn reader🪼could it be smut if possible

I went a little haywire with this one, I hope it meets your expectations dear~

(PLEASE BE EXTRA CAUTIOUS OF TAGS FOR THIS ONE!!!)

I'm still not too sure about how to feel about writing smut (I'm actually not a big fan of it) but as long as everyone enjoys it thank you ^^

-˚ʚ♡ɞ˚HB˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Stalker!Yan X Pushover!Reader (!!SMUT!!)

!Warning! This post contains yandere themes and topics that may be uncomfortable to people who are sensitive to the topic, read at your own discretion. I do not support or encourage these destructive behaviors in real life.

CW: not proof read, yous/yours used, gn reader, SEX, sloppy lewd writing, implied stalking, saliva, yandere behaviors, delusional thoughts, dub-con, obsessive behavior (LMK if I'm missing anything.)

!!READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION!! MINORS DNI!!

(PLEASE BE EXTRA CAUTIOUS OF TAGS FOR THIS ONE!!!)

It all started with a simple act of helping him pick up the paperwork that you accidentally knocked out of his hands. No one had helped him before, much less make conversation with him due to how he looks and holds himself. Perpetual hunch, unkempt hair, deep dark eye bags and a slight stutter. This guy was a mess, but the company kept him because his work ethic is near perfection. Back to the papers you were helping him pick up, you offered to carry half with him to where he needed to go and he offered to treat you to lunch, “i-it’s the least I can do for helping me,” he reasons. You couldn’t turn down, “well, if you’re sure, I am getting pretty hungry since it’s lunch time already,” you reason.

Though, you didn’t expect him to get so chatty during lunch. It felt like he was asking your ear off with questions. “How’s work been for you?” “How is your family?” “Do you have any hobbies?” “Favorite shows? Movies?” Admittedly, you couldn’t wait for lunch to be over but even when you wanted to say goodbye, to get back to work, he asks for your phone number. Wanting to just go already you hurriedly gave it to him.

Little did you know that he would be texting you everyday, perhaps even every hour. Not wanting to be rude you responded when you could. Soon you were seeing him outside of work, not willingly but whenever you would be trying to run errands or even just out and about. Grocery shopping? He suddenly appeared and offered to push your cart and even load your bags into your car. At the mall? He just so happened to be needing to get a birthday gift for a family member so why don’t he shop around with you, even though when you were leaving he walked you to your car with his hands empty. Just taking a walk in the park? What a coincidence, he loves this park! A walk is better with someone else right? You didn’t bring up how weirdly coincidental it was that he happened to be wherever you were, you didn’t want to deal with confrontation. Which led you to the state of you and his relationship as it is these days.

He started hanging out with you in your apartment, he had one day asked if he could come over to your place to hang out for the weekend. “We could hang out and watch a movie, I’ll even make dinner for us. Unless you want to come over to my place?” You weakly try to give the excuse that your apartment is a mess but he even offers to clean it and you didn’t really want to go over to his place so you agreed to hang out with him at yours.

True to his word, he cleans your apartment but it wasn’t even that dirty in the first place since it was just an excuse. He goes on to make dinner, it was exactly to your taste like he knew and even cleans up afterward. When it came to the movie it was whatever looked good on the streaming service, you’ve been wanting to watch a certain movie that was recently released so he agreed to it too. Not too long into the movie you notice him moving closer to you, your heart rate raises with each proceeding inch until finally your shoulders are touching. Even if you wanted to scoot away, you were already on the edge of your couch. In a fluid motion he rests his arm on your shoulders causing you to look at him. He looks you in the eyes and leans in for a kiss. You instinctively used your hands to stop him from leaning closer and he looked at you with wide eyes.

“Do you not want this?” He asks with a bit of hurt in his voice. Flustered, you replied, “I just think it’s too soon for this.” He smiles and takes your hands in his, “it’s okay, we’re just having a little fun after all. No strings attached.” Something about the last statement didn’t feel right but you don’t say anything so he takes it as you agreeing with him and leans in for a kiss again. You close your eyes as your lips connect and you can feel him sigh as he continuously pecks kisses on your lips. Soon after you feel something wet probing at your lips and it surprises you enough to open them. His tongue invades your mouth and you feel his grasp on your body tighten as he explores your mouth with his tongue.

Breaking from the kiss only for air, it doesn’t stop him from tasting you like he was a thirsty man and you were an oasis in the desert. His tongue rolls over your cheeks and jawline working down to your neck leaving you covered in saliva. He sucks and licks the sensitive skin of your jugular making heat form in your lower regions. He nudges to take off your top and you allow him a full view of your chest. He wastes no time and continues to suck on your collarbone area, the whole thing feels weird and warm and slimy but you didn’t want to stop him since you believe it was too late for that. Suddenly you feel your nipples get pinched and you jerk backwards. “You’re so cute, and so sensitive just for me,” he coos. He continues to suck and play with your nipples until your brain seems to go fuzzy from the pleasure and all that’s escaping your lips are sounds of moans, whines and whimpers. He chuckles, “you’ve been grinding against me for a while, do you want it?” Did you? You didn’t even notice until he said so. “Let’s go ahead and get these off okay?” He nudges at your pants now and he watches as you slowly take them off.

He gulps at your completely nude form now, “you’re everything I dreamed off and more.” You flushed at his words. Before you could say anything he went down on you causing you to yelp. He licked and sucked and slurped like his life depended on it. He almost got you to cum but stopped much to your dismay. “No need to pout darling, we’ll be coming undone together.” It was his turn to undress, his member stood proudly over your entrance. Something in you knew deep down that if you let him go the whole way that there would be no turning back even if he said no strings attached, but another part of you just doesn’t care. He turns you around and slowly enters you from behind and you gasp as you grip your sofa cushions from the intrusion. It doesn’t take long for the speed to pick up and he’s pounding you into your sofa making an absolute mess of you. Soon the both of you climax and he’s covering your back with his seed.

You’re too exhausted to move but that’s okay! He already knows where you keep your towels so he goes and gets some to clean you up. After doing so, he guides your arm over his shoulder and leads you to your bedroom. You fall asleep, too tired to stay awake. “You’re more ethereal in person when you’re sleeping than a screen could ever capture,” he kisses your forehead before drifting off to sleep himself, with you finally in his grasp.

Part 2

[jjoongstar]

𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆, 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒔

pairing: student!wooyoung x student!reader (college au)

genre: smut, humor, angst, pwp, fwb

rating: nsfw

warnings: protective sex, humping, grinding, fingering, blowjob, cunninglingus, spiting, petnames (lmk if i missed any!)

wc: 4.1k

synopsis: started off being fuck buddies with wooyoung just because. then you started to develop feelings when you shouldn't have so it ended tragically since it was one sided and after a huge mistake wooyoung made.

a/n: i'm not a great writer but i had to get this out of my head, its annoying me by day, sorry if its not that good. feedbacks are very much appreciated! (tags are at the end)

"did you mean it, wooyoung?"

"mean what?"

"what you said earlier,"

"y/n, i said a lot of things when i fuck you. which one?"

"your feelings for me woo..."

"my feelings for you? i never said that,"

"then why did you said you love me?"

"i did? sorry, it kinda slipped off my tongue. so, no, i don't have feelings for you,"

seeing your silent state.

"wait, do you-"

"not me either, don't worry." you give him a bitter smile, pick up your clothes and left his dorm room.

that was it. it always has been that way. you and wooyoung were nothing more than just friends who enjoys fucking each other for fun. with no actual feelings attached. that's what he had in mind, but not you.

wooyoung was a friend of friend. you started to make conversations when the three of you hung out at a college frat party. somehow you and wooyoung exchanged contacts after you both were laughing so much over silly jokes you two made. he likes talking to you very much since you enjoyed joking around with his stupid jokes.

the second time you met was at the lecture hall when you two, coincidentally, have the same class to attend. you and your seatmate were stifling giggles bout making dirty jokes. though you thought no one heard your whispers, wooyoung, who sat behind you, heard most of it and he was amused.

"yea i think mr. song is packing too." you've never turned around so quickly before up till that moment. wooyoung was leaning down a bit to your seat and he has a smirk on his face.

you were a bit surprised of his presence, but not his words. knowing him before, you weren't that shocked with his jokes. you give him a sly smile and you focus back on the ongoing lecture.

the next hangout was at another house party. celebrating some jock's birthday, well not that you cared whoever he was, as long as there's free drinks. wooyoung sat beside you, close but not enough to touch each other. he rests his elbow on the headrest of the couch while the other hand has a cup of liquor. you on the other hand, also have the same cup as the person beside you but with a different type of alcohol and you put your feet up on the coffee table in front. you two enjoy sitting down and talk to each other through the loud music rather than dancing on the sticky dirty floors.

"why don't you have a partner y/n?"

"i dislike sloppy small dicks."

"pfftt are you for real?!" wooyoung who almost choked on his drink, sat up straight to face you better. you giggled out at his reaction. dirty jokes and vulgar words are just and every day thing between you two, and it always made you two laugh, never ever felt offended or uncomfortable.

"yea, base on past relationships that is. but that's not the actual reason why i chose to be single right now,"

"then what is? you dislike monster cocks too?"

"NO NOT THAT!"

"haha then what?"

"commitment issues."

wooyoung only replied with a silent hum.

"very understandable tho, cause me too. like I'm down to fuck someone but i don't want to have any strings attached after," he broke the silence first while twirling around his empty cup in his hands.

"like holding hands in public, kissing at the hallways, go on silly dates, the need to remember every stupid unnecessary dates, overly saying 'i love you', 'i love you too' then-"

"YEAA THAT I GET IT! you get it, ew please stop, it's disgusting," he smacks your shoulder telling you to stop with the excessive description of being in a 'relationship'. after your laughter subsided, it went back to another silent moment. until he spoke up first, again.

"you wanna fuck?" you looked straight into his eyes. there was no hint of a joke in it.

"like right now?" he quickly nod at you and you didn't bother thinking twice. there's no reason for you to do that either way.

"yea sure, why not." you added and he took the cup away from your hands and threw it away somewhere. whoever person got splashed with the drink, not that he cares, not his problem.

wooyoung grabbed your wrist and dragged you upstairs. his grip was firm but not enough to hurt you, just to not let you get lost in the sea of drunk humans. he twist on every doorknobs to find an empty room. once he found it he pulled you inside, lets you go and locks the door.

"woah…whoever this room belongs too, i like his bed, its so soft," wooyoung turned around and saw you laying down on your back at the queen size bed in the room.

"distracted already? i didn't bring you here to snooze y'know…" he stood by the door with his hands on his waist.

"i know, come here already if you want to do it so bad," you spread out your legs a bit for him when you saw the bulge in his pants.

the man quickly made his way and tops over you. he place his hand on the underside of your jaw, tilting your head to the side as he dives his face in and starts to kiss your neck. it started off slow, but after he inhaled your scent more, he begins to lick and suck your skin from under your ear to you collarbones.

his hands fiddles the hem of your shirt and you help him fully took it off by lifting your body up a bit. he gasped closing his mouth with one hand. you wondered why he stopped. till you follow his gaze on your covered breast.

"wahh y/n, i never imagined your boobs with such a pretty bra…" he fiddles with the silver heart charm in the middle of your bra.

"look who's more distracted now," you chuckled and pulled him closer by tugging his shirt.

he sat up and took his shirt off. you were ogling at his well built body. he chuckles proudly, knowing he hit the gym well to make you drool over him like this.

he leans back in and continue his wet kisses all over you exposed chest. his hands wanders all over your upper body and found its way to your back to unclip your bra. you sigh in relief after feeling the little freedom. wooyoung tossed it across the room somewhere as he was still busy feeling your body. his lips went to swirl around your tits while his hand plays with the other one, not wanting it to feel left out.

the slight feeling made your body shudder and wetness started to pool in your undies. the more you hear sucking noises from him, you feel more hornier. you pull his hips closer to yours and grinds your needy sex to his groin.

he detached his mouth from your wet tits as he moans and grinds along with you. you started to feel the buildup in your stomach and you grip his shoulder. you stutter out his name as he continues to dry hump your both clothed girth. he pulls away after your your legs twitched around him. you saw a wet patch on his bulge. wonder if it was from you or his.

he walks over to all the tables, going through every drawers till he found a pack of condom. he sets it aside while he unbuckles his pants and you took off the last piece of clothing on your body. he slips his finger to the waistband of his boxers but he didn't pulled it down just yet.

"though mine isn't a sloppy small dick or a huge monstrous size one, are you ok with that?" you blinked a few times at the man standing by the side of the bed with nothing but his boxers while you're there, fully naked on the bed.

"hahahah woo please…i really don't care, as long as it can fit my mouth," he took your amusement as a sign to continue and he pulls down his boxers and left his hard member spring up till the tip reach under his belly button.

he walks over to you as you position yourself and rubs his member a bit before putting it inside your mouth. you took it out and pumps it, twisting your hands all over it, feeling it getting harder by every movement. you spit on the tip and squeeze it with your thumb making the the man in front of you whines out your name.

you take that as a sign to start suck him off. he sighs in pleasure upon feeling the warmth of your mouth. you lick and suck in every angle you could. he grips your shoulder and pushes you off after you felt a hint of saltiness from him.

"i don't wanna cum yet," he swipes away the drool on your chin while your eyes never left his leaking member.

he drags you and lets you lay down on your back while he makes his place in between your legs. he licks a stripe of your wet hole before he went to suck on the bundle of nerve. his way of sucking and twisting his tongue on your clit made you feel your head in a daze. never before has someone eat you out at this speed.

he plunges two of his fingers in you hole making you squirm. he roams it around till he found the exact soft spot that made you gasp and arch your back. you kept on moaning when he pumps his fingers and scissors you open. you beg for his dick as your needy cunt can't take it anymore, you need him to fill you up.

"patience baby, i still need to stretch you up at least." he pulls his mouth away and sat on his heels while he slips on the rubber to his thick dick. why does it look a bit bigger than before? he angles his tip to your hole and moves along your folds.

"you sure bout this?" you nodded quickly at him.

"use your words babe," he slaps the tip at your sensitive clit making your thighs twitch.

"yes, I'm sure. please put it in already woo,"

"safe word?"

"shark." your eyes stumbled upon a little shark plushie on the desk in the room. wooyoung followed your gaze to the toy and he looks back at you.

"shark it is." he plunges his dick right in you. the stretch stings a bit but it felt good. so good it already made you squirm and begs him to move.

he started at a slow pace until he found the right angle that made you moan louder. he rams into you harder and faster. every thrust made you lose your breath. his grip on your hips might leave bruises on the next day.

he leans his body down and suck down the skin of your chest, leaving red spots. you felt the same feeling in your stomach and you grip onto his arms. he wraps his hand around your neck just enough to make you roll your eyes back at the high feeling.

you wrap you legs around his waist, pulling him closer as you felt the waves crash in.

"w-wooyoung," was all you could mutter as your head felt in a haze.

"shh i know," he slows down his pace and presses his pelvis down on your clit, letting you ride out your high.

after you let him go, he topples down on you. few minutes went by as you both tried to calm down. his hand brushes away the hair that stuck to your face so he could see your fucked out expression better.

"you good?" he propped up on his elbow beside you.

"yea so good i- WAIT! you didn't come yet!"

"says who," wooyoung sat up and pulled out slowly from you. he slips off the used condom and showed the white liquid in it.

the smirk on his face made you roll your eyes and huff out annoyingly. you're worried for nothing. he grabbed some tissues and helps wipe you off. he went to grab your clothes and tossed them over to you then he dresses himself back.

"no strings attached?"

"no strings attached."

you grab his hand that he held up to you and helps you get off the bed. he gives you a firm hug as to seal the contract you both made.

there you have it. that's how this friends with benefits relationship started with wooyoung. nothing weird happened after. everything was just normal. friends in public, fuck buddies in private.

he would call you up whenever he needed a release and you're always down for it. so does you. whenever you feel horny, he'll be quick to help you with it and you both go on with your days like nothing ever happened under the sheets.

wooyoung waved at you when you passed by the hallway and you waved him back with a friendly smile. afterwards, he went back to chat with his friends while you also went your way to your next class. just a simple wave with no conversations like as if he didn't rail you so hard last night till your head almost hit the wall.

somedays, you didn't even think bout him at all and so did he. not seeing each other for weeks was also fine. hanging out as friends again, going to parties, bars, clubbing. those days doesn't necessarily need for you two to fuck. just as friends like before hanging out together with your circle of friends.

being fuck buddies with wooyoung was fun. when there's no strings attached, you could tease and play with what's happening to him currently. that is when he told you someone had a crush on him and just confessed.

knowing him, he's obviously not into relationship and doesn't even like the girl back. so when you guys fuck, you bring the girl up.

"ahh woo, please, i have a crush on you," you moan in a mocking manner as you ride his dick.

"i don't like you. i don't even know who you are," he bucks his hips upwards in between.

"but you're so handsome and pretty, and soooo extremely hot," you tease him more and grabs a fistful of his hair and yanks his head back. he lets out a long moan as he really loves it whenever you go rough on him too.

"i…nghh wanna be your girlfriend!"

"EWW NO!" he lifts you by the waist and slams you on your back.

his thrusts became faster and he grunts every time you squeeze his dick. you love teasing him and it riles him up to fuck you even harder. in the end, you both enjoyed it.

on the next day, you saw wooyoung talking with the girl with a smirk on his face. the girl doesn't have a chance. poor girl, he's just toying with her feelings.

another thing you love being fuck buddies with him is the roleplay. he lets you roleplay into any of your fantasies. one of them is your adoration to your smoking hot professor.

"he's so deliciously hot woo, you don't understand," you rant out to the man as he was cooking dinner and you sat by the kitchen bar.

"then go eat him out, if you want to taste him that bad,"

"if i could, i would. heard rumours he's gay,"

"he is?" wooyoung turned around to face you after turning off the stove.

"yea, people always saw him hanging around with mr. jeon, and its ALWAYS mr. jeon. never have anyone seen him with a woman." the man with an apron burst out laughing while smacking the counter top, its a laughing habit of his, as long as he doesn't smack you, its fine.

"well none for you, so there's a chance for me then,"

"wooyoung, you're not helping!" you cross your arms over your chest and sigh in frustration. he walks over to you and your gaze never left his.

"well, i can help you in another way," he graze his fingertips along your exposed thighs and slips under your short.

he found your clit and presses it down making you gasp and grip his wrist. he moves his fingers in a slow circular motion and you spread your legs wider.

"p-please…" you beg in a low whisper and he quickly retracts his hand and place them on your hips.

he lifts you up and sits you down on top of the kitchen bar. he made sure the surface was clear before pushing you down by your shoulders. he takes off your short along with your panties and he tossed them away.

he spreads your legs wider and grips tightly the inside of your thighs as he admires the view of your clenching cunt, begging for attention.

"you really like your professor that much huh?" he teases and feel more aroused thinking bout the man of your dreams.

he leans down and nudge his nose to your clit while his tongue busies itself at your hole. he stuck his tongue in and slurps every drop of your juice. his tongue felt so soft and velvety. you love it. but you need more. you want his fingers in you.

"woo please-"

"it's mr. song to you." he lifts his head up and gives you a sharp glare before stuffing your mouth with his fingers.

the feeling of imagining its your professor that you have a crush on, that's pleasing you right now. a whimper came from you as you suck and cover wooyoung's thick fingers with your saliva before he takes it out of your mouth.

"be a good girl for me," the man in between your legs slides his fingers along your folds making you shudder.

he bent over to the side and picks up a pack of condom from the drawer and slips in on. without another word, he pushes his protected dick in and bottoms out.

you cried out at the stretch feeling and your hands tries to grip down on anything you can reach. noticing your helpless reaction, he lends out his hand and you intertwine your fingers with his.

he starts to move when you squeeze his hand. his other hand made its place on your thigh and he pulls you closer while he thrust into you, wanting to feel you deeper. he felt your pussy clenching, he knows that you're close to your orgasm so he thrust in harder and deeper. letting his tip touch your soft spot.

"yea… mr. song, sir ahh…please…" you don't know what you're begging for, but for all you know, you want it. you need it.

after a final thrust you came creaming down all over his hard dick. you legs twitched over the sensitivity of your sex.

"such a good girl," wooyoung praises you as he caresses your thighs, calming you down.

it was wooyoung that's in between your legs and has his dick still stuffed in you, but your mind is filled with another man, your professor, mr. song mingi.

though college isn't just about going to classes, then partying, then the hookups. there's the extra other activities that does require a friend or two, but its definitely not the same friend. that was when you realised that you and wooyoung were really just friends.

thought you have upgraded to best friends by now, but your dreams faded away when you sat down one day and reflected back where you stood. you wanted to spend your college years with him. not just fucking, but other curricular activities. you would want to choose him first in any events but its not the same situation to him. though you would put him first, but he would not put you as his first option.

summer camp. he went with san while you had to go with your other friends.

sports day. he had his training with san.

fundraising events. he volunteered with san.

literature competition. he had paired up with san.

community service. again, with san.

talent show. san.

explore race. san.

career fair. san

san san san san san san san san san san san.

its always him but never you. for once you felt like a loner. you somewhat felt the urge to need him. you yearn for him. no just in a way he stuffs his dick in you. but in ways you want him to embrace you. for once, more than a friend.

that's how you ended up at his dorm in the middle of the night when the accident happened.

he was gripping on to your hips, spanking your ass to leave his handprints. your arms were too weak to handle the overwhelming feeling of his dick in your wet hole, you shove your head down on wooyoung's mattress and your hands kept on clawing at his sheets.

he felt his high coming and he leans down, pressing his bare chest to you back. burying his face in your neck. his thrusts getting sloppier.

"f-fuck y/n, you pussy always feels so good. i really love it, so so much, i love you."

hearing the last words your body jolted and you squeezed his dick way tighter than before. he groans out loud as his cum spurts out into the condom. he puts you down gently as he pulls out, hissing slightly as his member is still a bit sensitive.

he went to grab some towels and a drink while you laid there still in utter shock of his words. did you misheard him? no, it can't be. even when you try to deny what you heard, your heart felt the urge to believe it was true.

"did you mean it, wooyoung?" you finally speak up while he wipes down your legs.

"mean what?"

"what you said earlier,"

"y/n, i said a lot of things when i fuck you. which one?"

"your feelings for me woo..."

"my feelings for you? i never said that," your breathe hitched and your heart sink at the word never. silence fills the air in a few seconds before you speak up again.

"then why did you said you love me?"

"i did? sorry, it kinda slipped off my tongue. so, no, i don't have feelings for you,"

seeing your silent state.

"wait, do you-"

"not me either, don't worry." you give him a bitter smile and get off his bed after he puts your panties on.

you pick up your clothes and left his dorm room while wearing them one by one. fuck who cares if someone sees your tits, you can't stand being in the same space with wooyoung. the tears that welled up in your eyes might actually break.

you found yourself sitting on a bench by the pond with nothing but a heavy heart. he's not wrong. why would he even have feelings for you. you're just friends. friends who fulfills their lustful desires. there's no need for him to look out for you. he shouldn't hang out with you all the time, like he has other friends too. you can't control him or keep him to yourself. he's not your boyfriend.

"y/n?" the voice of the person you least wanted to see. he puts a jacket over your shoulders and sat beside you.

"what do you want," you said nonchalantly, trying to hold back your tears and your gaze still looking down on your hands above your lap.

"well i couldn't just let you leave without sending you off properly. its also in the middle of the night, its cold and-"

"stop it wooyoung," you push him away from you. he was taken aback by your behavior but it didn't stop him. he kept on asking the obvious.

"what's wrong? did something happen? was is something that i said?"

silence fills in the air as you remembered back what he said. i love you. he said that. that was the problem. he shouldn't say that if its not real. then again, nothing was ever real whenever you guys fuck.

"I'm really sorry i said those words. i really do love you but as a friend. not as lovers. if i were, i would've kiss you already."

he was right. his shot up truth hurts even more than the silence. never once you both kiss each other on the lips. that was because you're not lovers. you've made the promise to not have any feelings at all, yet here you are. crying over a stupid relationship with your friend.

"let's end this, I'm tired." you shot up from your seat and walks towards your place. you kept shoving wooyoung off whenever he tugs at your arm. you ignored all of his yelling and screaming of your name like a child. you let the tears in your eyes stream down your face.

"you were my friend y/n!!" he yelled out from behind you.

friend. always a friend. nothing more, nothing less.

dividers

taglist: @engentiny

send an ask to be on the taglist :)

networks: @othersideoutlawsnetwork @illusionnet

[yuyu1024]

6yrs

Pairings: Yunho × y/n

Genre/tags: lovers to strangers

Warning: pet names, cursing, cheating

~~~ [lmk if i miss anything]

Words: 1.3k

Disclaimers:

- this story is just made up

- english is not my first language, please be nice 😊

A/N: i am in my down moments lately... and i want to write something a bit sad randomly

Hope you all have a wonderful day. 🖤

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

6yrs. You and Yunho have been together for that long already. From college to now as adults. He is your first in everything. He is your guy, your comfort and your safezone. He is the man you always have dreamed of.

He is perfect and He's yours.

However, these past few months have been very... off for you. Well, both of you. And you know why.

A few months ago, after you guys celebrated your 6th year anniversary together, Yunho got a call from his supervisor that he is a candidate for a promotion. That his boss is rooting for him and for sure know that after a few more deliberation with the rest of the team, you will get it.

Both of you were so ecstatic. You even jumped like a kid on a trampoline after hearing his news. Coz you know how hard working and passionate your man is with his job. You know he deserves it.

It will have its pros and cons being promoted especially when it comes to time with you or whatever. But it does not matter coz you know it is his for him and it will make him happy career wise. And you know Yunho will do a good job balancing his life and work.

But then just more than a month after he got the position, it suddenly went south.

Yunho have been going home late two to three times a week. Which is not bad coz its not everyday and too extreme. However, whenever he goes home now you feel the distance building between you two. It felt like he has been coming home to you and expecting to just pick his coat and bag on the floor, make sure he eats and then let him rest.

He have gotten so cold and quiet.

You tried talking to him during his off days. Wanting to suggest to go on a date or hang out somewhere, have fun, play games, watch a movie or something. But he either rejects you because he is tired or if he agrees, it feels so forced.

What happened? You were so lost. Unsure what to do or say. But being the girlfriend, you always made sure he feels loved and taken care off. Because you also thought that he might be just having this transition in his life because of a new environment at work.

You believed that this shall pass.

But as months go by... it gotten worse.

It came to a point that you two feels like two strangera living together. That the 6yrs of being boyfriend-girlfriend was suddenly felt like nothing.

***

"You think.... it's better... that I move out?" You blurt while starting at your plate during breakfast.

Yunho pauses and slowly raise his gaze to you. "What?" He is stunned by your sudden question.

Still looking at your plate whilst poking your food you add, "Because... I feel like... I'm not needed here anymore..." then you eyes lifts up to look at him. "Nor wanted by you anymore..."

He probably stopped breathing for a second but after processing what you said, "Y/N..."

You snort an irritated laugh. "Shocker. You still know my name..." you mumble.

"I'm sorry...." he answers lowering his head. "I'm caught up so much work that I..."

"Just work?" You ask, going back to staring while poking your food.

His head snaps back up, brows rippled. "What do you mean by that?"

"I'm not dumb." You softly say before letting go of the fork then proceed to putting your legs up your chair and  then hugging your knees. "I know... I know everything...." your voice breaks at the end.

An important detail why something is off between the two of you this past few months is that, Yunho, cheating. A woman from his work. His teammate.

You caught him one time, as you were coming home late after having a drink or two with your friends, when you saw him walking with the woman. They are not drunk. They are casually walking together, laughing and acting like they are on a date.

At first you told yourself that they are just friends. That maybe Yunho is just being respectful to the elder girl, who is obviously into him, that he cannot just publicly embarass her to tell her to move away. But then, as you follow them even more just around corner of the next building, you see them making out.

It's not just her making moves to him. Yunho was actually kissing her back. He was kissing her the way he kisses you. 💔

"You know what hurts too...?" You begin , "is that I was standing there.... obviously and in plain sight... but you weren't able to see me... or notice that someone is watching..." you wipe the first tear that roll down on your cheek. "You were to focus on her... so... taken by her..."

"Y/N..." tears starts to build up in his eyes. "I'm sorry..."

"No your not." You say, trying to hold on a bit more to not actually break apart in front of him. "Coz if you really loved me, you would not...you would not ever...."

You fail. You can't stop yourself from crying now. You cover your face as you sob and loudly whine as you express all the pain you have been keeping in for the past months.

It hurts. So painful. And yet the man in front of you can't and won't even defend himself or try to talk.

It felt like he just confessed through his silence that he did and is cheating. And probably will not stop seeing her.

"Why?" You ask. "Am I not enough? Not successful enough...? Ugly?" You take a deep breath in, "Do I not satisfy you in bed anymore? What... w-hat did I do? What made you do it? Why? Why now?"

He becomes silent.

"For fuck sakes, Yunho! Six years! We've beem together for six years and this is what I get? I know I'm not perfect but... God!" You cry it out more, facing him away. You are crying so much that you can barely breathe now and you eyes are blood shot red.

"Y/N..." he stands up and tries to reach out to help you to breathe but you move away quickly.

You stand up and jerk away from him.

"Please..."

"Please what?" You look at him, with sad yet fiercing eyes. "Stay? Why? So you can have someone to act like your 'girlfriend' when your other woman is not around to please you?"

"I... I love you." He mumbles, "please..."

"You don't." You wipe the rest of the tears off your cheek. "You stopped loving me the second you cheated. You are just keeping me around because you are used to having me around. You are just saying you love me because you need me."

"I'm sorry...." Yunho goes down to his knees and begs. "Please don't go.... I... No... I made a mistake... I... she helped me get through all the troubles at work and... it just..."

"You confided with her and not with me? As your girlfriend?"

"I know it's wrong... but... I didn't want to burden you with my own problems..."

"And look what it caused."

"Please...." Yunho crawls closer to you and hugs you by the waist. "I'm sorry... I will stop... I already told her I can't do it... I just... had to tell her to..."

"Yeah... I think it's better if I move out..." you peel him off you. "I don't think I can do it any longer..."

He is crying, looking at you. "Babe, please."

"I'm sorry." You say as you then pull out the promise ring he gave you from your first anniversary.

[reidbae]

DAY 22: Blissful — voice kink w/dom!aaron hotchner

KINKTOBER 2023: masterlist

summary: Your husband calls you on the way home from work, and is annoyedly cut off in traffic, causing him to say a word or two about it. But when you find yourself aroused by his voice alone, he's eager to take care of you the second he walks through the door.

pairing: dom!husband!aaron hotchner x sub!fem!wife!reader

warnings/mentions: use of pet names (baby, doll, honey, princess, sweet girl), huge sir kink, cussing obv, reader is held down, teasing, fingering, praise, not rlly degradation but def in that area, lmk if i missed something!

wc: 1.5k

a/n: i'm so happy i was finally able to write for hotch <3 this fic does him literally no justice at all but i will make a better one in the future :,)

tags: @nalycandy @prettyboydrspencerreid @mega-kittyglitter-1 @mrs-ssa-hotch

"Hello?" you said, your phone held to your ear as you sat in your living room.

You had been home by yourself all day while your husband was at work. He had been working more hours than usual these days, and always called you when he was on his way home, knowing that you missed him.

"Hi, honey. I didn't wake you, did I?" Aaron's deep voice rang out from the other end of the line. A smile played across your lips as you heard your husband's voice for the first time in too long, and you giggled.

"No. I've been up. I can't sleep when you're not here," you said with a laugh, feeling your face flush with heat. Aaron chuckled, too. You could hear the sound of him driving in the background as he spoke to you.

"I know, baby. I'm sorry. I should be home in less than ten," said Aaron in response. "Did you eat? Shower?"

You rolled your eyes playfully, smiling. Aaron always knew just how to take care of you and make sure you were okay, even if he couldn't be there in person to do it. "Yes, and yes, sir," you joked.

Aaron chuckled again. "That's good, baby. And you made sure to rest today?" he said.

Again, you rolled your eyes, and nodded, like he could see you. "Yes, Aaron."

"Okay, just making sure. I—" Aaron began. He soon cut himself off, a curse word falling from his lips in lieu. "Asshole."

Your eyes perked and you raised an eyebrow, wondering why he had said that. Who was he talking to?

And why did it give you butterflies?

"Aaron? A- Aaron, what happened?" you asked bewilderedly, jumping up a little in your seat.

"Sorry, honey, I'm sorry. Some guy just, fuck," he said in a deep voice. "Some guy just cut me off. I'm lucky he didn't hit me," Aaron huffed annoyedly. It was like you could see him rolling his eyes.

"Oh, God, a- are you okay?" you asked. You were sure that your tone was giving what you were thinking away, because it wasn't really one of concern: It was one of shyness, like you had other things on your mind.

That's because you did.

"Yeah, honey, don't worry. I'm fine. Sorry if I scared you," Aaron said in a caring voice. "Driving through D.C. is hell at any hour, for fuck's sake," he cursed again. "It's a wonder anyone can get anywhere."

"Uh, yeah- Mmhm, I agree," you responded inattentively, feeling yourself zone out as your husband spoke to you.

Aaron didn't seem to notice, however, and kept talking to you in that deep voice of his, rambling on about his day. He talked more than you did, which wasn't usually the case, but only because you were so mesmerized by the deep, authoritative way about his voice that you didn't dare to interrupt it.

After a while, though, however, Aaron began to pick up on your silence, and spoke up. "You okay, honey? You're not talking much."

You snapped back into reality, your eyes going a little wide. "Hm- What? Oh, yeah. I'm fine. Just fine," you did your best to lie, sighing.

"That didn't sound very convincing. Come on, princess, what's wrong? You can tell me," said Aaron reassuringly.

It wasn't a question of what was wrong. It was one of what was right.

"Nothing's wrong, Aaron," you giggled in response, blushing.

"Oh, yeah, princess?" Aaron chuckled through the phone. "Are you lying to me?"

You began to run your fingers through your hair, playing with it as you talked to him. "No..." you giggled. His voice was really beginning to get to you now, and you rubbed your thighs together in response to it.

"Well—Maybe there is something."

"Now we're getting somewhere. Are you going to tell me what the matter is, then, baby?" said Aaron, laughing.

"Nothing's the matter...It's just...Well...I just like your voice."

Aaron paused for only a few seconds to process what you'd said. Then, he began to laugh. "My voice, doll? Did I hear that right?" he asked.

You covered your face shyly. "Y- Yes. I don't know. But it's making me feel all hot inside," you admitted to him.

Aaron didn't need to understand precisely what you meant, as long as he knew that it was getting you going. "I'm happy to hear that, honey," he said to you, his voice going lower. "I'll take care of you when I'm home, then, doll. I want you there as soon as I walk through the door. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir, I understand," you said with an affirmative nod, eager to do whatever Aaron asked of you.

"Attagirl."

—

As soon as Aaron had walked through the door, you were running to his arms, just like he'd asked you to. He scooped you up effortlessly, using one hand to hold your leg, and the other to support your bottom. You reveled in the feeling of your legs wrapped around his torso.

Aaron's lips found yours in seconds, tongue dancing with yours in a sea of pent up passion. He spun you round, pinning you to the front door, before setting you down to your feet.

Aaron grabbed your wrists to hold them above your head, before attacking your neck with kisses. You squirmed under his touch, your head lolling back on the door with pleasure.

Aaron's eyes met yours, and he chuckled deeply in your ear. "Hi, baby," he said in a raspy voice, smirking down at you.

"H- Hi," you stuttered out to him, biting down on your lip.

"Did you miss me?" Aaron smiled, pressing rough kisses to your neck and collarbone. You whimpered at the feeling, nodding.

"Y- Yes, sir. I missed you so much," you said openly, not giving a care to how needy you sounded. Aaron nodded, only smiling more at your words.

"Mmhm. I wonder how much," Aaron hummed. "Let's see how wet you are for me, hm, baby?"

Aaron didn't give you a second to respond before his hands were dipping into your underwear, slipping between your folds. You whimpered in response as his fingers found your wetness, playing softly with your body.

"Fuck, baby, you're soaked," Aaron said to you, as if you didn't already know that. "And my voice was all it took, huh?" he smirked in a teasing tone of voice.

When you didn't answer, Aaron's grip on your wrists roughened, and it was clear that he was not taking your silence for an answer. "Tell me, princess."

You felt your knees grow weak, and you slid down the wall a little, closing your eyes shyly. "Y- Yes, sir. A- All it took was your voice," you whined.

"There's my good girl. That wasn't so hard, was it?" Aaron teased you, beginning to move his finger up and down your folds. You squirmed some more, groaning.

"N- No, sir," you stuttered out, allowing your body to be taken over by bliss.

Aaron took that as a sign to keep going, your hands still pinned above your head as he snuck a finger inside of you. Your back arched on the door behind you as your body shook for him, and you whined.

Aaron smiled at you, pressing his lips to yours in a wild frenzy of tongues mixing together, lips working each other's to no end. You were helpless to Aaron, unable to do much else but bask in the pleasure he was providing for you.

Aaron raised his head to your ear, bowing down to your level just to whisper to you. "You look so pretty like this, doll. All needy for me," he whispered in his deep voice. Your brain was beginning to fog up with your growing need to hear more of his voice.

"I love being able to do this to you," he chuckled, kissing the spot just below your ear. "Knowing you're all mine. That no one else can see you like this."

As his words fell from his tongue like honey, his fingers moved quicker, eager to make you feel good. You looked up at him, your eyes half-lidded as you licked your lips. "I- I'm all yours, Aaron. God, I'm yours."

"Damn straight, doll," said Aaron deeply, his voice raspy as he responded to you.

It was embarrassing how quickly you needed to come. But, fuck, that's what Aaron Hotchner would do to anyone, and you weren't afraid to acknowledge that.

As Aaron felt your walls closing around his finger, he looked down at you, knowing what was impending. "Mmm, you gonna come on my fingers, doll?"

"Y- Yes, sir," you moaned out, dizzy with desire. "Please, God, please don't stop."

That was the last thing on his mind.

You rode out your high with a blissful passion as Aaron pumped his fingers in and out of you, kissing you and whispering to you as you came all over his hand.

Aaron finally released your wrists when you came undone, and removed his finger from your cunt. Like he'd always done, he sucked his fingers dry, leaving you breathless at the view.

"I love you so much, sweet girl," Aaron smiled at you, using the hand that had been pinning you down to brush hair out of your face. You smiled up at him.

"I love you, too."

—

reblogs are very much appreciated! <3

—

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[nashusglasses]

it's a spotlight stuck on the ceiling (why are these the things i'm feeling?) (m)

+ based off nsfw prompts: 11.  “You’re fucking hot when you cry.” & 50.  “You’re such a good cunt/cock warmer.”

note: i got tired of writing exposition so u know what? it's F word time!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! these prompts are from this list

note 2: this is based off my gojo work husband au, which. u might be asking. where is it?????????? that's a good question. I have no answer. please enjoy and lmk if u wanna know more! 8)

PAIRING. gojo/reader GENRE. established relationship WARNINGS. oral (f receiving), overstim, crying from said overstim, multiple orgasms, penetrative sex SUMMARY. You forget you ever had a bad day. WORD COUNT. 2k

You’re past any formalities of new relationship butterflies the third time Satoru gets you naked. It’s still weird that the person who fills out invoices next to you at work knows how to make you cream around his dick, but you can’t say the added baggage of dating your coworker is a bad thing. You save on gas when you sleepover at Satoru’s place. He gets his own personal cocksleeve when he’s had a bad day in the office. It works out.

It’s you who has a bad day today. Nothing catastrophic, but IT playing email tag all day pissed you off bad. You begged Satoru to get a knife from the break room and gouge your eyes out instead of looking one more second at your monitor. He’s used to the drama. He promised you a better solution, anyway. 

He kept his hand on your thigh the entirety of the drive home; a touch you’re still not quite used to, but you melted under the warmth. You crossed the threshold of his apartment door, half-expected your typical night in with takeout from the Chinese restaurant down the street. But now you’re two orgasms deep into forgetting why you needed a pick-me-up in the first place, and Satoru’s already asking:

“Think you can do one more?”

You vibrate at the thought. That’s easy. Late nights and hours with a clit sucker have prepared you well, but this is different. Toys don’t watch you squeal, crumble at the edges. Satoru gleans your every move, especially when he’s determined to make you feel good. You’d curl up, but he keeps you pliant with a hand on your thigh.

“Stop trying to hide from me,” he snorts. “I already told you I don’t care that your left boob is bigger than the other.”

“Shut up. It’s because I’m the only one naked here.” It’s true. He’s still got his work clothes on. Sleeves rolled up, one button undone because you like to fiddle with his chest when you make out. You won’t tell him that you think his slacks make his legs look ridiculously good. 

He just teases a spit-wet finger inside you. Nothing threatening but you close your eyes in anticipation. You feel him lean over, leave a quiet kiss on your nipple as an apology. “You know I like you like this.”

You do. Satoru’s a greedy lover. Coaxing those lewd noises deep from your chest not just for your pleasure, but because he knows he’s a good fuck. He realized fast that you like his fingers the most. He takes agility to a whole new level, doesn’t stop till your bones melt into the bedsprings. One more orgasm means ultra-focusing on that explosive feeling, and now you’ve got cotton candy brains. 

You’re sweating into his sheets. Something tells you he’s craving something even wetter. You’d give it to him if it meant getting him on top of you faster.

“I can do one more,” you concede, and Satoru wastes no time settling down between your knees, licking a thick stripe over your core like he’s grateful. The heat is almost unbearable. “Oh–god.”

He cradles your thighs with a tight grip. You’ve got no choice but to take it. “Relax,” he urges. “Let me make you feel good.”

You don’t expect anything less. But that sharp jolt of pleasure every time he sucks on your clit makes your head fog over. Your hands smooth into his hair, clawing when he teases his tongue inside. “It–it hurts.”

He lifts his head, mouth and chin shining. “Too much?”

“Keep going.” You’ve got a promise to keep good on. Satoru yields to your efforts, adjusts your legs till your knees settle on his shoulders. You know this move. Leaves you trapped under that incessant tongue but you’ll fiend for it regardless, and you don’t care about the cramp in your hips. Not when he’s just so into it. 

The first time he went down on you, he let you keep the lights off. Fend off the unnecessary anxiety of seeing you so vulnerable, but he made it clear that he liked hearing you unravel underneath him. You’re not shy to moan. When he drags another hard suction on your clit, you mewl loud. “Oh my god.”

The fog thickens. Arching your back, digging your nails in his scalp because he relishes any physical reaction. He slurps at your clit till he feels you shake. He’s taking advantage of your sensitivity, but the feeling is addictive. Almost like you yearn for your demise, and he’s got you right in his palm for the taking.

You’ll always give in to him. “Satoru,” you warble. “Oh–ngh!”

He heeds your call. Clutches onto your thighs even tighter, tongue a lightning strike on all your good nerves. No need for his fingers because his mouth is just that hypnotizing. You don’t know where he’s learned how to get you to fold so fast. You’ll ask him what kind of porn he’s into later.

Satoru makes the most disgusting slurping sound, and you laugh amidst the haze. “I think–haah–you’re enjoying this more than I am.”

“What?” He grumbles, kissing the soft spot above your pussy. “I get to fuck the shit out of the hot office lady, sue me.”

You blush in the praise. “So get to it.”

“I’m getting there. You want my fingers?”

In other words, choosing your poison. You’ll come either way. Your gut clenches at the thought of his fingers inside you again, clawing at your heat till you saw white, your body spun off its axis. The assurance of his mouth is softer. More bearable, because half an hour ago he’d fingered you till your begging was gibberish and you couldn’t talk for a solid minute afterwards. His ego is the brightest hue of pride when it comes to getting you off.

So you shake your head, and Satoru bends down again. He’s done easing you into it. Craving your orgasm like he’s impatient, too, and you whine when he swipes that hot tongue with hard strokes. Inviting that deep fever till your ankles dig into his back. Your mouth is dry from your panting.

“Oh my god don’t stop,” you cry, and he groans like he’s preening. You sweat where his palms meet your skin, slippery when you twitch your hips up in instinct. “Satoru–close–!”

Your eyes roll back. Satoru holds your legs wider, eats you out like he’s starving and you’re the sweetest slice of cake on the shelf. The heat makes your chest collapse with every shaky exhale, clutching on the sheets because you’ve got nothing else to hold you down. There’s spit dripping down your ass, but you relish in that wet feeling. The nasty mix of your pleasure with his. You open your eyes, lean up on your elbows to watch him savour it too.

The sight is too much. Legs dangling over those wide shoulders, his nose nestled on your clit, pushing that tongue so deep you collapse right back. Pleasure ripples quickly from your centre into all the edges of your body, and you dissolve into desperate whining.

“Holy fuck that feels good,” you praise. Satoru just moans again. Too busy luring that climax he wants down his throat, and you don’t know what to do with yourself. It’s so much. All your frayed nerves from your two orgasms make you ache for something you don’t know you can handle. 

He probably knows it, too. You might genuinely pass out. But you haven’t tapped out yet, and he’ll let you call all the shots if it’s your pussy in question. It’s almost romantic, the way he lets you take from him, chasing that feeling from his mouth. He stokes that fire over and over again.

You settle into it. All thoughts filtered out except the sounds of Satoru’s indulgence, the squeal you let out when he teases a bite. Soothing the hot rush with fast flicks of his tongue. You tense with every movement, hips canting back and forth because staying still is too much to take. 

He doesn’t heed to that, though. He clamps his hands down, forces you to take the hard latch of his tongue, guzzling hard on one spot till you’re begging in your sheer desperation. “Oh god–! Satoru, I’m–coming..!”

There’s 0.01 of a second before you feel the wave crash, and you’re reduced to nothing but a mess of your most intense orgasm of the night. Gargling nonsense, shrieking his name, his nails digging indents in your skin to keep you from flailing too hard because holy shit are you going through it.

“Oh my god,” you hiccup, and all of sudden you’re crying, and you shiver with every tremor of your subsiding high. “Oh my god, Satoru. Holy fuck. Y-You–”

“I’m here,” he says. He leans up, wipes his (extremely!) wet mouth on the back of hand, crawling over till he can cradle your head to his chest. “Jesus. You’re shaking.”

You’re weeping. Your body shivers closer to his. “Yeah. Oh my god.”

“I can’t even lie.” He presses a soft kiss on your hair, a little reward. “You’re fucking hot when you cry.”

If you had the energy you’d kick his shins till they bruise. But for some reason you can’t stop the tears from falling, and you heave through another sob. “Yeah, well. I’ve just–never felt that before.”

Satoru grins. Leans down to kiss your mouth with no urgency, just the need to feel your lips on his. Despite your exhaustion, you know he’s still left wanting. 

You feel his dick press up against your stomach when he kisses you harder, sneak a hand down his slacks to tease a stroke. He tenses up.

“You’re not tired?” He asks. The answer is a resounding yes, but you won’t let him know. As if you could just leave him to jack off in the bathroom while you take your well-deserved post orgasm slumber. You tug at his zipper till he finally gets it, and he shoves his pants and underwear off like he’s relieved.

You sniffle when he settles over you again. “I feel like I want you all the time,” you confess. 

Call it the general horniness of discovering your partner’s body, but you can’t remember the last time your hormones have acted up like this. You’re almost scared for the calendar reminder of your next ovulation period, but you think Satoru won’t mind one bit.

He just nods. Smiles into another long kiss, and you spread your aching legs for him to position himself. It doesn’t surprise you both just how fast he slides inside you, all that residual wetness a sticky invitation. “Oh. That’s–oh don’t move yet, shit.”

It’s still new. The instant transition from empty to full, and Satoru collapses into your neck. “You’re still–so tight.”

“Means I’m not horny yet,” you joke. You don’t think you have any orgasms left in you, but the thought of Satoru creaming you till you spill over has a luring call to it. “The hell’s wrong with you?”

“My bad. Guess I’ll–” he bottoms out, and you bury a moan in his hair– “try better next time. Holy shit. You’re such a good cockwarmer.”

“Go to hell–ngh!”

“I’m taking you with me.” Satoru chokes through the small twitch of his hips, like he can’t help the motion. You feel it tenfold. Eyes rolled back with the sensitivity because you honest to god could not come again.

He rolls a deeper stroke still sticky with your arousal. Moans streaming from his mouth right into the heat of your neck, and he bites down to hear you squeal. “Fuck that feels good,” you teeter with clenched teeth.

Satoru leans up, watching you dissolve. “Like it when I go deep?”

“God yes,” you hiss. You still twinge with the novelty of dirty talk, but Satoru makes it easy to get used to. He’s earnest with his fucking now. Still shy of the harder thrusts you know he’s capable of, but you revel in the pleasure regardless. 

You’re going to start crying again. 

“Oh baby,” Satoru coos. He slams a thrust so heavy you sob. “That good?”

“Ye-es–!”

He does it again. Takes one second of breathing space to ram his dick so hard his balls make that foul sound against your ass, and you’re sure he’s watching your tits bounce like the perv he is. It feels good, knowing you get him off. He swipes a stray tear from your chin, leaning down to kiss you. Swallowing the hiccups you can’t get rid of. Satoru licks fire behind your teeth.

“How ‘bout one more?” 

He’s smiling. You’re shaking with tears and he’s smiling. Sick freak knows it’s not happening, and you bet he’s goading you because he’s close. So you shake your head, heeding with no verbal response because you can’t think straight. Not when he’s picking up the pace, bed frame complaining under you. You cry freely. “Sa-to-ru–!”

He kisses the spot between your eyebrows, grunts with every press inside you. “I’m close,” he pants. 

“I want it,” you quaver. You pull him close. Hide your face on his shoulder, forgetting to breathe. “I–I want you to come, please–!”

“Oh fuck.” He lets his pleasure guide him. Hips twitching in that desperate draw for a climax, and he sits up on his haunches just to fuck up into you faster. You’re limp with every movement, wailing from the change of position. 

He seizes the meat of your inner thighs. Keeps you embarrassingly exposed with rugged hands, and you think you’re wet all over.

“Please,” you beg. Your pussy so battered you think you’ll pass out any second now. “I can’t–”

“I’m coming.” Satoru’s head hangs forward with concentration. Watching where your centres meet, his dick creaming you full. “Oh my god baby–!”

You open your legs as much as your hips allow. It’s a depraved sight: the base of Satoru’s cock white with your combined arousal, and you can’t help but squeeze him deeper inside you. He shivers through another wave of his orgasm, pumps till he physically can’t take the warmth of your cunt, pulling out quick. He collapses on top of you.

You think he’s got cum on your stomach. “Mmmrrghhhhh,” he grumbles.

“I’m sweating balls,” you say.

“Hmmmm.”

“And I’m spilling cum onto your sheets.”

He shrugs. Still saying nothing, so you pet his hair with a tired hand. 

“I don’t think I can walk,” you tell him next.

Satoru huffs a breathless laugh. He groans incoherently one more time, then flops onto his side of the bed like a dead fish. He keeps his eyes closed. After thirty long seconds of silence, he twitches so violently you flinch. “Huh–oh.”

“There’s no way you just fell asleep.”

“Maybe.” He licks his lips like he’s parched. “Good pussy does that to you.”

“Oh my god.”

“Let me rephrase. Hot office lady pussy does that to you.” 

“I need you to stop talking,” you urge.

Satoru opens his eyes. Gives you a tired little smile, and you feel your heart twist. “You have cum on your belly button, nasty ass.”

He rolls out of bed before you can smack him. He owes you that takeout, after all.

[nwjws]

training wheels - psh

; pairing - sunghoon x fem!reader

; synopsis - you wouldn’t say that you and sunghoon were lovers, but you weren’t friends either. however, you’re finally ready to take the relationship a step further; the same can’t be said for sunghoon though.

; wc - 1.3k

; tags - more than friends less than lovers, situationship, highschool au, based on 'training wheels' by melanie martinez.

; warnings - jealousy, angsty i think? lowk possessive sunghoon, ambiguous ending, minor cursing, lmk if i missed anything

“you and y/n aren’t dating, right?”

sitting in the cafeteria with your friends, you couldn’t help but perk up at the question (presumably directed at sunghoon), overhearing the conversation nearby.

after a moment of silence, he finally replied.

“no, we’re just friends.” you deflate at his answer.

you expected it, of course. he always made it clear that you guys we nothing more.

“that’s good, so i can ask her out without worrying.”

you sit up straighter, curious. now you’re trying to recognise the voice, but it’s a little difficult without directly turning to see who it is. if you did that though, it would immediately give away your nosy eavesdropping (which would be embarrassing).

you didn’t have to try hard though, because at the next moment, the very owner of the voice tapped you on the shoulder to get your attention.

turning around, you realised it was jay, your upperclassmen and a member of the guitar club you were both in.

“oh, hi jay!”

“hey,” he grinned at you.

“is everything okay? lost another pick?” you teased, acting oblivious to the conversation you heard moments prior, in which sunghoon never replied to after jay’s last statement.

“nah, i’ve still got the one you gave me. ‘s my lucky charm you know.” he smiled at you. “if you let me take you out on a coffee date some time though, i’d be even luckier.”

you laughed lightly, ignoring kazuha’s (very loud) whisper of “that was so smooth!”

“hmm, i’ll think about it.”

jay nodded at your answer and chatted with you guys a bit mote, before he bid you and your table goodbye and stalking off to his own friends.

“y/n, what was that?” chanelle asked teasingly, giving you a knowing look when you turn back to them. “you’ve always declined other guys before.”

“maybe she’s finally moving on from sunghoon,” kazuha suggested.

“you should totally go!”

“i don’t know what you guys are talking about,” you denied innocently, forking the food on your tray.

“oh don’t play stupid, you’re always talking about-”

“y/n, let’s get to class. i’ll walk you,” a very familiar voice says right behind you.

you give sunghoon a bewildered look, glancing at your friends who wore annoyed expressions on their faces.

and understandably so, especially after you’d cry to them about your roller coaster of emotions when it comes to him every other day.

“uh, sure.”

packing up your things, you give your friends an apologetic look as you pick up your tray to put away on the way out.

sunghoon was silent all the way until you made it outside the cafe.

there was still another 10 minutes before class started, so most students were still busy enjoying their breaks. this left the halls to be relatively empty, with the exception of a few people here and there.

“spill it,” you finally say. “you’re not being very discreet. what did you want to talk about?”

“it’s nothing,” he sighs.

“it’s not nothing if it bothers you, hoon. talk to me, i hate when you do this.”

“do what?” he asked, irritation seeping into his voice. that only ticked you off.

“this! getting angry with me and not telling me why! i want you to talk to me, but you always pull shit like this,” you exploded.

“i can’t tell you! it’s going to sound weird as hell,” he defended himself.

“park sunghoon, you know that i don’t care - not when it comes to you. i want to make you feel comfortable with me, tell me anything and everything. it doesn’t matter others think, because it’s just us two.”

“fine, you really wanna know? why didn’t you turn jay down?” he finally asked.

you stared at him incredulously.

“what?”

“i said, why didn’t you immediately decline him when he asked you out?”

“why does that matter!” you throw your hands up in frustration.

“are you dumb? because you always do!”

“yeah, well. maybe i just want to date someone good for me, who’ll actually appreciate and value me.”

“and you think jay can give you that?”

“who else will? you?” you challenged him. you knew why he was doing this - he was jealous. but you needed him to admit it.

sunghoon poked his cheek with his tongue silently. you got him there.

“we’re just friends,” he says.

you sigh defeatedly, feeling your heart sink for the nth time.

“if we’re just friends, then why does it matter if i go out with jay?”

“because- you don’t want to.”

“and how do you know that?” you raise an eyebrow at him, folding your arms.

“you don’t want him, or you would’ve said yes immediately. i know you well, y/n.”

“yeah, because we’re friends,” you pause before continuing. “are we though?”

“what do you mean? of course we are,” sunghoon confirms, looking at you like you’ve grown two heads.

“sunghoon, friends don’t do what we do," you cry out exasperatedly. "and friends especially don’t get jealous when someone asks the other out,” you ranted. “do you get that with your other friends?” you ask, turning to look at him.

at his silence, you continue walking, letting him follow behind.

“i don’t know what you want sunghoon, but i’ll be very clear with you.” you stop and look at him fully.

“i want to be with you, to call you mine, and for you to do the same. i want to tell people ‘no, i have a boyfriend’. i love being with you, and everything you do.

“you i’m always here for you, and i always will. it won’t be an easy ride, but i don’t mind. i’ll always support you, if you’ll just let me.”

you look up at him, staring down at you with an unreadable expression. a beat of silence overcomes you two.

to be honest, you’re scared. you’ve never outwardly told him what you wanted, because he always made it clear he liked being ‘just friends’. it was like being rejected before even confessing.

but you’re sick. you’re sick of how you’re always the unsure one in this relationship. always questioning him and his intentions, which were certainly very leading.

you constantly tried to make your feelings for him obvious though, in the hopes he’d catch on and finally take you two seriously.

but he never did. maybe it was because he felt secure in this relationship, especially with the way you always made sure he felt so. you were like the training wheels on a bicycle in this… friendship, making sure it was always balanced and secure.

perhaps that’s why you didn’t turn jay away, finally giving sunghoon a sense of uncertainty. to see what he would do.

you wanted to let him go, in the sense that you wanted him to freely show you how much he cares for you instead, hoping he’d find his way back to you.

but his deafening silence continues until the bell rings, and it’s clear he can’t answer you.

the building noise of students filling the hallways to make their way to classes doesn’t block out the ringing in your ears, or distract you from the overwhelming pain you feel at the moment.

fuck, you knew you shouldn’t have said anything. his silence cut you like a knife; you were expecting too much weren’t you?

with a lingering look, you finally break away from his gaze and turn to make your way to class.

tears prick your eyes, blurring your vision, but you continue to speed walk away from the scene. you’re desperate to forget that ever happened. maybe you should take jay up on that request after all.

but your spiralling thoughts are stopped when you feel someone grab your wrist, and you know immediately it’s sunghoon’s.

; author's corner! this SUCKS lol i just thought of it while listening to crybaby in the shower (bc crybaby and k-12 are my comfort albums fr)

; tags! - @wonuslust

[tartigglez]

"i know it hurts..."

headcanons of some genshin boys when you have your period (pt.1??)

kaeya, diluc, thoma, childe, zhongli (separately) x afab!reader (pronouns not mentioned)

genre: fluff

word count: 800-ish

tags: periods, no distinct mention of blood, wholesome boys (for the most part), a lottttt of physical touch + petnames, kaeya is teehee, diluc is clueless as shit, thoma is absolutely whipped, childe is also clueless, zhongli is wayyyyy clued in

tw/cw: zhongli is written as genderfluid, mentions of foods/drink (soup + tea), kisses in zhongli's, i don't think there's much else to add here, lmk if i missed smth

a/n: surprise? hi! i've had a very emotional night, so its time for something extremely self indulgent. i wrote this mostly for the genderfluid zhongli agenda. also i'd like to remind everyone that i am genderfluid, my pronouns are they/she/he!!! ty, enjoy.

kaeya’s personality seems to go through some sort of shift when you’re on your period, seriously! he’ll go from being a flirty, unserious captain with an eye catching smirk to a kind, gentle, soft spoken man. he will quietly hold you if you’re in pain, and try his best to distract you. will kiss you softly and assure you that it will pass, without ever making you feel like you’re exaggerating. strokes your cheek and does whatever you want to do in order to stay distracted. 

“darling? are you alright? are you sick?”

“no, just cramps.”

“ahh, here.”

“how does this feel? you okay? comfy?”

“yeah, I’m okay. thanks kae”

“not a problem at all, lovely”

“so, how was work? 

diluc is lowkey confused at first in your relationship. he’s never spent much time around anyone who has a period, let alone having to live with one, so it makes sense (a little) that he really doesn’t understand anything that’s happening to you, or what hurts, or why, or how he can help. the first time he finds you curled up in his bedroom in dawn winery he’ll be really confused and awkward, run to adelinde and try to very discreetly ask her what to do (he doesn’t do a good job), but eventually she gets what he means, and tells him to just ask you, which he builds the confidence to do after hyping himself up for like twenty minutes.

“hi”

“hi, 'luc”

“uh… are you okay?”

“ish?”

“uhm… may i talk to you about something?”

“yeah, of course! what’s up?”

“what is… happening to you right now? it’s painful, i know, but how do i help? what do i do? what do you need? how can i make you comfortable? i don’t want you to be in pain.”

“pah, how sweet. come, sit, i’ll explain”

thoma knows exactly what is going on, and when its going on. keeps track of your periods (with your knowledge and consent ofc) just so he knows what days to bring you whatever you may need. he’s a BIG BIG acts of service and gift giving kinda guy, because he’s always in the city, so he always picks things up for you. this happens even more when you’re on your period. of course, sometimes, his estimates of your starting days will be a little bit off, so he might end up randomly doing something and it seems like its out of nowhere, and he tries to play it off like it is too. 

“thoma? what’re you doing home this early?”

“oh, I thought i’d come home and make you soup!”

“make me… soup? that’s a little strange…”

“no it’s not! it's just because i thought you liked it, especially when…y’know”

“hah, your guess was off darling, you’re two days early. still, i appreciate the thought love. let’s eat?”

childe is clueless. extremely clueless. but he’s also super duper sweet, and a very fast learner. he tries his best to understand what’s happening and what to do, but unfortunately he doesn’t really have anyone to ask about it. so he’ll literally read a book, which is rather rare for him but he would literally do anything for you. if you’re feeling really unwell, he will insist on taking the day off work to look after you. he’s extremely attentive and gentle, which is the side of him his “co-workers” don’t get to see. 

“morning baby! how’re you feeling?”

“mmhh,, morning chi. ‘m okay, a bit crampy”

“okay, i’ll stay here then.”

“what? no, you have work. you gotta go!”

“i’ll call in sick, they can live without me for a day”

“chi you can’t do this agai-”

“i’d do anything for you”

zhongli. understands. everything. okay hear me out. zhongli can take any form he wants, so sometimes out of curiosity he would change into another body. he’d get completely, utterly shocked the first time he got a period whilst in this form (it was unexpected.), but learned how to cope with it, because he wanted to be able to fully understand the struggles that some mortals might go through.

he knows exactly what to do when this happens to you, speaks to you calmly and holds you if you get cramps. will brew tea for you, and get the latest herb combinations for pain relief from baizhu. will snuggle up to you, place his hand on your stomach because it’s warm, and hold you close. kisses your neck gently and asks if you need anything, overall just a big sweetie. if you want him to, he’ll go into his half-dragon form, so he can wrap his tail around you. loves you more than anything and will do anything to make you comfortable. you need something? it’s yours, no matter the extremes he has to go to in order to get it. constantly making sure you take your time with everything, and making sure that you don’t overexert yourself.

“my love, i know you’re in pain, please don’t push yourself”

“i know, i know, i just have a little more work to do”

“i trust you, but i’m staying here with you, just in case. have you eaten? are you comfortable? do you need any pain relief?”

[salemshotspot]

THE ONLY MEDICINE I NEED

Razor Ramon x 123 Kid

WORD COUNT: 1.1k

DESC: Razor is the only thing that Kid can think of when he can't sleep [BASED ON THE BELOW MESSAGE FROM @outsiderswolfpac]

WARNINGS: Not Proof Read//Implied Anxiety//Mentions And Descriptions Of Sleep Problems//Brief Mentions Of Self-Hatred//Implied Paranoia And Delusions//Mentions Sleep Medication//Mentions Of Not Taking Meds//Mentions of Self-Destructive Behaviour

A/N >> Drop writing requests in my inbox and lmk if you'd like to be tagged/untagged in any future fics :)

TAGS: @prettyboymichaels-ao3 @outsiderswolfpac

Enjoy!

——————————————————————————

Sean defeatedly picked up his phone to check the time, the harsh blue light of his phone causing his eyes to wince; 3:48am in obnoxiously large white digits mocked him. It was the one thing Sean had always hated about himself, ever since he can remember he hasn't been able to sleep. It started at a young age, he was around six years old and he would be overwhelmed with visions of his roof caving in on him while he slept so he did his best to stay awake, almost as if staying awake would somehow ensure this wouldn't happen. He was certain he'd grow out of it, then he turned thirteen and was plagued with nightmares so graphic he still to this day shudders at the thought. Although Sean knew deep down his fears were irrational he couldn't shake them, he couldn't shake the correlation in his mind between sleep and danger, what if he goes to sleep and something bad happens to somebody he cares about? What if he went to sleep and never woke up again? He couldn't comprehend sleep as peaceful, the idea of being alive but not conscious for hours never sat right with him, it terrified the most vulnerable depth of his being.

All of this changed once Sean met Scott, there was something about him which calmed Sean, something about him which made the world stop in place, allowing Sean to feel both safe and calm enough to entertain the idea of sleep. Scott knew this; although he didn't know the exact details as to why Sean found it so difficult to sleep or why Sean needed sleep medication he knew Sean always slept much better while he was around. Both Sean and Scott were staying in a hotel in preparation for an upcoming event and Scott had insisted they book a room together, claiming it's a smart idea money wise, not wanting to let Sean know that not only does he wanted to keep an eye on him but also Scott found himself able to sleep happier when he had Sean safe with him. However the hotel had no rooms which had two beds meaning they had to book separate rooms which, although he didn't want to admit it, worried Scott, leading him to give Kid a spare key to his room 'in case of emergencies.'

From the second they had booked their rooms Sean was determined to not use the key Scott had given to him, Scott was a very straight forward man which is why Sean knew he wouldn't give him a key to his room if he wasn't completely serious about Sean being able to use it at any time so why was Sean so hesitant to do so? Maybe it was his sleep deprived mind attempting to further destroy him but Sean couldn't shake the vivid image of Scott's face painted with anger as he spoke in a mocking fashion; 'you call you struggling to sleep an emergency?' Sighing, Sean came to the conclusion that Scott's ridicule would be easier to stomach than any of the thoughts which were stopping him from sleeping so, grabbing a pillow as an extra barrier of comfort between himself and anything outside of his room, Sean slowly made his way to Scott's room at the other end of the eerily empty hall.

Once at the intimidating door which blocked him from Scott, Sean found himself paralysed, tears threatening to overwhelm his eyes, the idea of being so vulnerable with Scott, admitting to him he couldn't sleep because of a list of incomprehensible factors was almost too much for Sean, he couldn't bring himself to entertain the idea that Scott might actually throw this back in his face. Shaking his head in an attempt to shake the very idea from his mind, Sean muttered under his breath, 'no, Scott wouldn't do that, not to me' before bringing his shaky hand to the door handle to let himself into Scott's room after attempting to quietly unlock the door.

Slowly closing the door behind him, Sean's eyes scanned the room both searching for Scott and checking there was no danger in an attempt to quell his deafening thoughts. If Sean wasn't so worked up he would've smiled and chuckled softly to himself when his eyes landed on Scott who was deep in sleep, Sean has always envied how welcoming sleep was to Scott, what was it about him that made him so much more worthy of the warm embrace of sleep? What was so undesirable about Sean which made him so repulsive to the very concept of rest?

Hugging his pillow tightly, fear and embarrassment overcame Sean as he instinctively turned to leave, the idea of bothering Scott feeling foolish to him now. Before Sean could leave he heard a gruff voice in the dark; 'Sean? Is that you?' In any other situation Scott's voice being so gruff from waking up would've caused Sean's heart to flutter but Sean's self-inflicted guilt just caused tears to fall onto Sean's sunken face as he spoke; 'Scott I'm so sorry for waking you up please don't be mad' Sean's voice fell to a whisper 'I'll leave you to go back to sleep I'm so sorry.' Scott, not fully grasping what was happening shifted in bed and patted the empty space next to him, when Sean stayed stood up Scott muttered sleepily; 'are you getting in or are you going to keep watching me sleep Kid?' A wave of relief washes over Sean as he softly smiles and gingerly walks over to Scott, rolling his eyes at Sean's pace Scott gently grabs Sean once he is in his reach and pulls him down to the bed, instinctively pulling Sean close to his chest, happily humming as he caged Sean in his arms.

A few moments of peaceful silence passed before Scott yawned softly and questioned 'did you forget to take your meds?' To which Sean weakly answered; 'didn't want to take them, it just felt' his voice trailed off 'it just felt like a bad idea Scott' Sean admitted, unable to properly explain to Scott how taking his meds wasn't something his mind would let him do. Scott hummed in understanding; 'tomorrow morning give me your meds, I'll make sure you take them' he stopped once he heard how harsh he sounded, quickly changing his tone, 'I hate seeing you like this Kid, I want to make sure you're looking after yourself and if you're not then I'll do it for you.'

Before Sean could answer, Scott was already asleep once more, even in sleep holding him close, the security of Scott's arms and steady breathe quickly lulled Sean into the sleep he was so desperately craving, Scott assumed he was hearing things in his tired state but he was sure he heard Sean mutter an 'I love you' while the two men fell in and out of sleep.

—————————————————————————— A/N >> I feel like whenever I finish a fic ten more appear in my drafts

[cootiekat]

The Best Medicine: Elvis

Warnings: None :)

Pairings: Eddie Munson x Fem! reader

Genre: Teeth rotting fluff

Summary: You aren’t feeling well, so Eddie plays you your favorite songs🥹 Blurb

A/n: I am currently writing a hella long fanfic retelling of the movie ‘10 things I hate about you’ so if you wanna be on the tag list lmk 🫣

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

You’ve been feeling down the past couple days, but today hit you like a truck. Usually in the mornings you are up cleaning and making breakfast before Eddie has to leave for work. Weirdly, Eddie woke up before you. He checked the clock to make sure it wasn’t super early and to see if he could get more sleep in before he really had to get up, but it was 9:30am. Which means not only did you not get up but he was running extremely late. Eddie went to give you a kiss on your head before he left and he knew something was not right because you turned away from his kiss and mumbled something about “not feeling well” and to “leave you alone.”

Eddie thought about you all day at work. Wondering if you got out of bed to take care of yourself, if you ate or showered, and if you needed something on his way home. Eddie called the house from the phone at work and you didn’t pick up. Eddie officially knew something was up, because you always picked up the phone for him no matter what.

On Eddie’s way home, he made a quick stop at the drug store to pick up some of your favorite snacks, a bouquet of flowers, and a new teddy bear. Eddie walked through the doors and didn’t hear you walking around the house, nor did he hear the TV. Eddie wandered back into the bedroom where you were still sleeping. He lightly shook you awake.

“Sweetheart? Are you feeling alright, I brought you some presents!”

You slowly opened your eyes to the soft sound of his voice. Your heart immediately warmed at the sight of your hardcore boyfriend holding a white and red teddy bear and a bouquet of roses. “Oh my gosh! Thank you, Eddie, I really was not feeling good today.” You explained to him.

“I know, Baby. That’s why I wanted to surprise you.” He says while brushing the hair out of your face.

“Thank you, Eddie , like seriously I don’t think you understand how much I love you.” You say getting teary eyed.

“Well, don’t waste those precious tears on this. I haven’t even played you my song.”

You were surprised at the fact Eddie was going to get his acoustic guitar off the wall, because despite him being an excellent guitar player you haven’t really heard him play just to you, he always wants to impress you so he never plays you anything unless he is 100% certain he won’t make any mistakes.

As he starts playing you hear the starting notes of your favorite Elvis Presley song, Love Me, you gradually start to hear Eddie’s sweet voice when he starts the lyrics.

“Treat me like a fool.”

“Treat me mean and cruel.”

“but love me”

“wring my faithful heart”

“Tear it all apart”

You start cheering for him as he hits the high notes. You love when Eddie plays songs like this for you because its his way of showing is love for you. You walk over the the chair Eddie is sitting in and place yourself on his lap and whisper in his ear.

“Elvis is the best medicine.”

Eddie smiles at you with his perfect teeth and kisses you passionately. You realize that you have everything you need right here.

[tixdixl]

Emil Birthday Jacket Vignette - Part 3

Malleus: *glances down at his clipboard* The second question asks “If you were to transfer to a different dorm, which would it be?”

Emil: Hm… If I can’t be in Pomefiore, where would I go? This is a tough one…

Malleus: …is it because you feel like Pomefiore is a good fit for you?

Emil: Yes, absolutely. And I love my brothers so dearly. I honestly can’t say I’d be the person I am now without them.

Malleus, looking intrigued: Your brothers? You have siblings enrolled in this school?

Emil: Well, no… not my actual blood relatives. But the friends I have made in Pomefiore are close enough to me, they might as well be my brothers. You know?

Malleus: …I can’t say I do…

Emil: Fair enough!

Malleus: …do you know where else you would go then?

Emil: hm… I guess the real question is if we are going based on “core values” or if we need to go based on dorm culture.

Malleus: “Core Values?”

Emil: Yeah!! You know better than anyone that the dorms are based on the specific attributes as determined by the Great Seven. If I went based on that, I would probably have to say Scarabia.

Malleus: …you don’t sound certain.

Emil: Well, that’s mainly because if we wanted to go based on dorm culture, I would probably have to go with Heartslabyul.

Malleus: Oh?

Emil: The way the laws are followed and why. The parties and the designated foods for specific occasions, all with their historical meanings. It’s all very similar to home for me. It wouldn’t be hard to just pick things up and go. Plus… if I’m being honest, I’m sure Trey could use some help around the kitchen.

Malleus: I didn’t realize you cook. I figured you wouldn’t, considering your dorm.

Emil: Mm… Nutrition and food are actually really important to me, and to us as a dorm. I just differ in how I view food compared to Vil. But yeah, I actually really enjoy cooking, and it’s really important to me.

Malleus: So, is Heartslabyul your final answer?

Emil: Yeah, I think it is!

Malleus: …Then I believe that does wrap up the questionnaire portion of the interview. I must say, you’re far more fascinating than I originally thought you would be, Child of Man. It’s been a pleasure getting to know you.

Emil: I hope at some point, you might allow me to return the favor!

Emil: Does that mean we’re done here?

Malleus: Not quite, it appears we’ve nearly forgotten the last piece.

Emil: Oh! That’s right! The good-luck tradition!!

Malleus: You think you’re up for the challenge?

Emil: Respectfully, Malleus, we both know that you’re still gonna end up hitting me.

Malleus, chuckling and smirking: Fair point. I take it you’re ready then?

Emil: Ready when you are!

Malleus smashes the pie on top of Emil's head.

Malleus: Happy Birthday, Lehr!

Fin.

Tag list: @cyanide-latte @simons-twsted-children @inmateofthemind @ramshacklerumble

Part 1 || Part 2

@rainesol @elenauaurs @blithesharem @theleechyskrunkly

@thehollowwriter @boopshoops @starry-night-rose

Lmk if you want added/removed!

[twistedwonderlandshenanigans]

Hi I love you @my-cursed-brain (if you want me to tag your alt in the future just lmk bc. I will probably split this into different posts just for the sake of organization) Anyways!! Regarding the Dance AU, I'll give you a little bit of bg information first. Night Raven Dance Academy is a prestigious school with availability for anyone from the middle class tax bracket right on up to royalty, but the difficulty and the quality of the lessons are dependent on your financial standing. (For example, Vil, Neige, Leona, Riddle - they all have the best teachers NRDA has to offer, with a rigorous training schedule and their academics are less of a priority than dance is in terms of personal goals, and are done via asynchronous classes to accommodate for their schedule. Ace, Deuce, Vizzie (OC), are still in a pretty intense dance program, but they still have their normal classes to attend in person). NRDA is divided by floors based on where you're going for classes. Now for Neige, Riddle and Vil. They are the queen bees, studying specifically ballet. Since Leona took a temporary leave from the academy after a dance related accident, the three of them have been competing to be the top dancer at the school. They've got a "Mean Girls" sort of dynamic going, where they treat each other like enemies as much as they treat each other like friends. Part of this is because they've known each other since middle school. Part of this is the (mostly) friendly competition between them. Part of this is the Gender Envy. Neige is openly gender fluid, with supportive (adoptive) parents. This somewhat irks Vil, not just the self expression and the support, but it seems to give Neige more flexibility as their instructor knows Neige is comfortable playing either a typically female OR male lead, resulting in Neige being picked over Vil for leads often, never due to skill, only due to the comfort level the instructor has been made aware of. However he has major imposter syndrome and nobody he can talk to about it because he knows Vil and Riddle will kind of tear him apart, but his parents don't really acknowledge his issues, just telling him he's perfect and he knows its not true. Vil can't say he wants the female lead. He has considered coming out to his father as trans, but overheard a conversation his dad had with Riddle's mom, and realized the moment he told his father he would be disowned, his reputation would be ruined, and his dance career would be over. So he stays quiet, silently seething as Neige gets the glory he wishes he had. Riddle is afab in this universe. She is in denial about being trans, as she knows her mother would not be supportive, which has severely impacted her motivation and passion for dance. Everything just Feels Wrong, and when she looks at Vil and Neige she wonders why she feels a sense of loss or like something's missing. So her performance hasn't been as good as it has in the past, leading to more issues and one-sided conversations from her mother, and empty promises that she'll try to do better but she really doesn't know what's wrong. Her mental health starts to wear on her quite a bit, but Vil and Neige pick up on it eventually.

There will be a day, eventually, in which the three of them are able to really talk to each other and sort their shit but it takes A While to get there. wheeee thank you for asking about it I love talking about worldbuilding and stuff and its a great reward for when I finish chunks of hw so I really appreciate it in that way too lmao