#it is all of that but it also just looks so FUN!!!!!

[ahopefulbromantic]

Okay I NEED to tell you all a story.

So dressing up is awesome that's why every party done by my friends and me has a dresscode. There was one friend whose parties were famous, she would invite a hundred people to her relatively small flat, there was always a huge cuddle pile on her tiny couch (high school was awesome), a hot makeshift dancefloor, very loud drunken and sober singing, everyone was there, and it was a fairly cultured party, too, no hard drugs, no s*x, no scandalous behavior.

The dresscode for this particular legendary birthday party was "fruits and vegetables play together on the street" (genius i know). You could come dressed as a fruit, a vegetable, or a road sign. There were some great ideas (for example a friend of mine was a green stop sign and called himself a "cognitive dissonance! cause look, you see something like this on the street and what do you do??? do you stop? or do you go??"), some very politically incorrect ideas (there was a guy who dressed up as a comatose patient and told us he was a vegetable, truly outrageous but also the most creative one out there), bananas, pickles, zebras (as in what you sometimes call a pedestrian crossing but literally the animal), lots of traffic lights, another friend of mine somehow got a real life traffic cone and wore it on her head dressed in a reflective vest, it was awesome.

Now for all the reasons i've listed before our host was famous not only amongst her peers. That's why this time we got complaints not from one, not from two, but from FOUR neighboring blocks for disturbing the mandatory quiet hours. This was the first (and only as for now) party in my life that the police kicked me out from. It was so cool!

This would normally mean that the party was over, right? Hehehe wrong. Of course many people went home after that but a big enough group, me included, decided on a meeting place nearby in order to continue the fun outdoors by the river, singing "Do you hear the people sing?" as we went. Before that, though, we had to get some food.

So now, imagine being an around-60-something shop assistant. Imagine it's nearly 11pm, just before you will need to close the store for tonight. In come several young people of varying ages, all dressed up as pickles, potatoes, fruit, traffic cones, road signs, etc. They all get very excited over your fruit and vegetables section, one guy lifting a bunch of bananas and tearfully saying, "look, it's my family!!!" Some of them probably are in the middle of a philosophical discussion. Some of them are singing either musical theatre numbers or Christian choral passion hymns. All in all they look like they have just escaped a mental asylum.

Needless to say, we got kicked out of the store, too

My friends and I used to do this thing where we'd dress up on a theme and go do something totally normal.

We dressed up as pirates and went bowling.

We dressed as vikings and went to the grocery store. The security guard told us we had to move our longship because it was illegally parked.

We dressed as Romans and went to Blockbuster. The staff chanted, "toga! Toga! Toga!" at us.

We dressed up all steampunk and went to the museum. Tourists kept taking our picture.

[fireinmoonshot]

touchy | joaquin torres x reader

Pairing: Joaquin Torres x Reader Summary: Joaquin has a thing where he always likes to have a hand on you whenever you're together – holding your waist, holding your hand, a hand resting on your thigh. You finally decide to confront him about why. Warnings: Mentions of food, a kind of spicy make-out scene. Word Count: 1.6k A/N: I had this idea and I just had to write it. It's shorter than my other Joaquin fics but I had so much fun writing it and I really just wanted to get something else for Joaquin out for you guys! Please send in requests for him if you have any! 💗

One thing you never expected when you started dating Joaquin Torres was how touchy the man was – there was barely any time when the two of you were together when he wasn’t touching you in some way. 

It surprised you at first. He never came across as that kind of person. He was the definition of a Golden Retriever boyfriend. But then you’d be standing with him at a party and you’d feel his hand wrap around your waist, or whenever you had to cross the road, he’d hold your hand (not unlike your parents used to do when you were a child), or when you were at home watching a movie on the couch, his hand would rest on your thigh.

After several months of this, you finally decided to ask him why.

“Joaquin, can I ask you something?” You call from where you’re sitting in the living room, your eyes flickering up from the book that was on your lap – the one you’ve been trying to read and failing, owing to the fact that your boyfriend has been strutting around your apartment shirtless ever since he got out of the shower.

“Course you can, angel,” he calls back from the kitchen.

Out of the two of you, Joaquin is the cook of the family. You hadn’t trusted him in the kitchen at first – he had always seemed the type of person to accidentally chop off a finger because he was too distracted. But so far, no such accidents had occured and he was much better at making a delicious meal than you were.

You were quick to close your book and get up from the couch, padding through the hallway into the kitchen to see him standing at the bench, chopping something up on a cutting board in front of him – still irritatingly shirtless.

“Cooking shirtless is dangerous, you know,” you say, announcing your presence. 

His eyes flicker up towards you. “For you or for me?”

You give him a look. “For you, pretty boy. I’m not the one holding the knife.” 

Joaquin grins at you before putting the knife down, wiping his hands on the cloth on the bench beside him and grabbing the apron hanging over the back of one of your bar stools. “Should I put this on then? Someone clearly isn’t enjoying the show.” 

“Baby,” you roll your eyes at him jokingly, crossing the room and snatching the apron out of his hands. “You know that’s not what I meant. I meant you could get burned by oil or slip and cut yourself or… well… there are plenty of dangers to cooking shirtless.” 

Joaquin smirks, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you to his chest so you’re pressed together. “Angel, all those things you just listed are also things that could happen to me if I were wearing a shirt. You know that, right?”

You can’t help the way you pout at him. “Not my point, Joaquin.”

He grins and presses a quick peck to your lips. “Was that what you were coming in here to talk about?” He asks, his thumb swiping gently back and forth over your waist. 

“No, actually,” you hum. “I was coming here to talk about this.” You motion in-between the two of you, at the contact between your bodies. You’re not not a fan of it – of course you love it – but it does amuse you, the fact that your boyfriend always wants to have a hand on you at all times. 

Joaquin raises his eyebrows. “We playin’ charades? Am I meant to guess?”

You laugh a little. “No, silly. This. The way I walked into the kitchen and you swept me up into your arms immediately. The way you always have a hand on my back when we walk somewhere. The way you put your hand on my thigh when we’re on the couch. The way you’re touching me all the time.” 

Irritatingly, your words have the opposite effect than intended and Joaquin steps away from you, removing his hand from your waist. You immediately miss the warmth of his body, the feeling of his hand on your waist, and almost reach back out for him. 

“You don’t like it?” Joaquin asks, eyebrows furrowed in worry.

You hate the look on his face – the way he looks like a wounded puppy. His usually playful eyes look sad, full of fear and you can read his expression immediately. He thinks that by doing these things, he’s made you uncomfortable.

“Baby, no – I love it!” You attempt to rectify the situation. “I just was curious about why.”

Unable to keep looking at his sad puppy dog eyes anymore, you step forward, cupping his cheeks in your hands gently. His hands tentatively rest on your waist, as if he’s afraid you’re going to move away at any second but he simply can’t help but to touch you, just a little.

“You’re so touchy and I love it, Joaquin. I love having your hands on me all the time, I swear. Just now when you took your hands off my waist it was like… like it was suddenly winter and I was freezing cold without them. I just wanna know why you do it,” you explain further, making sure you keep eye contact with him.

Joaquin frowns a little. “I guess I never really thought about it,” he replies. “I think I kinda just do it without meaning to. I just love the feeling of having my hands on you, feeling your warmth, reminding myself that you’re beside me. And I mean…” He clears his throat. “Have you seen yourself, angel? Why would I not wanna touch you at any given opportunity?”

It’s like his confidence makes a return to his body, then. His grip on your waist gets tighter and he pulls you closer, forcing you to drop your hands from his face. They rest on his shoulders instead as he backs you up a little so you’re leaning against the counter. His body is pressed against yours again, like it was only minutes ago. The warmth you’d missed before falls over you like a sheet of pure comfort.

You can’t keep the smile off your face at his words and actions. “That’s kinda cute, Joaquin,” you admit. “That you do it without thinking about it. Like I said, I love the feeling of you having your hands on me too.”

“Cute?” Joaquin looks at you with raised eyebrows. “You think I’m cute?”

It’s hard not to smile at his tone. “Yeah, adorable. You’re like a little puppy. You were looking at me before with the most puppy dog eyes I’ve ever seen on a person. You looked so sad, I just wanted to pick you up and–”

Before you can finish speaking, Joaquin cuts you off by pressing his lips to yours. You moan at the sudden feeling of his lips, the feeling of his tongue swiping against your bottom lip. The way that his hands grip your waist tighter, one of them roaming up your back to grasp at the back of your neck so he can kiss you deeper.

The edge of the counter digs into your back but you barely even notice the feeling. One of your hands moves to run through Joaquin’s hair – it’s short, but long enough for you to grip, the other on his back. The feeling of his muscles against your palm only makes you want to kiss him more. The last thing you want to do is break apart for air.

Your breath hitches as he squeezes your waist again, forcing your lips apart. Both of you are breathing heavily, though the break doesn’t last long. Joaquin wastes no time in kissing you again, but this time his lips move from yours to your jaw. He presses soft, gentle kisses along the side of your jaw and down your neck. You tilt your head backwards, giving him better access. When your hand grasps onto his hip, he gasps a little and you can’t help but smile at the sound. 

“See?” You mutter breathlessly, tilting your head forward again to meet his eyes. “I told you that cooking while shirtless was dangerous.”

Joaquin laughs at that, a gorgeous smile finding its way onto his face. You look at him, at the sweat on his forehead, the look of lust and love in his eyes, the way his chest moves up and down quickly, his breath still heavy from your small make out session. He’s easily the most gorgeous man you’ve ever laid eyes on… and he’s all yours.

He moves his hands down to your waist again and before you can do anything about it, he’s lifting you up so you’re sitting on the counter and pushing your legs apart so he can stand in-between them. At this angle, you’re basically the same height.

“I see no problems here, angel,” he flashes that gorgeous grin again before messily pressing his lips to yours again. He pulls away quickly though, much to your disappointment. “Now that we’ve established that I’m not cute, I am going to continue cooking you dinner. I’ll let you go back to your book.”

“Oh no,” you shake your head, turning to watch him as he returns to the cutting board. “I have a much better view right here than I do in the living room, baby. Besides, someone has to supervise you to make sure you stay safe while cooking like that… it’s bound to be a hard job but I’m pretty certain I’m up to the challenge...”

[ariichive]

JEALOUSY☆゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜★

jealous scenarios ft. phainon, anaxa, and mydei!

gen. neutral reader

cw: anaxa is kinda crazy he puts his gun to reader, possessiveness, mentions of violence, fluff, not proofread im so tired :')

☆゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜★

phainon

phainon was one to pride himself on his natural charm, he was a very easy going guy. the stark contrast between him in battle and off was admirable.

though as much as he hates to admit it, sometimes the warrior takes over his instincts. for instance, right now as he watched the droma’s caretaker openly flirt with you.

it wasn’t just the flirting—though that was annoying enough—it was the way you laughed, the way your eyes softened, the way you didn’t immediately pull away. phainon knew you weren’t his, not in the way that would justify this sudden surge of possessiveness. but logic had never been good at taming instinct.

his fingers twitched at his side, an old habit from years of battle. the part of him that thrived in combat, the part that didn’t hesitate when faced with a challenge, whispered at him to act. it would be so easy to step in, to slide an arm around your waist, to make it clear to everyone in the room—especially to the man standing too close—that you weren’t available.

but that wasn’t his place. not yet, at least. so instead, he forced himself to take a breath, to unclench his fists, to remind himself that he was phainon—charming, laid-back, not the type to pick a fight over something so trivial.

“phainon, this one likes me!”

his stoic expression softened when he realized, in fact, you were talking about the loving dromas and not that man.

phainon smiled gently at your joy, “i can tell, he sure does like you a lot!”

there was a certain edge to his voice that could’ve been missed by onlookers. you gave him a concerned glance, one which he smiled at and didn’t question further.

and yet, when the caretaker let out another laugh, explaining the most basic knowledge of dromas ever, his hand brushing against yours, phainon found himself smiling again. it wasn’t a friendly smile.

“having fun?” he asked, voice smooth but carrying an edge beneath it as he finally approached the two of you.

“yeah—!” you were quick to respond only to look up at phainon and realize his attention wasn’t on you. “phainon..”

“yes my lovely spouse, who i treasure more than any riches and i’d also kill for?” now his attention was focused on you, his smile bittersweet.

the thing with phainon is whenever he looked at you, there was always such intensity.

“don’t start, i’m okay i promise.”

there was a joking tilt to your voice, but it was enough to calm him down.

“now, come over and feed the dromas with me! this one’s name is castor, very sweet we should take him home!”

phainon let out a dramatic sigh, placing a hand over his heart. "my love, as much as i would adore bringing castor home, i fear he would not fit through our door."

you laughed, reaching out to pet the dromas, who nuzzled into your touch affectionately. "we could make it work," you teased, "build a bigger door, you're strong enough. or, you know, just let him live in our backyard."

phainon hummed in thought, stepping closer until he was right beside you. "tempting," he mused, reaching out to pet castor. "but then i’d have to compete for your affection, and i don’t think my heart could take it."

you rolled your eyes, nudging him playfully. "oh, please. you already know you’re my favorite."

his grin softened into something more genuine, his blue eyes filled with something tender. "good. because my dearest, you are mine." phainon swears the dromas narrowed its eyes at him (the caretaker did too but phainon was too busy enjoying the memoment with you to get mad all over again).

you burst into laughter as the dromas let out a soft sound, clearly pleased with itself. "maybe if you were as cute as them, you’d stand a chance."

phainon clutched his chest. "wounded. utterly wounded."

but despite his theatrics, he leaned in closer, his hand brushing against yours as you both continued to feed the dromas together, the warmth between you as steady as ever.

...

"y'know, maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea to take one home, then we wouldn't have to come back here. i can't believe that vile man had the nerve to even look at you..!"

"phainon, my dear, we are not actually going to take one home."

"...i like the name kevin, wouldn't you agree, [name]?"

the rest of the day was spent with phainon in your ear.

☆゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜★

anaxa

the carefully crafted lunched in your hands was the least of your worries as a soft click was heard from behind you followed by a pressure being applied to the back of your head.

just to think; you went out of your way to bring lunch to your oh-so-kind boyfriend and this is how he greets you?

you would say you're surprised but... this isn't the first time something like this has happened.

"do tell me, what's the foul mood for now?"

he didn't appreciate the snarky comment as the gun pushed against your head even more.

"my [name], you seemed to enjoy yourself outside with that man. would i be correct to assume so?"

so this is what he's mad about.

you exhaled slowly, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. "if you must know, i was just making conversation. you know, something normal people do?"

the gun pressed harder against your skull in response, the warning clear. anaxa hated being mocked.

"careful," he murmured, voice quieter now, more dangerous. "i'm already being generous by allowing you to explain yourself. do not test my patience."

you tilted your head slightly, just enough to catch a glimpse of him from the corner of your eye. his expression was unreadable, but his grip on the gun was steady—too steady.

"allowing me to explain myself?" you echoed, amusement creeping into your tone. "and here i thought my oh-so-loving boyfriend would trust me a little more by now."

anaxa exhaled sharply through his nose, but he said nothing. the silence stretched between you for a few moments before the pressure at the back of your head finally disappeared.

anaxa let out a low hum, his voice smooth yet laced with something sharp—jealousy, possessiveness, something only he could wield so effortlessly. "you know how i feel about you entertaining the company of other men," he said, tilting his head slightly. "and yet, there you were, laughing as if you had no care in the world."

you sigh, "i promise you it was a very brief interaction. i even told him i was visiting you for lunch."

anaxa looked away in faux annoyance as he gently took the lunch from your hands.

"thank you, [name]." anaxa was genuine in his thanks, he understood how troublesome it could be to reach him in the grove of epiphany.

you rolled your eyes, crossing your arms. "i'd say 'you're welcome,' but i'm not sure you deserve it after that stunt."

he sighed dramatically, setting the lunch down on his desk before taking a seat. his movements were as measured as ever, graceful even in something as simple as this. "you wound me, truly," he drawled, undoing the buttons of his cuffs and rolling his sleeves up. "but i suppose my cruelty knows no bounds, does it? threatening my beloved over something as insignificant as a passing interaction."

"so you admit it was ridiculous?" you quirked a brow, leaning against the edge of his desk.

anaxa leaned back slightly in his chair, watching you with a gaze so heavy it felt like an unseen weight pressing against you. "i admit nothing," he corrected, voice as smooth as ever. "but even the most brilliant minds are prone to… lapses in judgment."

you let out a small scoff, shaking your head. "right. 'lapses in judgment.' is that what we're calling your absurd jealousy now?"

he exhaled through his nose, as if considering your words, before finally opening the meal you had brought him. "call it whatever you like, my dear," he said idly, plucking a piece of food with deliberate ease. "but tell me, if i were to flirt so freely with another, would you be so composed?"

your mouth opened, but the words died on your tongue. anaxa watched your hesitation with something akin to satisfaction, his smirk deepening ever so slightly.

"i thought as much," he said smoothly, taking a slow, deliberate bite of his food. "jealousy, my dear, is a universal affliction. i am simply more… expressive about mine."

you huffed, looking away, but the warmth in your cheeks betrayed you. "you're insufferable and lucky i have the patience for you," you muttered.

he let out a soft chuckle, low and indulgent. "patience," he mused, reaching out to brush a gloved finger against your cheek, slow and deliberate. "such a rare and commendable virtue. though i must wonder..."

his touch trailed lower, tracing the curve of your jaw before finally resting under your chin. with the lightest pressure, he tilted your face ever so slightly upward, forcing you to hold his gaze.

"how much longer will that patience last, i wonder?"

you swallowed, refusing to look away. "depends," you said, barely above a breath. "how many more times do you plan on pulling a gun on me?"

anaxa’s lips curled into the faintest smirk, but his eyes flickered with something softer—something dangerously close to fondness.

"ah," he sighed dramatically, finally releasing you and leaning back into his chair. "a fair question. but, my dear, you wound me. surely you know by now that i only threaten the things i cannot bear to lose?"

you stared at him, feeling both shocked and flustered.

you huffed, shaking your head as you finally relented, letting the conversation settle into something resembling peace. and despite everything—despite his absurd possessiveness, his impossible nature, his maddeningly smug demeanor—you couldn’t bring yourself to pull away.

because somehow, against all logic, against every ounce of reason—anaxa was yours. and that was something even he, with all his sharp words and sharper wit, could never deny.

☆゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜★

mydei

mydei always found himself in petty competitions with phainon. whether it was who could pick the most apples to who could slay the most enemies, phainon always knew how to push his buttons.

though he might’ve pushed them a little too far..

“afraid you’ll lose? i would’ve never guessed that the great mydeimos was scared of talking to a girl. or are you scared [name] will end up liking me more?”

“deliverer,” mydei said with a scary amount of joy in his voice, “tell me, do you enjoy being humiliated by a kremnoan heir?”

“so is it a deal?”

“if that’s what you wish to call it, we’ll start now. try not to make an utter fool out of yourself. you won't even be able to touch them."

there was absolutely no way mydei was going to even let phainon breathe the same air as you.

phainon grinned, entirely unfazed by mydei’s sharp tone. “oh? possessive already? my, my, what will [name] think of this? surely they've noticed your crush on them by now.”

mydei exhaled through his nose, crossing his arms. “they will think nothing of it because you will not get the opportunity to so much as look at them.”

phainon laughed, tilting his head with an almost lazy confidence. “bold words. i wonder if you’ll still be saying that once they’re hanging off my arm instead.”

the barely restrained fury in mydei’s eyes was almost comical. “you delude yourself.”

“and you’re stalling.” phainon shrugged, already turning on his heel. “come now, mydeimos. unless, of course, you are afraid?”

mydei scoffed, stepping forward with an air of unwavering confidence. “i fear nothing—least of all a fool with an overinflated ego.”

the competition had begun.

mydei was the first to find you. he's always remembered the places you often frequented, the bathhouse being common among them.

mydei found you tucked away in one of the quieter corners of the bathhouse, steam curling through the air in delicate wisps. he approached silently, his footsteps barely making a sound against the stone floor.

he had always been observant—perhaps more than you'd realized. no matter how much time passed, he never forgot the places you sought comfort in.

"i thought i'd find you here," he murmured, his voice low and steady, cutting through the gentle trickle of water. "it's peaceful here," you said softly, returning your gaze to the water, watching a rubber duck float by.

after a long moment, you glanced at him, the tension in your chest easing just a little.

"you always find me."

mydei's crimson eyes softened, a rare hint of fondness breaking through his composed exterior.

"of course," he said quietly. "you're worth finding."

mydei had a huge advantage over phainon; everything that came out of his mouth was genuine.

you felt your body heat amplifying from his intense gaze, the steam from the bath worsening your situation.

the air between you two felt thick with unspoken words, the steam in the room only adding to the intensity. mydei’s crimson eyes were locked onto you with an unwavering focus, as if trying to read something deeper than just your expressions.

“you know, you really don’t make this easy,” you muttered, trying to divert your thoughts, the heat rising in your chest feeling like it might burst through your skin.

he raised an eyebrow, his gaze never leaving yours. "make what easy?"

you shifted uncomfortably, the faintest of blush creeping onto your cheeks. “this... this tension.”

mydei tilted his head slightly, the smallest of smirks tugging at the corner of his mouth. “tension?” he repeated, his voice smooth and calculated. “i’m simply speaking the truth.”

you shot him a glance, his words echoing in your mind. you’re worth finding.

it wasn’t like you hadn’t heard him say such things before, but this time, it felt different. There was no teasing, no veiled sarcasm—just the raw sincerity that mydei rarely offered.

“you never do anything half-heartedly, do you?” you said, a small sigh escaping your lips.

mydei didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he stepped closer, his presence looming like a silent promise. His gaze softened as he spoke, but there was still a quiet intensity behind it.

"only when it’s worth it," he said, his voice almost a whisper, but it still hit you like a wave.

your heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, you forgot how to breathe.

he moment hung between you two, the weight of his words settling deep within you. mydei’s presence was suffocating in the best way—an intensity that seemed to radiate from him, the kind that made it impossible to think of anything else but him.

you opened your mouth, but the words stuck. something about his steady gaze and the closeness between you left you speechless, your heart thudding in your chest.

“mydei…” you whispered, almost as if testing the air, "would you like to join me in the bath? i'm sue it'll help relieve any sores you might have?"

mydei's gaze flickered to you, and for a brief moment, the quiet intensity in his eyes softened, replaced by a curious, almost amused glint. he took a step closer, the space between you two shrinking even more.

“you offer me company in the bath?” he asked, his voice holding a hint of surprise. “how… bold.”

you could hear the teasing undertone in his words, but it wasn’t as biting as usual. there was something more… tender in the way he spoke, something that made your heart flutter despite the calmness of the moment.

“i only thought it might help you relax,” you replied, keeping your tone light, though your pulse quickened slightly under his steady gaze. “and you’re always so tense. even the crown prince needs to rest now and then.”

mydei let out a quiet chuckle at that, the sound warm and soft, like the fleeting warmth of the bath. "i’m afraid i’ve never had much time for relaxation," he murmured, his tone shifting again, darker, but with an edge of something more vulnerable. "but perhaps you’re right. it’s been... a long time since i allowed myself the luxury."

there was a pause, and you could see the weight of his words settle over him, like he’d just made a decision. his eyes softened, and he took another step closer, his fingers brushing against your wrist as he gently took your hand.

"then, i’ll join you. for once, perhaps i could allow myself this."

as mydei settled comfortably next to you in the bath, he couldn't help but wonder where phainon had been all this time.

and there was a small voice in the back of his head, saying 'if phainon found you first, would you have invited him into the bath with you?'

he glanced sideways at you, his gaze unreadable for a brief moment as he tried to suppress the discomfort he felt at the idea.

as he took in your relaxed face, mydei realized how important such moments were to the two of you. this was just the start of many more scenarios he would spend with you.

if you enjoyed please consider following/liking/reblogging :)

i just love the idea of unhinged anaxa

[hungharrington]

show-time

request: i cannot stop thinking about asking steve if he ever got himself off to you before you got together. he’d be so blushy and sheepish about it but man it’d be fun to watch him squirm 🤤

2.1k words, established relationship, masturbation (steve), gn!reader, MDNI this entire blog is 18+

It’s a universally awkward experience to have a sex-scene come on in a movie. Unless one’s watching it alone, of course.

You are not. Cuddled in behind you, cushioning you against his chest, Steve lounges, his eyes fixed on the screen.

Sure, in terms of awkwardness-rankings, watching this with your boyfriend who you also have sex with isn’t as bad as, like, watching with parents.

But still. You kinda can’t tell if you should be watching or averting your eyes — and you don’t want to peek over your shoulder to figure out what Steve’s doing.

The man in the film grunts, his hand in his pants jerking furiously, his eyes fixed on a polaroid of the film’s love interest.

You squint—surely this is stretching the truth a bit?

Yeah, yeah, guys jerk off, you know that - this isn’t your first day on earth.

You just didn’t think it would be like, romantic style. People in movies kiss in the rain and run through airports, so they’re hardly known for being grounded in reality.

The man in the film groans lewdly and you feel Steve shift slightly behind you, his fingers looped around your middle twitching.

Did he-? When you-? You suppose you’ve never really thought about it.

You’re asking before you can second guess yourself.

“Did you do this?”

Steve’s attention switches idly from the screen to you as you crane your neck to look back at him. His brows pinch together.

“Did I do what?” He asks, doting brown eyes searching your face.

You fluster a bit. This is certainly moving you up through the awkwardness rankings. But now it’s in your head —now you’ve said it — you can’t turn back.

The thought of it blazes hotly through your mind.

Steve, all those months ago, still just crushing on you, but never quite making a move. He’d told you, whispered his secret, when you’d finally gotten the nerve to ask him to be your boyfriend officially, that he’d been sweet on you far longer than you knew.

But the image of it is what has you interested. You imagine Steve, his fist stuffed into his tight jeans, working himself over and biting his fist to hide his moans, at the mere thought of you.

You’d had plenty of long, late night conversations on the phone before officially getting together.

The thought of if he’d ever touched himself while you talked, none the wiser on the other end, wanders into your mind — and your stomach clenches hotly at the thought.

Clearing your throat, you tip your head towards the screen.

“Like, before we got together?”

It takes Steve another glance at the screen to realise what you’re asking. A simmering, pink colour crawls up his neck and in a moment, you go from feeling awkward to feeling downright devious.

Steve clears his throat, his eyes darting rapidly back and forth from the screen to your face. “Uh, I- I mean, why do you ask?”

A coy smile curls at your mouth. “I wanna know how accurate it is.”

Steve stares down at you, the pink now creeping up his cheeks and to the tips of his ears. God, he looks delectable like this.

Is this how he looked when he did it too? Blushy and embarrassed to commit such a filthy act thinking of someone that wasn’t his? A hot buzz drizzles through your core, fringed with endearment.

Steve licks his lips nervously. His hands on your stomach stiffen and then relax. The film plays on in the background. His expression shifts towards something sheepish.

“It’s — I, uh, well, yes.” He stammers. “It’s accurate, yes.”

“How many times?”

Steve’s eyes narrow, but his face gets redder. “What is this, an interrogation now?”

You giggle, drinking in his evidently embarrassed state. The confirmation of him doing it solidifies the perfect image of him in your mind, your own film-scene imagining Steve in the same position as the character on screen. In real life, Steve moves his hand to tug at the collar of his shirt.

“I’m just… enjoying the idea of it.” You muse.

“Uh huh,” Steve says, tongue jammed into the side of his cheek. “Not just—” He fumbles for his words. “Just enjoying seeing me, I don’t know, like—”

His words trail off and his head tips back with a groan, exposing the delicious expanse of his throat. It begs you for kisses and love bites. He moves both hands up to cover his face.

You wait til he pulls them away to nod. “Absolutely, baby. Watching you squirm is far more interesting than this film.”

In the background, the man on screen gives a pornographic shout as he finishes in his pants. Steve manages to turn redder, even if he keeps his eyes fixed on you.

“But I’m just,” You huff and pout. “Put out, I guess. You did all that for me and I didn’t even get to see it.”

At the exact same time, you watch as Steve’s pupils dilate, blowing out in obvious lust, and something pressed against your back thickens up.

Steve, to his credit, only makes one strained noise which he immediately smothers with a cough. You feel his hips twitch beneath you and make a quick decision, confidence built on the sweltering heat of Steve’s face.

You push forward and up, then quickly turn, slotting your knees across either side of Steve’s thighs, perching atop them nicely.

You’re not outright in his lap—there’s room between the two of you for what you hope will happen.

It takes Steve another long moment to catch your drift.

“Wait, you want-?” He inhales sharply. You can see the twitch of his cock through his loose sweatpants. “To see?”

“To watch,” You clarify, smiling almost mischievously. “Yeah.”

Then just to check, “Is that okay?”

Steve’s breath shudders out of him but he’s nodding before the question is completely out of your mouth.

“H-Here?” He checks. You nod, resting your hands atop your thighs to show you don’t plan on using them. Steve’s hungry eyes scan you up and down, the tent in his pants pitching up in arousal.

“Just show me how you did it,” You murmur, words on the side of sultry. Your own excitement, that faint thrum of pleasure, has already started to pool low in your gut.

“Yeah, but I normally don’t have an audience for it,” Steve mumbles, his left-hand reaching for the drawstrings of his sweats.

They come undone with a simple tug. Steve stretches the elastic out a bit and then slips his hand in.

You know the moment his large hand settles around his cock from the flutter of his lashes, the soft groan that curls out his throat, rough and sweet all at once.

This… This is new. You usually don’t get such a focused look at Steve’s pleasure, at the little shifts in his expression, too wrapped up in your own pleasure to pay proper attention. Getting this much detail sends a delicious throb between your thighs. You hardly want to blink.

Steve’s hand moves slow to begin with, slow, gentle strokes to get himself properly warmed up.

After a moment, he draws his hand back and some part of you worries he’s too weirded out now. But he only brings it up, to his mouth, and you realise what he’s doing.

Quickly stealing his hand, Steve’s eyes widen as you let spit drop from your lips and pool in his palm. Another soft, jagged noise drags from his throat.

“Jesus Christ,” He murmurs, more to himself. ���This is not what it’s like when it’s just me, this is, like, ten fucking times hotter.”

His hand sneaks back into his sweatpants but this time when he grips his cock, the reaction this time is immediate.

Steve moans, louder this time, his eyes crushing closed and his hand starts moving faster. With the help of your spit, it doesn’t take long before you can hear it, the slick sounds of him fucking his cock desperately.

His head tips back against the couch and a piece of hair flops over, into his eyes.

You reach out and brush it to the side and Steve’s eyes crease open at the same time a whine threads through his moans.

“Fuck,” He grunts. He sinks in teeth into his bottom lip, his eyes desperately roaming your face. “Fuck, baby, you’re so pretty.”

“That what you thought bout?”

You’re impressed with yourself for the cool, calm demeanour you’re portraying. Steve nods, the motion a little wild, his hand still making those lewd, wet noises.

“Uh huh,” His voice shakes a little. “Just, fuck, dunno, like, your face and-uh-what y-you’d sound like.”

Your eyes glitter with interest, ego raring at the devotion your boyfriend is spilling out.

“What I’d sound like?”

“Y-Yeah,” Steve stammers, his breathing heavy. “Like, doing this.”

Now that’s a picture; Steve jerking off to the thought of you, hot and bothered with your hand between your thighs. You give a breathy gasp without meaning to.

Steve hears it, groaning louder as he quickens his pace. You sort of want to reach forward and ruck up his shirt, so you can see the glorious clench of his stomach as he rolls his hips up into his warm hand.

“Can I see more?” You ask tentatively. “Please?”

This time, it’s more like a whimper that creeps out of Steve’s throat.

“Oh my god,” Steve mumbles through a stilted moan. “Jesus Christ. Yeah, yeah, of course.”

He swallows heavily, his free hand reaching down to push at his waistband. You help, lifting up to help tug the fabric out of the way.

Obstructions removed, your mouth salivates. Steve’s cock is pretty — and it looks that much more enticing when it’s worked up, pink and the tip of it leaking all over his hand.

Steve’s a fucking vision. His head still lolled back, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. His throat, dotted with moles, crawling with pinkness. His big, veiny hand wrapped around his cock, pumping it steadily.

You think about how much you’d like the lick the trail of hair on his tummy, down, down, down.

“You seem close,” You say and it earns you a reedy whimper in response. “Is it- does it normally happen this fast?”

“Are you kidding me?” Steve whispers back. His eyes are closed and after a moment, you realise he’s trying to keep himself from cumming too quickly, even as his hand doesn’t slow. “I—ngh— n-normally don’t have such good, ah, material. My imagination is— is not this good.”

You’re equal parts flattered and flustered, heat twinging in your gut.

“Can— can I?” Steve whimpers out suddenly.

The question nearly throws you. You almost say Can you what? when the meaning of it douses you in fire.

He’s asking permission.

Oh, that does something to you.

“Yeah, Stevie,” You say, voice lilting closer to a coo. “I wanna see it, please.”

Something shifts in his motions, changing gear as Steve’s hand suddenly starts moving in smaller, tighter strokes, just over the head of his cock. His head tucks forward, his eyes scrunched closed, and he’s whimpers out, “thank you, thank you, thank you.”

It only takes a few seconds, the whine in Steve’s voice pitching higher and higher, until something gives.

His hips take over, something desperate and primal shoving them up, his thrusts rapid and frantic. His hand doesn’t stop moving, not even as his cock starts to leak out ropes of cum, shooting out enough to cover the back of his knuckles. It joins your spit to rub slick against his cock.

He keens pitifully. For one long minute, you listen to Steve’s breathy whines get softer and softer, watch his desperate thrusts abate til an overstimulated shiver wracks through his body. Then, and only then, does he collapse back, sinking into the couch.

He’s a bit ruined, truthfully.

And you’ve soaked through your panties.

“You’re welcome,” You croak, throat dry. His hair is back in his eyes and lean forward, tenderly brushing it out of the way. You leave your hand there, cupping the side of his face, and Steve leans into it, still panting.

“What?” He asks.

“You were thanking me,” You point out cheekily.

Steve’s face plunges back to that scarlet colour you’re beginning to adore most ardently. He turns his face further to hide away in the palm of your hands.

“Shut up,” He mumbles.

“So you don’t wanna do that again?” You tease.

Steve pulls back and eyes you. “Now, hang on, I didn’t say that…”

[navybrat817]

This man. This gif!

Take Them Off

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky just wants to read. You have other ideas.

Word Count: Over 900

Warnings: Established relationship, implied smut, teasing, slight possessive behavior, dirty talk, mentions of spanking and fingering, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: Another quickie, but I hope you lovelies. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky didn’t ask for a lot. In fact, all he wanted to do today was finish his book and not move from his chair. Very simple, and he should’ve known you would take it as a challenge.

Since he said he didn’t want to move from his chair, you decided to tease him and strut around the place in just your underwear as you did chores. And not just any pair of underwear. You had a pair specially made that had “Property of Bucky Barnes” written on the front and back. He was hard and aching for what felt like hours thanks to you.

He could admit it was fun when you teased him, but he could only take so much.

“Take them off.”

Three simple words. All you had to do was listen. Bucky sure as hell put enough authority in his voice, and he knew damned well you heard him since you looked over your shoulder with a playful smirk.

“What was that?” you asked, toying with the band of your underwear. “You want me to take these off?”

He exhaled slowly and gripped the arms of his chair. It was an impressive feat that he hadn’t done any damage to the furniture. “Yeah. Take them off. Now.”

You pretended to think about it. “Or what?”

Bucky snarled when you darted just out of his reach and had the audacity to shake your ass at him, which only made you smirk more. Whenever you got close to him, you moved away with a giggle. Both of you knew he could catch you if he wanted to, and he would, but he was trying his best not to leave his chair.

But once you got close enough, he’d put you over his knee. Maybe spank you. Maybe yank that special pair of underwear down and fuck you with his fingers until you came all over them, only after you begged for it. And after a little edging for all the teasing.

The question was if he wanted to fuck you with his metal fingers or not.

“Or I’ll cut them off,” he threatened.

You faced him as you played with the band again, his cock ready to burst from his pants when you pulled them down enough to show him your mound. Just as quickly as you pulled them down, you pulled them back up. “Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

“You drive me crazy,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair. His scalp tingled at the thought of you pulling on the long strands. A very good kind of pain.

“And you love me for it,” you smiled.

His gaze momentarily softened. You were the light of his life, always. “I do. Very much,” he swore, brandishing a knife from his pocket and twirling it for you to see. “And maybe I can turn that threat into a promise if you get over here.”

You gasped and he didn’t have to look between your legs to know there was a wet patch on the fabric. “Is this the part where I go ‘is that a knife in your pocket or are you just happy to see me’, Barnes? Or are you planning to stab me with your dick?”

His blue eyes darkened when you took a step closer. As much as he wanted to put you over his knee, he also wanted to lavish your gorgeous breasts with the attention they deserved. “I’m going to destroy all of your holes tonight, and I might just fuck your pussy last,” he said, going in for the kill. “Or maybe I won’t fuck your pussy at all since you’re a fucking tease.”

He wanted to smirk when you narrowed your eyes and took two steps closer. Close enough for him to grab you. “A tease doesn’t back up their words and you know damned well I always-”

Careful not to cut you because he’d never hurt you, he gripped your wrist and chuckled when he yanked you over the armrest. “Follow through. I know, baby. I know.”

He half expected you to squirm or struggle, but you only moaned when brought the blade to your hip. He saw you rub your thighs together. The teasing had worked you up, too. Good. “Are you really going to cut these off?” you pouted.

He sank his teeth into his lip when he read the words along your ass. It would be a shame to destroy them since he was already going to destroy what was underneath. “Maybe, maybe not,” he mused, grazing the blade along your skin to make you shiver. “I’ll think it over while I finish my book.”

You tensed up and slowly turned your head. “You’re still going to finish your book? Are you kidding me?” The fire in your eyes almost made him lose his cool, but he used to be the Winter Soldier. He didn’t break so easily.

“You knew that was my plan today. Not my fault the sight of me gets you hot and bothered,” he smiled, rolling his hips up so you could feel just how hard he was in his pants. To be fair, the sight of you did the same thing to him. “So sit tight, get comfortable, and we’ll see if you can figure out which hole I’m fucking first.”

Because if you got to tease him, he got to tease you, too.

Once again, nothing to see here, lovelies! Go about your business. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[ssa-dado]

Cat Equals Sign Of Integration

Aaron Hotchner x bau!fem!reader Genre: fluff, smut (implied) Summary: Aaron, ever the strategist, decides that a little wine might help soften the blow of figuring out with you how to tell the team you’re dating. A solid plan - except for one tiny flaw: wine makes him a whore. Warnings: +18, MINORS DNI Hotch is a touch starved whore, a few cuss words here and there, wine gets a bit into both of your heads. Word Count: 5k Dado's Corner: Did I hallucinate this while working on one of the many requests still on my to-do list, only to realize halfway through that it was completely derailing from the main plot - but too cute to abandon? Yes. Is this fun? You tell me (pretty please).

masterlist(s)

One of the many rules you and Aaron had in your relationship was that if you cooked for date night, he was the one doing the dishes.

His idea.

You had been opposed to it at first - not because you minded, of course. You were actually a huge fan of grown men handling household chores without whining like toddlers about how it might somehow demasculate their poor, fragile egos.

No, you were opposed because you didn’t want him doing it out of some sense of obligation.

It took you a while to accept that Aaron wasn’t doing this because he owed you - he was doing it because he wanted to.

Because that was just… Aaron.

Ever the caregiver, always looking for ways to make life easier for the people he loved. He could give you the world and still come to you like a wounded dog, begging for forgiveness because he thought he wasn’t enough.

It was infuriating - for all the deep psychological reasons you could analyze for hours, but also for a much pettier one: when it was his turn to cook, instead of letting you do the dishes like the so-called rule dictated, he just… did them anyway.

And thus, the noble Mr. Clean - brave warrior of dish duty, his arms submerged in treacherous, frothy depths - found himself utterly helpless against the sudden, most dreadful buzzing of his phone.

A cruel twist of fate, indeed!

Stranded, defenseless, bound by duty to his porcelain captors, he could do nothing but stand there, a tragic figure of great importance, cruelly denied his right to immediately bestow his undivided attention upon whatever poor soul dared summon him.

Oh, the agony! The injustice! How swiftly the mighty are humbled… by a sink full of bubbles.

That was because, logically, if even a single drop of water touched his phone, he would instantly lose all of the very important, highly classified FBI secrets stored inside. Of course, phones couldn't possibly be waterproof.

Ha, imagine?! What a concept.

“Who is it?” Aaron asked, still scrubbing at your wine glass like he was trying to erase its entire existence.

Which – by the way - was completely pointless, considering that in less than five minutes, he planned on refilling it with some more. A different wine, yes. But for God’s sake, you weren’t going to die if the last few drops of white mixed with the red.

…What a fussy man.

“Penelope,” you replied, admiring the view.

What a view, really. That man was all legs and no ass, and you were finally learning to appreciate it. 

“Ignore it,” he said, not even turning around.

Unfortunately for him - and for the HR department still blissfully unaware that their most serious, by-the-book boss was fraternizing with a subordinate - you were a profiler.

The U.S. government literally paid your bills every single month because you were exceptionally good at reading people.

And the way he answered? Yeah, that wasn’t the tone of a man casually dismissing an unimportant text. No, that was the tone of a man caught red-handed, scrambling for plausible deniability.

Embarrassed. Secretive. Suspicious. Frankly, if you didn’t already know what he was hiding, you’d be halfway to slapping cuffs on him. Wouldn’t even be the first time.

And so you read it – out loud.

Penelope Garcia, 7:56 PM:

hotch sir hotch bossman sir, i am DYING please tell me if you found out who her mystery boyfriend is i am suffering!!!!!!!! i know you know. i know it in my heart. if you can’t say it just give me a hint. a tiny one. a cryptic riddle. a blink. i will take anything.

^.ᆽ.^= ∫

By her, of course, she meant you - because despite a few months of keeping your relationship under wraps, you still hadn’t gotten around to telling the team. Your colleagues. Your friends. Your unwanted, overly nosy adopted children.

That their elusive "mystery boyfriend" was, in fact, your mutual boss.

You were going to tell them. Eventually.

Didn’t know when. But you would.

Then again, it wasn’t like you were surrounded by some of the best profilers in the country, trained to pick up on the slightest behavioral shift.

It’s not like the second two incredibly touch-starved people like you and Aaron started walking around with even a fraction of happiness, that wouldn’t immediately raise suspicions.

…Except, apparently, it hadn’t.

Because somehow, the team had only managed to land on half the conclusion: you were seeing someone.

But Aaron? Not even a blip on their radar.

It was almost impressive, really. The answer was so obvious that they had discarded it entirely, still wandering around in the dark, trying to piece together a puzzle that was sitting right in front of their faces.

Just like Penelope was doing now, so desperate for some reason that she was straight-up asking him outright - when not that long ago, she still thought twice before even making a dirty joke in his presence.

And so, you got up, walked over to Aaron, and held the phone directly under his nose. “What does this mean?”

He squinted at the screen, then at you. “Oh, honey, I don’t know. She always sends me that - I don’t understand what exactly equals the sign of integration”.

…What?

You were suddenly just as confused as he was.

He blinked at you, eyes wide, eyebrows raised in that utterly sincere, slightly bewildered way of his. “That sign before it,” he said, completely lost. “It looks Chinese. Thought you knew Chinese, sweetheart.”

…What?

Oh, for the love of God.

If this man hadn’t already seen the absolute worst horrors the world had to offer, you would fight for his innocence with your nails, your teeth, and - if absolutely necessary - one of the worst shooting records ever logged in the Bureau.

You looked at the screen again.

^.ᆽ.^= ∫

Oh.

Oh, that’s what had confused him.

“Aaron,” you said gently, doing your absolute best not to kiss him right then and there, “that is a cat.”

You sighed, then pointed at the message again. “By the way, the ‘sign’ in the middle is in Korean, not Chinese.”

He looked at the screen again - then back at you. “…Cat equals sign of integration?”

“No, honey,” you said, barely suppressing your smile, tapping the little text emoji. “It’s just a cat.”

He studied it for another second. “Oh.”

There. That did it. You gave in. Leaned in and pressed a loud smooch to his cheek.

At least your dignity was still intact - he had no idea why you’d done it, just assumed it was one of those spontaneous bursts of affection that came with being hopelessly in love.

Honeymoon phase truly did work wonders.

“Do you think I can have the cat too?” he asked, grabbing the bottle of red and a corkscrew.

That was a trap.

Because Aaron Hotchner still signed every single text he sent.

And while it wasn’t an issue when he was sending something standard -

Lawyer, 6:17 PM:

They found a new body, we’re gathering at the precinct in 30.

A.H.

- it became a lot more unsettling when he sent the filthiest, most depraved things you’d ever read, only to end them with that stiff little A.H. like he was dictating official Bureau correspondence.

Lawyer, 11:51 PM:

Sweetheart, if only these stupid walls weren’t so thin, I’d have you right here with me, bent over, face pressed against this mattress, making you come so many times you’d forget your own name. At least three. Maybe four, if I’m feeling generous.

A.H.

So now, standing in his kitchen, watching him pour wine like he hadn’t just permanently scarred you with his painfully bureaucratic approach to sexting, you knew that if you admitted he could simply copy-paste that ‘cat equals integration sign,’ it would only be a matter of time before you were subjected to something truly traumatizing, like -

Lawyer, very-late-office-hour PM:

It’s your fault I’m getting distracted with the paperwork, because I’m still thinking about how good you tasted last night while sitting on my face. God, I can still feel your thighs shaking, you were so sweet for me, honey, so fucking perfect.

P.S. How many reports do you still have left? Because I’ve been thinking about having you on my tongue again before the night is over. I think I’ve got about an hour or so left but then I’m all yours.

^.ᆽ.^= ∫

A.H.

Yeah. No. Absolutely not.

That man could not be trusted with the cat.

“Oh, honey,” you cooed, pressing a soft kiss between his shoulder blades as your fingers brushed over his back. “I don’t think you can get it. She must have programmed it herself into her phone.”

You truly hoped you were as convincing as he was clueless about text etiquette.

“It’s a pity,” he sighed, both of your wine glasses in hand as he made his way to the couch. “I would have loved to send you the cat.”

…Of course he would. Smug ass.

But as the words left his mouth, something shifted in him - just barely. A pause that didn’t usually belong there... weird.

Still, you followed, watching as he settled in, patting the cushion beside him with a half-smile. “Come here, sweetheart.”

A misleading gesture, considering his legs were very much spread - a much clearer invitation. At least, that’s how you chose to interpret it.

Because you could swear - those legs spoke to you. Called to you. So you slid right into your rightful seat - his lap.

…Would have been rude not to answer.

“Back to Garcia,” he said, resting a hand on your thigh as he handed you your painstakingly polished wine glass - so clean, so immaculately spotless, that the red wine inside looked redder than red. A real masterpiece, Mr. Clean. “She doesn’t seem to be letting up about finding out who you’re dating… This is the fourth message this week.”

You raised a brow, taking a sip of your wine. “Well, she’s second only to you when it comes to being nosy about gossip.”

Aaron exhaled, shaking his head, that same small half-smile back on his lips.

That particular smile.

The one he used when he was trying to convince someone he was fine when, in reality, he was not - when he was trying to reassure everyone else while simultaneously refusing to admit, even to himself, that something was eating him alive.

Oh, now you knew what this was about.

He had definitely practiced this conversation in his head - refined it down to the perfect phrasing. Measured. Logical. Reassuring.

A version so well-rehearsed, so carefully constructed, that he’d convinced himself first before trying to convince you - that this didn’t scare him.

That this was just another rational step forward.

That it was fine.

Because if he could make it sound easy, maybe it would be.

Maybe it would give you something solid to lean on, because the last thing he wanted was for you to feel like you were standing on shaky ground with someone just as fractured as he was.

But in the end, even the best-laid words couldn’t withstand the weight of his emotions - whether he liked it or not, even rocks are meant to erode.

“I think it’s time we come clean to the team,” he admitted, completely veering off-script - though, of course, he still made sure to soften the blow with a kiss to your temple.

Not that it made much difference. You both knew this moment was inevitable, but somehow, you’d managed to delude yourselves into thinking that if you just kept putting it off, the perfect time would miraculously appear.

At first, you’d delayed it until things were official.

Then, because you needed to be sure this could work in the long run.

Then, because you wanted time to just enjoy each other.

Truthfully? If it were entirely up to the two of you, you’d probably keep postponing it indefinitely - at least until the day you were both retired, far away from any fraternization rules or painfully awkward team dynamics.

Unless, of course, your eyes had been deceiving you all along, or life decided to be cruel and rip this happiness away from you before you ever even got the chance. All you could do was hope not.

Aaron sighed, watching you carefully. “So, how do you want to do this?”

At least he could take comfort in the fact that his very specific plan of having wine while discussing this was still intact - especially since the very large sip you took the second he asked hadn’t gone unnoticed.

He huffed a laugh.

Yeah.

This was going to be fun.

“Are we sure we have to?” You groaned, tilting your head back against his shoulder.

“I’m afraid so, sweetheart. It’s the only way to keep them from getting the satisfaction of figuring it out first and do this our way…”

It was his turn to take a long sip now… he surely wasn’t thrilled about the lack of an actual game plan.

“…Still need to figure out what exactly we mean by ‘our way,’” he admitted. “But, you know… that’s what these are for.”

He tapped a finger against his temple, then against yours, clearly implying that your very skilled, highly trained profiler brains would surely work this out.

You, however, were placing your bets on your problem-solving skills drastically improving after a few more glasses of wine, because right now?

“We are so fucked,” you commented.

Aaron clinked his glass against yours, deadpan. “Completely.”

You both took long, slow sips of wine like it might somehow provide divine intervention.

It didn’t. You were indeed left pretty much alone in this.

You sighed, setting your glass down on the coffee table. “Well, you definitely have the face of someone who already has a plan...” You reached up, brushing your fingers along his jaw. “...a very handsome face.”

Cheesy. But deserved.

Aaron chuckled. “I believe…” He kissed you on the cheek – twice - before setting his own glass down too. “…We should tell them directly. Get ahead of it. Lay it out as matter-of-factly as possible.”

“Matter-of-factly?”

He nodded, all serious, like he hadn’t just suggested the worst possible approach.

“Sweetheart…” You pinched his cheek, making him scrunch his nose, hoping – more like praying - that it would snap him out of whatever fantasy land of logic, reason, and good intentions he was apparently living in.

“If we tell them directly, Penelope will throw an actual partypersonally design matching t-shirts, and have the entire team wear them.” You paused, leveling him with a look. “And you know it wouldn’t be the first time.”

“I know.”

“Emily and Derek will immediately start making jokes like two middle schoolers who just learned what sex is and will not let us breathe.”

“I know.”

“JJ will be quiet but then ask all of a sudden, ‘So when’s the wedding?’ which will restart the chaos all over again.”

“I know.”

You turned to face him, deadly serious. “Spencer-”

“-Will hit us with a full statistical analysis of workplace relationships,” Aaron finished, exhaling sharply, already bracing himself.

Because there was only one team member left to account for - the worst of them all.

“And… oh God… Dave…”

And with that horrifying realization, he did the only logical thing a man in his position could do - he face-planted directly into your chest with a dramatic, muffled groan of pure defeat.

You blinked down at him, amused. “Honey…”

Why was he even so touch starved like that?

“All I ask,” came his muffled voice, still very much nestled between your breasts, “is five minutes of peace.”

You snorted. “You do realize this isn’t exactly discouraging me from making fun of you, right?”

He sighed again. “You do realize that if you keep laughing, you’re just shoving them further into my face?”

…Damn him and his irritating ability to state the obvious.

You sighed, fingers absentmindedly combing through his short spikes of hair. “…So we’re back to square one.”

Aaron exhaled, still very much face-first in his chosen safe haven. “Unfortunately.”

You hummed, “Okay, hypothetically, if we just… never tell them, how long do you think we could get away with it?”

That was so absurd that it actually made him lift his head. He blinked at you, utterly offended by the suggestion.

“I am not spending the next decade pretending I don’t stare at your ass every time you walk away.”

…Alright. That was definitely the wine talking.

In vino veritas, as the Romans said. Wine makes people say dumb shit: the truth.

“Wow. Didn’t know you were a poet, Hotchner.”

His lips twitched. “Don’t pretend you’re above it, because I catch you every time you drift off during briefings just to stare right at-”

“Alright, alright,” you cut him off, slapping a hand over his mouth before he could fully call you out... he was not happy about it. “We’re both shameless…"

You needed an exit strategy. Fast.

You reached for his wine glass over the coffee table. “Well, at least the bright side of telling them is that we won’t have to schedule our coffee breaks in advance anymore and pretend to look surprised when we see each other.”

And all of that was just for one single moment.

The fleeting brush of fingertips as you handed him the cup you always poured for him.

The way his hand was always warmer than yours, despite the fact that you were the one holding the scalding mug, as if basic thermodynamics simply did not apply to Aaron Hotchner.

And if it was one of those days, sometimes, there’d be a little extra something.

A longer touch.

Eye contact that lingered just a second too long.

A slow sip from his cup while still holding your gaze, and suddenly, it felt indecent - like something you definitely shouldn’t be doing in broad daylight, let alone in a federal building.

And now - here, in the comfort of his apartment, with nothing and no one to stop you - he reached for the wine glass you were offering, except… he wasn’t actually reaching for the glass.

He was just holding your hand.

Aaron chuckled, his thumb tracing lazy circles over your knuckles. “I think we’re holding onto this touch just a little too long,” he murmured, nuzzling into you, his breath warm against your ear. “Might start looking suspicious.”

Didn’t he knew exactly what he was doing.

“Oh, also some-” you started, or at least tried to, because as if everything else wasn’t enough, now he was kissing just behind your ear, his lips just brushing the sensitive skin there, warm, and slow, and wet and… God…

Okay. Okay.

Maybe it was the wine.

Maybe it was the fact that you were always kind of a little bit obsessed with him.

Either way, the result was the same: you really, really wanted him right now.

You sighed, tilting your head to grant him a little more access - but not too much, or you might actually end up using the full length of his three-seater couch instead of stubbornly remaining curled up in the same cramped two-foot space you’d unofficially claimed as your own. Ergo - going horizontal with him instead of just being seated on his lap.

“I thought we were having a serious discussion,” you murmured, though the breathy edge to your voice wasn’t exactly helping your case.

Aaron hummed in response, slowly dragging his lips from behind your ear down along the curve of your jaw, pressing a kiss at the hinge. “We are.” Another kiss. “What were you starting to say, sweetheart?”

And another one.

You tried to think. Really, you did.

But it was getting increasingly difficult with his mouth still very much on your skin, moving towards places that were making it exponentially harder to form coherent thoughts.

You would’ve made a mental note to never wear anything that resembled a tank top around him again, if only you had the actual brain capacity to form any notes right now.

“Aaron-”

Aaron smirked against your skin. “You were saying?”

…Blank. Absolutely blank.

Your brain stalled for a solid three seconds before mercifully rebooting.

“I-” You licked your lips, cleared your throat. “Penelope.”

That, thankfully, was enough of a keyword to get him to back off - though, the second he did, you already desperately missed the warmth of his mouth on your skin.

He tilted his head, “Penelope?”

You swallowed. “She’s… gonna be beaming.”

Aaron blinked at you. “Beaming.”

“Yeah.” You smiled, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek, because God, he was too cute when he was confused like this. “Her and Kevin have been desperate for another couple to go out with. Ever since JJ and Will stopped leaving the house because they’re too busy baby-proofing every square inch of their lives.”

Aaron’s brows furrowed slightly. “And by ‘go out with,’ you mean double dates.”

You hummed, fingers grazing his cheek. “Mmm. Yeah. Double dates.”

Aaron didn’t even hesitate. “Oh, absolutely not.”

You blinked, pulling back slightly. “Wait, what?”

His face was resolute. “I’m not doing double dates.”

You squinted at him. “Okay, but why?”

And that’s how you learned that if there was one thing your boyfriend hated - more than messy paperwork, more than delayed flights, more than the Bureau’s budgeting meetings - it was double dates.

Not specifically with Penelope and Kevin. God, no. He was practically the puppet master of their relationship in the first place. Just… double dates in general.

“They’re impractical,” he said.

You snorted. “What do you mean?”

Aaron sighed. “They are a waste of time. You sit there, and for the first fifteen minutes, it’s fine. The usual small talk, polite conversation…”

You nodded, barely biting back a grin. “That doesn’t sound so bad.”

Honestly, this just sounded like some classic Aaron Hotchner being the most adorable introvert to ever exist.

He shot you a look, deadly serious. “It’s a trap.” You nearly cooed. Adorable. “Because at some point, you end up talking one-on-one with someone from the other couple. And right when the conversation is actually getting interesting-”

He suddenly paused.

His hand started at your shoulder, innocent enough - until it wasn’t, until it drifted lower, fingertips skimming down until they found your thigh, before sliding inward, squeezing your soft flesh there.

“See?” Aaron murmured, voice deceptively casual. “It starts off innocently. A hand on the shoulder…”He angled his fingers just a notch further up your upper thigh. “…Then the thigh. Then-”

He leaned in, kissing you just at the corner of your mouth.

"A little kiss here," he murmured, lips barely brushing your skin.

Then another - softer, lingering just at the very edge of your lips.

"A little peck there."

Okay.

Ahem.

For a man who hated double dates, he was making a very strong case for them.

This was clearly foreplay.

Had to be foreplay.

You chose to interpret it as foreplay.

So, naturally, just as you were about to pull him in properly - to finally taste the wine on his lips – he pulled back.

Mixed signals whore.

“And then,” he continued, and you swore his voice had gotten even lower - sluttier, if you were being honest - "it escalates.”

...Wine-induced yapper. "Because one couple decides a little peck isn’t enough, so they turn and start devouring each other’s faces… in public.”

The wine that was in your system, instead, suggested you should have him biblically, right here, right now, on his couch.

“Care to demonstrate this part too?” You licked your lips, tilting your head.

Aaron sighed “Honey.” You knew you were in trouble the moment he smirked. “You’re demonstrating my point…”

Your stomach dropped.

“…You want more.” Aaron tutted, shaking his head, feigning disappointment. “Of course you want more. A chaste kiss isn’t enough. How could it be, sweetheart?”

Hell yes you wanted more.

Badly.

You might have even nodded without meaning to.

“But imagine if this was happening in public. In front of two other people. What about them?” he murmured, tilting his head, voice dropping into something dark, silky, dangerous. “In front of two other people.”

You swallowed, very much not thinking about them right now.

“Because at that point, they only have two choices: they either sit there - third-wheeling, watching - or…” His hand slid beneath your shirt, fingers splaying wide over your bare waist, gripping, pulling you that much closer. "… they start doing it too."

Your breath hitched. “Aaron-”

"With just a kiss, it creates an environment," he murmured, lips grazing the shell of your ear, "where both couples get competitive. Where they start copying each other - but making it more…"

He dragged his nose along the curve of your jaw, the ghost of his lips tracing just behind it. "Passionate."

A teeth-grazing kiss against your pulse.

A slow drag of his lips down the column of your throat, before he made his way back up, tilting your chin up with his fingers just so, forcing you to look at him.

And God, that look.

"More tongue," he continued, letting you see it first - his own darting out, wetting his lips just before he brushed them over yours.

Not kissing.

Not yet.

“More biting.” Aaron caught your lower lip between his teeth, pulling just enough to confirm what you already knew -

He tasted like red wine.

Rich. Dark. Addictive.

And so did you.

“More touching.” His hand drifted, fingertips just skimming over your ribs, teasing along the underside of your breast - so close, so close, before he let it trail lower again, just as his lips ghosted over your ear.

"More sounds."

You barely bit back the breathy, desperate little moan clawing its way up your throat because -

Aaron shoved you off his lap.

In one fluid motion, he shifted, pressing you back into the couch, caging you in beneath him, his arms bracketing either side of your head.

His knee slotted between your thighs, pressing up just slightly - just enough to make you gasp, make your hips twitch without thinking.

You were pretty sure now that this was, in fact, foreplay.

“At that point,” he murmured, lowering himself, pressing his body against yours, pinning you down with nothing but his weight, “if you’re already getting ideas…”

Aaron rolled his hips against you, his knee shifting just enough to have you sucking in a sharp breath. “…it’s better off just staying home. Because at least then,” he whispered, “we can do this.”

And then he kissed you. Properly.

Deep and hungry, pressing you down into the cushions until you moaned into his mouth, pulling him closer as one of his hands slipped under your shirt.

“You-” you swallowed, trying to find words, but he stole them from you, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your jaw. “You expect me to believe this is why you hate double dates?”

“I expect you to understand,” he murmured against the sensitive skin of your neck, “that if I ever go on one…” he nipped at your pulse, making you gasp. “…I’ll be thinking about this the entire time.”

Then - click.

The sound of the button of your pants being undone, followed shortly by the hiss of your zipper. You felt the warmth of his fingertips slipping beneath the waistband of your pants, resting over your hip bone.

Well, fuck.

“You’ll be sitting across from me,” he continued, voice so unfairly composed, so infuriatingly smooth, “pretending to listen to whatever they’re taking about.”

He tilted his head, kissing along your collarbone, then much lower. You made a mental note to always wear anything resembling a tank top in his presence from now on.

“And the entire time…” his fingers dipped just slightly beneath the elastic of your underwear.

You shuddered. “Aaron.”

He hummed, pleased - so deeply pleased - before finally sliding lower, his fingers finally brushing right where you needed him most.

You whimpered.

“I’ll be remembering,” he murmured, “exactly how you sound right now.”

Your back arched into his touch, fingers digging into his shoulders, nails biting into muscle as his fingers moved.

“And how you look,” he added, his lips brushing the curve of your breast, “when you fall apart for me.”

Your breath hitched-

And then.

Then-

He stopped.

Just - stopped.

His hands left you completely as he leaned back, settling onto his knees above you, looking far too pleased with himself.

You gaped at him, betrayed. “Are you kidding me?”

Aaron just smirked, gaze flicking over you, taking in your flushed cheeks, your uneven breathing, the way your body was still desperately aching for him.

“See?” he shrugged, voice so damn smug. “This is why I hate double dates.”

How funny would it be if these ended up being his last words?

You huffed, adjusting yourself on the couch, crossing your arms like you weren’t still ridiculously turned on and very annoyed about it. “Alright, you know what? Fine. No need to suffer through a double date if we just… conveniently wait to tell the team about us until after JJ and Will start going back out with Penelope and Kevin.”

Aaron smirked.

At least you’d both come to an agreement - the exact same procrastination tactic you’d been using, just with a new and improved excuse attached.

“…Smart girl.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Don’t patronize me.”

“I wouldn’t dare, sweetheart.”

You rolled your eyes, still breathing heavily, still so deeply unsatisfied, as Aaron pressed a kiss to your temple, then stood, stretching his arms.

“I’ll clean the wine glasses,” he mused, already heading toward the kitchen. “And then I’ll be back to you.”

You stared at him.

He paused, glancing at you over his shoulder, smirking.

You huffed, sarcastic, “glad we could work this out.”

You were not glad. Not at all. Especially because not even a full minute later, your phone buzzed with a text.

From him.

From Mr. Clean himself, who was currently just a couple rooms away from you.

Lawyer, 8:43 PM:

Sweetheart, I hope you're ready, because I’m going to spread you out on that couch and fuck you so deep, you’ll still feel me when you sit at your desk tomorrow.

^.ᆽ.^= ∫

A.H.

"Garcia just told me how to get the cat," came his voice from the kitchen - so damn smug you could hear the smirk in it, followed the sound of his footsteps getting closer.

Before you could turn, before you could say anything, he was there - leaning in from behind the couch, arms sliding around you, caging you in, whispering into your ear -

"It was just a simple copy-paste."

taglist: @beata1108 ; @c-losur3 ; @fangirlunknown ; @hayleym1234 ; @justyourusualash ; @khxna ; @kyrathekiller ; @lostinwonderland314 ; @mxblobby ; @oxforce ; @percysley ; @person-005 ; @prettybaby-reid ; @reidfile ; @royalestrellas ; @ssa-callahan ; @softestqueeen ; @theseerbetweenus ; @todorokishoe2

[gf2bellamy]

Hi i was wondering if you could write a fic where bau!reader is cheering spencer on at his baseball game?

softball — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: mention of a guy throwing sort of rude remarks at spence ( just like in the scene ) a/n: i rewatched the scene to write this and omg i forgot how silly it is i love them all so bad theyre literally family ( also i miss blake ) i had so much fun writing this i hope you like it !! <3 ( also i literally know nothing about softball so if anything is wrong i'm vv sorry </3 )

The warm afternoon sun bathed the softball field in golden light. You walked beside the bleachers, your sneakers crunching against the gravel path, with JJ at your side. Her son Henry skipped ahead, his tiny hand clutching hers, his excitement obvious as he pointed at the players warming up on the field.

Ahead, Spencer stood by the chain- link fence, deep in conversation with Derek, who was already dressed in his baseball uniform, adjusting his grip on his glove.

Spencer, in contrast, looked hesitant and nervous.

His eyes darted toward the field, where players were tossing balls and stretching, and you could see the uncertainty written all over his face.

“Hey!” JJ called, drawing their attention. 

Spencer turned, his brows furrowing slightly before his expression shifted into surprise. Practically the entire BAU team was gathered behind you—Hotch, Rossi, Garcia, Alex and even little Jack standing beside Henry. 

“What are you all doing here?” Spencer asked, his voice laced with disbelief. His eyes flickered over each of you.

You stepped forward, grinning up at him as you held out a black cap. “Came to support you, of course.” 

He turned it over in his hands, examining it, before slowly placing it on his head. The cap sat awkwardly over his curls at first, but he adjusted it carefully, pulling it down until it fit snugly.

“There,” you said, tilting your head as you studied him, a playful smile tugging at your lips. “Now you look the part.”

Spencer huffed out a small, amused breath but didn’t argue. 

Ten minutes later, the game was in full swing. Derek was already at bat, sending the ball flying across the field with a powerful hit. The crowd erupted in cheers as he sprinted toward first base.

You clapped from your seat on the bleachers, sharing an excited glance with JJ. 

You watched as he stepped up to the plate, his movements hesitant as he selected a bat from the rack. He gripped it tightly, his knuckles whitening as he took his position. His stance was awkward, his feet too close together, and he shifted his weight nervously from one foot to the other.

Just before the pitcher threw the ball, Spencer turned his head, searching for something—someone. 

His eyes found you. 

You gave him an encouraging look, your lips curving into a soft, reassuring smile as you nodded.

Spencer swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he tightened his grip on the bat. He squared his shoulders as he turned back toward the pitcher.

The opposing player wound up and threw the ball.

Spencer swung—and missed. 

You bit your lip, fingers curling around the edge of the bleacher.

It was okay. He just needed to get a feel for it. 

The second pitch came. Spencer adjusted his grip, focused his gaze, and swung. 

Missed again. 

The sound of the bat slicing through empty air was met with a few sympathetic murmurs from the crowd.

You exhaled softly through your nose, feeling a twinge of nervousness for him. You could see the frustration creeping into his posture, the way his shoulders tensed and his jaw tightened.

Rossi, stood up from the bleachers as he clapped his hands together. “It’s all right, kid. You got this. Just keep your eye on the ball.” 

Spencer rolled his shoulders before repositioning himself. The third pitch came. He swung—and missed once more. 

A sharp whistle blew, signaling the end of his turn. Spencer sighed, pushing his hair back under the cap as he stepped away from the plate. 

Time passed, and the game continued. The team erupted in cheers when Derek hit a line drive into the outfield, sprinting around the bases with that signature confidence of his.

You clapped along with everyone else, letting out a light laugh when he slid into home base, grinning like he owned the field. 

Your attention drifted back to Spencer. He stood off to the side, a bat in his hand, tossing it lightly into the air as if trying to distract himself.

Except, instead of landing smoothly in his grip, it fumbled and hit the dirt with a dull thud.

You had to bite your cheek to suppress a laugh, not wanting to embarrass him further. He bent down quickly, picking it up like nothing had happened, his cheeks tinged with pink as he went back into position.

You couldn’t help but smile at the sight. There was something so endearing about Spencer Reid—genius, FBI profiler, and yet utterly out of his element on a softball field.

You stood up from the bleachers, brushing off your jeans as you made your way over to the chain-link fence that separated the stands from the field. Leaning against it, you called out to him, your voice light and teasing.

“Need a hand with that bat, or are you just practicing your juggling skills?”

Spencer’s head snapped up, his eyes widening slightly as he realized you were watching him. He straightened, brushing a stray curl out of his face as he walked closer to the fence, the bat dangling loosely in his hand.

“I, uh, didn’t realize anyone was paying attention,” he admitted, his voice tinged with embarrassment.

“Oh, I’m paying attention,” you said with a grin, resting your arms on the top of the fence. “And I have to say, your juggling could use a little work. Maybe stick to profiling for now.”

He let out a small, self-conscious laugh, his gaze dropping to the ground for a moment before meeting yours again. “I’m not exactly cut out for this,” he said, gesturing vaguely to the field. “I mean, I can calculate the trajectory of a ball in my head, but actually hitting it? That’s a whole different story.”

You tilted your head, your smile softening. “Hey, you’re doing better than you think. It’s just a game, Spencer.”

He glanced over at Derek, who was currently showing off with a series of exaggerated practice swings, much to the amusement of the rest of the team. “Yeah, well, Morgan makes it look easy,” Spencer muttered.

“Derek’s had years of practice,” you pointed out. “You’re just starting. Cut yourself some slack.”

Spencer sighed, leaning against the fence on his side so that you were face to face, only the metal links separating you.

Your heart softened. “You don’t have to be good at everything, Spencer. It'’s okay to just have fun.”

He looked at you for a long moment, his brown eyes searching yours as if trying to find some kind of reassurance. Finally, he nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Fun, huh? I guess I can try that.”

“That’s the spirit,” you said, reaching through the fence to give his arm a playful nudge. “And hey, if nothing else, you’ve got the best cheering section here. We’re all rooting for you.”

Spencer’s smile widened, and for the first time since the game started, he looked genuinely relaxed. “Thanks,” he said, his voice warm. “That… means a lot.”

Just then, Derek’s voice boomed across the field. “Reid! You’re up again! Stop flirting and get over here!”

Spencer’s cheeks flushed a deeper shade of pink, and he quickly straightened, adjusting his cap. “I, uh, should probably go,” he said, glancing back at you.

You laughed, waving him off. “Go on. Show them what you’ve got.”

Smiling you went back to your seat. When he stepped up to bat, he glanced over at you one more time, and you gave him an exaggerated thumbs-up, earning a small chuckle from him.

JJ, Penelope, and Alex all exchanged knowing glances. 

When Spencer turned his back to get into position, you caught them looking and furrowed your brows. “What?” 

JJ smirked, leaning in slightly. “Oh, nothing.” 

“Absolutely nothing at all,” Penelope added, eyes twinkling. 

Alex just shook her head, biting back a small, amused smile. 

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth blooming in your chest was undeniable. 

And when Spencer stepped up to bat once more, he stole one last glance at you before squaring his stance. His eyes lingered for just a moment, and you could see the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

But then, from the opposing team’s dugout, someone called out, “This guy can’t hit.”

You frowned, your expression twisting in annoyance.

That was unnecessary.

Apparently, you weren’t the only one who noticed. 

Derek, standing near home plate, lifted a hand and called for a time-out. He turned on his heel and strode toward Spencer, clapping a hand on his shoulder as he leaned in to say something. 

You let out a small breath of relief. 

Rossi, seated just below you on the bleachers, leaned back slightly and smirked. “Shoot him another one of your good luck smiles. Maybe he won’t miss this time.” 

Your eyes narrowed, heat creeping up your neck. “Funny,” you muttered, crossing your arms in an attempt to keep yourself composed. 

Rossi chuckled, clearly enjoying himself, and the rest of the team exchanged knowing glances. 

Derek finally walked back to his position, and Spencer turned around once more—his eyes searching for you almost instinctively. You met his gaze, and despite the slight nervousness still lingering in his stance, you smiled at him, giving him an encouraging nod. 

“There you go,” Rossi muttered under his breath, and you shot him a glare, though it held no real heat. 

You ignored him, keeping your eyes on Spencer as he adjusted his grip on the bat, exhaled, and squared his stance once more. 

The pitcher wound up. 

The ball came flying toward him. 

Spencer swung. 

And missed. 

You bit your lip, fingers curling slightly as you watched him adjust.

The second pitch came. 

Another miss. 

You swallowed hard. You could tell he was getting in his own head. 

And then, just as the pitcher lined up for the third throw, that same player from earlier muttered loud enough for everyone to hear, “This guy’s got nothing.” 

Your head snapped toward him, irritation bubbling up in your chest. Oh, shut up, you thought, resisting the urge to march over there yourself. You shot the player a glare, but he didn’t seem to notice—or care.

Then, the third pitch came. 

For a split second, time seemed to slow. 

Spencer swung— 

Crack! 

The unmistakable sound of the bat making solid contact echoed across the field. 

The ball shot into the air, soaring far past the infield. 

For a second, Spencer just stood there, wide-eyed, almost as if he couldn’t believe it himself. He blinked at the bat in his hands, then at the ball still sailing through the air, as if trying to process what had just happened.

He didn’t move an inch. 

“Spencer, run!” 

Everyone was shouting now—Derek, Rossi, JJ, Penelope,Alex even Hotch. But it was your voice that seemed to snap him out of it. His head jerked in your direction, and when he saw you standing, hands cupped around your mouth as you cheered, something seemed to click. 

He ran. 

Derek was smacking his hands against his knees. “C’mon, kid, move it!” 

Spencer rounded first, then second. The outfielders were still scrambling to recover, and the team’s cheers only grew louder. 

By the time he made it to third, you could see the determination set on his face. His cap had slipped slightly, his curls bouncing with every stride, and his cheeks were flushed from the effort.

“Go, Spencer!” you yelled, clapping wildly. 

The second the opposing team threw the ball toward home plate, Spencer took one final, desperate sprint— 

And then slid. 

It wasn’t the smoothest slide, and judging by the way he grimaced as he skidded across the dirt, it definitely wasn’t something he had ever practiced before. But when the referee threw his arms out and called, “Safe!” the entire BAU team erupted. 

Derek was the first to reach him, pulling Spencer to his feet and clapping him on the back so hard it nearly knocked the wind out of him. “That’s what I’m talking about, kid!” he shouted, his grin wide and proud.

JJ and Penelope were cheering loudly, their voices carrying across the field, while Rossi let out a low whistle, clearly impressed. Even Hotch, who was usually so stoic, was cheering.

But your eyes were on Spencer. He was breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling as he tried to catch his breath, but there was a look of pure triumph on his face.

His cap was crooked, his shirt was covered in dirt, and his hair was a complete mess, but he looked happier than you’d seen him in a long time.

When his eyes found yours, he smiled—a real, genuine smile that lit up his entire face. You grinned back at him, giving him a thumbs-up, and he shook his head, laughing softly as he adjusted his cap.

After a few moments, as the team’s cheers began to subside, Spencer finally managed to wiggle free from Derek’s grip, stepping away from the celebratory pit.

His teammates continued to pat him on the back, offering congratulations and words of encouragement, but Spencer’s attention was already drifting.

His eyes scanned the crowd, searching for you.

When he finally spotted you, his expression softened, and a small, almost shy smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

You walked up to him, your smile growing wider with every step.

Spencer was still slightly breathless, his chest rising and falling with adrenaline , but all he could focus on was you.

The noise of the cheering team, the occasional slap on his back from his teammates—it all faded into the background the moment your arms wrapped around his neck. 

His fingers instinctively tightened around your waist, his grip warm.

“You did great,” you said, your voice full of excitement, as you pulled back slightly, your smile so wide it felt like it could light up the entire field. 

Spencer’s lips parted slightly, his mind struggling to catch up with what was happening. You were so close.

He could see the way your cheeks were slightly flushed—whether from the excitement of the game or something else, he wasn’t sure. 

“Yeah?” he asked, his voice quieter now.

You nodded, smiling brightly. “Yeah.” 

His heart stuttered at the confirmation, at the way you were looking at him like he had genuinely impressed you.

It wasn’t often that Spencer Reid felt cool, but right now, standing here with you, he kind of did. 

The way you were looking at him, your arms still loosely draped around his neck, made him feel like he’d just accomplished something extraordinary—even if it was just a lucky hit in a casual softball game.

“See, pretty boy? Told you you had it in you,” Derek called, clapping him on the shoulder as he walked past, effectively snapping Spencer out of his daze. 

You giggled, finally stepping back, though Spencer hesitated before letting you go.

Garcia practically skipped over, phone in hand. “Oh, don’t mind me, just capturing all these adorable moments,” she teased, wiggling her fingers at her screen. 

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the warmth creeping up your neck. “Garcia…” 

“What? This is gold,” she argued, waving her phone. “The genius hits a home run, and his biggest fan is the first one to congratulate him? I live for this.” 

Spencer, still trying to recover from all of this, rubbed the back of his neck, cheeks burning.

You reached up, gently adjusting his cap.

Your fingers brushed against his forehead, and for a moment, Spencer froze, his breath catching as he looked down at you.

“There,” you said softly, smoothing the brim of the cap. “Now you look like a proper MVP.”

Spencer’s lips parted, but no words came out. He just stared at you, his mind racing as he tried to process the way your touch made him feel.

Rossi, who had been watching from the bleachers with an amused smirk, leaned toward Hotch and muttered, “I give it two months.”

Hotch merely sighed, shaking his head. “They’ll be the last to realize it.”

[cheyisagirlkisser]

⃠ CYBER SEX. (SEVIKA + VI + READER ) ⃠

➤┆pairing: sevika + vi + fem reader

↻┆word count: 3k

⚠︎┆warnings: dom! sevika + switch vi + sub! reader, sevika guides you and vi through phone sex, degrading names (whore, slut) and nicknames (angel, good girl, Sevika is called 'Vika once), teasing, fingering + clit stim + strap-on sex (r! receiving), slight pain kink, mentions of vi receiving from sevika, threats of punishment from sevika, mentions of sexism from sevika's male coworkers (she's in construction).

Description: Sevika is the main breadwinner in you, her, and Vi's. She makes a lot of money, but is also often busier than the both of you. The week-long business trips are something she doesn't look forward to-being away from her girls for days to weeks at a time. You and Vi decide to make matters worse for her when you get feel neglected on a call that was supposed to relax your exhausted girlfriend.

You'd think after countless business trips away from home that Sevika would be used to the separation, but no. She misses you and Vi more than anything. She finds a stupid grin forming on her face when she imagines the both of you on the couch, probably watching something she would make fun of and eating junk food. She keeps telling herself she only has two days left to go. Then, it's the four hour road trip until she can finally give her girlfriends some attention.

Sevika's longing is loving. It's soft and sweet, though anyone else would find that to be rare from her. You and Vi just bring out that ooey-gooey part of her heart out. With that lead to sweeter-than-chocolate kisses and late nights that she knows she shouldn't be awake for, having to wake up at 5 in the morning, but ends up between the two of you anyway.

Her current mood is anything but horny. She is tired after a long day of construction work and being around dickhead coworkers, and she could use a shower to wash off the sweat from her body. Sex isn't exactly the priority in her mind.

Still, she imagines that it'll be like to return home. You and Vi must be so needy. You always are after a week without Sevika. The routine is all the same—walk through the door, take a quick shower, and fuck the brains out of you two.

You're a bottom through and through. You couldn't top even if someone was pointing a gun to your head. Vi, on the contrary, has no reason to. She could if she was in the particular mood for it, but why would she? Sevika takes care of both of you best. She knows that you love being held down and fucked, how you like Vi's thumb on your clit adding onto the pleasure. Sevika knows that Vi likes it more complicated. Vi likes to pretend like she isn't as flustered as she truly is when Sevika has her legs open and her pussy on display, but the girl can get even wetter than you can at times. Everything is in routine, and that is just how Sevika likes it.

Sitting in her hotel room, Sevika waits impatiently for the call. Earlier, Vi sent a dry text requesting a facetime. That didn't raise any suspicions in her head. Almost every time Sevika leaves for a trip, either you or Vi send something asking when she is available. It makes her heart jump to think of her girls being without her. She wonders how Vi fares without someone to tell her not to punch a hole in the wall, and instead use the punching bag Sevika spent a ridiculous amount of money on. She wonders how you fare without the constant reassurance. You're on the overthinking side, and Sevika has probably said enough to put into a book. She doesn't mind it one bit, though.

This time, Sevika feels extra excited to talk. She just wants to kick her boots off, see you and Vi's faces, and forget about having two more days of hard labor.

She wants a distraction.

You and Vi have been dying without Sevika.

Usually, the days go by fast. You're both able to wait for Sevika's touch. You don't have to think too much about the way her fingers would feel in you, and Vi doesn't have to fuck herself on the dildo attached to Sevika's strap to manage. Today, however, both of you seemed to break.

It started with Vi.

(EARLIER..)

"She wouldn't know if we did it. How would she?" Vi inquires, leaning in. Her hand that has been teasingly rubbing your thigh for the past 30 minutes is creeping upward. Her voice is quiet, as if Sevika is able to hear her from countless miles away.

"C'mon, Vi.." You shoo her away, moving her hand back down to safe territory. "We can wait two days. Plus, I think it's only you that's all horny. I've been doing fine."

Vi snorts at that. "Are you fucking kidding me? Babe, you've been all over me all day."

"Okay!? What does that have to do with being pent-up?" You scoff at her, punishing her by breaking eye contact. Your gaze falls back onto the tv in front of you.

Vi doesn't scooch away to her personal space. Instead, she leans in. Her breath tickles your ear, making you swallow back your guilt because fuck, just her proximity is making you wet.

"What do you mean, 'what does that have to do with being pent-up'? You're basically begging to be fucked. All the hugs and kisses..the way you've guided my hands to your waist each morning when we wake up.." Vi tests you by inching her hand back up, just enough to make your breath hitch.

You turn to face her, and that is when Vi knows she has you. You're like a fish she can just reel in. Your bait runs cheap, too. "But, Vi..I don't wanna keep anything from Sevika. We would be fucked if she found out." And no, not in a good way..

The smile that spreads across Vi's face scares you. She has something going on in her head—it's that same face she makes before she goes Christmas shopping, the same glint in her eyes that sparkles on April Fool's day.

She cups your face to hold eye contact, and then she leans in until your lips are nearly touching. Your most pathetic but natural instinct is to squeeze your thighs together.

"Then let's make sure she knows what we're going to do tonight."

When Sevika answers the call, she is greeted with the familiar sight of you and Vi on your shared bed.

She can immediately tell that Vi is using her laptop to call because the quality is slightly better, and she can see both of your bodies instead of just faces. Vi usually never uses the laptop for calls unless it's for a specific reason, but she doesn't question it tonight. She just wants to see her girls.

You're seated comfortably in Vi's lap, where it isn't exactly rare for you to sit. Still, something feels different about the view. You don't have the same excited expression. You look nervous, as if you have something to hide from Sevika. Perhaps if Sevika wasn't so exhausted from the job today, she'd notice the scheming written all over Vi's face.

"Hi, baby. Hi, Vi." She greets you both, her voice thick with a fatigued rasp.

"Hi, 'Vika!" You smile at her, making her heart melt slightly. All feels right when she can talk to the both of you.

"Any sexist comments today?" Vi asks her.

Sevika scoffs. "Wouldn't be a normal day without one."

Conversation is normal and comforting for Sevika. It always is.

You tend to remind Sevika how much you miss her when you talk. You ask her if she misses you, if she's tried the cookies you baked for her trip, if she has been thinking about you. Vi asks the work related questions. The sexism question is always a go-to.

"Of course. What was it this time, something about how your coworker's wife just stays in the kitchen and you should, too?"

Sevika shakes her head. "Nah, not today. That was last month's. It was this guy, really short and ginger. Overheard him talking shit about women with muscles on them. I guess he didn't want me to hear, 'cause he looked all pale and skittish. Super fuckin' quiet. I could hear the dumbass, though."

Sevika goes on about her day to Vi, and Vi visibly nods along. She doesn't seem to pay too much attention to it at first, but as she complains about her coworker Ricky not knowing how to read a blueprint, she sees Vi's hand almost fully between your legs. In those pajama shorts you're wearing, it leaves nothing to the imagination. She can see the way Vi's hand almost slips inside them from the bottom, rubbing teasing circles on the inside of your thigh.

"You're pretty handsy, don't you think?" Sevika snorts, not thinking much of it.

Vi's answer catches her surprised, "well, this thing has been begging for it all week."

Sevika's eyes narrow and her face heats up, but you seem caught off-guard by Vi's words as well. You don't comment on them, though. You don't make a move to pull away from her embrace. In fact, Sevika can now point out the way you almost instinctively move to shut your legs around vi's hand. Vi will tap your leg and you quickly open back up to Sevika's view.

Sevika sighs, brushing it off. "Anyways, just wanted to say I missed you both. It's been a long fuckin' week. I was planning on going to bed soon, but-"

You let out a short, but noticeable moan when Vi's fingers circle your clit through your shorts.

"Alright, what the fuck is going on with you two?" Sevika demands, annoyance clear in her voice. But behind it, you can hear some ounce of arousal.

"I told you. This slut's been all over me, Sev." Vi simply states, not giving away any future plans. She doesn't stop with her ministrations, and Sevika has to helplessly watch as you needily writhe under Vi's touch. Three hands firmly rub your clothed pussy, and all you can do is whine and whisper in Vi's ear for more, too scared to speak up loud enough for Sevika to hear and have a reason to bend you over her knee when she gets home. Sevika notices, though.

"Are you seriously about to fuck her on camera? I'm not messing around, Vi. Cut the shit, or I'll make you regret it the moment I step through the door." Sevika growls.

"What's wrong with me taking care of her? She needs me, Sevika. Look at her. I gotta give her what she wants before she's your problem on Friday." Vi abruptly peels your pajama pants off of your body. Even in the slightly grainy video, Sevika can see the wet patch on your panties. You already know you'll still be Sevika's problem when she gets back home, but you don't care. You want to get fucked now, and Vi's touch leaves you a bit forgetful when it comes to the potential consequences of this.

Now, Sevika is pissed. She is both pissed off that she has to deal with you and Vi's bullshit, but she is also turned on. That makes matters worse. She wants to say fuck it and just let herself enjoy the show, but if she does, she'll have bigger problems to worry about.

Since you, Vi, and Sevika have established the sexual dynamic of your relationship, Sevika has had a reasonable amount of control over you and Vi. She has dished out her fair share of consequences when either of you acted up, and eventually, there was a clear dynamic. You've always been Sevika's angel: listening to everything she says, laying down and taking it like a good girl, not complaining when you don't get fucked or when Sevika is in the mood to tease.

Vi has always been on the brattier side. She likes to complain. She enjoys testing how much is too much, but even this situation is shocking to Sevika. She'll have to spend hours putting the two of you back into place when she comes home instead of fucking you and falling asleep with you in her arms and Vi on her side. But maybe that is exactly what the both of you need.

"Go right ahead and fuck her, Vi." Sevika says, finally causing a stop in Vi's movements. You whine in protest, but neither Sevika or Vi pay any mind to it.

"Seriously? You're okay with it?"

Sevika shrugs, adjusting on the bed. "Just know that there will be consequences. I'm too tired to threaten you now, Vi."

That should scare Vi. She knows that Sevika is tired, and that is where the sudden leniency comes from. If anything, Vi should take that as a sign to just call it a night.

Instead, she chooses wrong.

"That feel good, baby?" Vi coos, two fingers pumping in your wetness. There's a strap-on adjusted around her hips that wasn't there earlier, and Sevika is mostly silent as she takes in the view. You let out a whorish sound, and Vi laughs down at you. "Yeah, I know. It's exactly what your needy little cunt needs."

"No more teasing, please." You try to clutch Vis' wrist and pull her hand away from your dripping cunt, but her playfully smacks your hand away. "Just fuck me!" You whine.

"Jesus christ," comes an exasperated sigh from Sevika. Watching the scene in front of her, she pretends like it doesn't make her just as wet as your leaking pussy. She has to keep some level of control.

"Are you hearing this, Sevika?" Vi refers to the embarrassingly loud squelching noise coming from between your legs. Vi's fingers don't let up, though. She likes listening to the wetness and feeling your clit twitch underneath her thumb.

"I think the neighbors can hear it."

You moan at the sound of Sevika's voice. It sends a lightning bolt to Sevika's poor cunt, but she won't give you the benefit of the doubt of masturbating to the scene in front of her. No, she'll wait until after the call to get herself off in the hotel shower..

"You heard her, Vi. Fuck her." Sevika orders. Vi rolls her eyes, but relents in her teasing torture.

Vi's fingers slide out of you, and she pulls your now naked body down onto the bed to lay on your back. The mushroom head of Vi's (Sevika's) strap teases your glistening folds and you try your best to move your hips up enough to slip it inside of you, but one of Vi's hands pins you down on the bed.

"Beg Sevika." Vi demands, grinning above you.

Your face turns towards the laptop on the edge of the bed, and you can't help but moan when you feel the silicone tap your swollen clit.

"Please, Sevika. Please tell Vi to put it in me." You beg.

"Will you be a good girl for her?" Sevika asks you, and it takes everything in her not to rush out of the hotel and into her car to fuck you herself.

"Yes! Fuck, I promise, Sevika. I'll be a good girl for you, too."

I'll be a good girl for you, too.

The sentence echoes in her head. You don't see this as only a you and Vi thing. The thought of you wanting to please Sevika too has her hot and weak.

"Fuck my good girl, Vi."

The toy slides in you with ease, no lube necessary. Vi groans above you as she pushes her hips forward, slowly sinking further into your pussy. She feels like a starved woman after not fucking a girl for so long. Sevika takes great care of her needs, but she can't deny that this situation has been a fantasy for her for a long time.

"Fuck, you take this cock so well. Your pussy needed me. Needed to be fucked like a whore." Vi grits through her teeth, beginning to fuck you at a steady pace. Her hips snap forward and pull back, only to slam back into your greedy hole.

You only answer her in a series of broken moans. Sevika watches the way your tits jiggle with each thrust, and she imagines her own hands groping them or her tongue swirling over your nipples while Vi fucks you.

"Give her tits a small smack. She likes that."

Before you can process the instruction, Vi's hand lands a slap on one of your tits. You gasp, peeking down at the now reddened skin. She doesn't do it again until Sevika encourages. "There you go. Do it again, the slut likes it when you give her some pain."

Vi alternates between your tits, shooting delicious bolts of paint throughout your breasts as she fucks you. Her thrusts grow more erratic and deep. Her hips meet the back of your thighs each time they move forward, and you can feel the curve of the toy brush against your g-spot while the tip kisses your cervix. This is what you were neglected of.

"She looks like she's about to cum, Vi. Give it to her nice and deep. She likes it that way, that's how I always get her to cum hard." Sevika says, and Vi fixes up her pace, nearly slamming into you each thrust until your bodies become flush when they meet.

"Vi!! Oh my fucking god-" you moan, your orgasm washing over you. Vi fucks you through it, and Sevika stays quiet as she admires the show. You writhe underneath Vi, pawing at her back and mindlessly begging for more cunt-numbing treatment. She gives it to you until the overstimulation kicks in and you beg otherwise.

Vi, now a breathless, crazy-haired mess, collapses onto you. She buries her face into your warm neck and hugs you tight, particularly clingy after sex. You feel calmed down (and satiated) now that you just feel the sweet Vi that you know and love. Her chest presses against you, but the intimacy that comes from it is more soft and gentle than anything sexual.

"You okay?" Sevika asks the both of you. Vi gives a weak thumbs-up, and you nod. When Sevika is assured that both of you are okay, she lets out a slightly scary laugh. At least, you think it's a laugh.

"Both of you are so fucked when I come home."

taglist: @waitaminuteashh, @witzs, @bewareofmyglock, @ruelezz

[wishyoudwell]

Linked Universe Band AU - “DownFall”

Featuring:

Legend on Guitar

Ravio on Bass

Wild on Drums

Hyrule on Vocals

Four on Keyboard

-

First Band AU post… proper, at least. It’s just supposed to be a little intro…? To the first band: “DownFall”! They’re young men with a special sound, capturing the worries and the woes of many teens alike…their mascot is a little bunny and their merch and look is a bit on the edgy side.

They’re all still named Link, so they use their stage names as nicknames (with the exception of Ravio.)

I guess this could also somewhat count as a modern AU since this takes place in modern times.

Very special thanks to //entouragelvr75 for giving me a lot of ideas for the AU!! It’s been so fun

[zimmbzon]

I was in this job where there were lots of employees from different departments all sharing one big open plan office with a hot-desking situation. Well I struck up a friendship with Peter from Finance (full name: Peter from Finance but not actually an Accountant). We never worked together but we liked sitting next to each other. Peter from Finance was maybe 30 years older than me, had a very impressive broom moustache and always dressed in a professional button up shirt and trousers. He was also very quiet, polite, and quite shy and reserved. I am, on the other hand, one of those I-bring-the-fun kind of adhders. I have tattoos and wore jeans, a t-shirt and sneakers everyday.

We bonded over how annoyingly noisy some of the other department’s employees were and that Peter from Finance had definitely been to prison (he hadn’t) and that he had learnt to make shivs from toothbrushes whilst in prison (where’d he never been) and that if this particularly noisy department didn’t quiet their mouths soon he was going to show them all the other things he had learnt is prison (again this man had never seen the inside of a jail cell). Basically all of our conversations where absolute nonsense and lies generally instigated by him (but no one ever believed that).

Well my boy Peter from Finance had never had a bubble tea, so I explained the concept to him and promised to bring him one at 1pm sharp. I delivered the bubble tea to his desk but he was not there and I had to jump into a meeting myself.

I wrote a little post it note and left it beside the cup and straw with the instructions: “stab the bear in the face!”

I poked my head out of the meeting just in time to see Peter from Finance holding the cup in one hand and the straw in the other, contemplating the violence he was being asked to commit. He looked up at me, I solemnly nodded, his face changed from that of a confused questioning look to one determination (and a little bit of defiance) and he stabbed that mother fucker hard in the face!

We went out for bubble tea together shortly before I left the job (a big deal for our socially anxious lunchtime loner boy) and got double serves of bobas. We planned on getting actual lunch as well but Peter from Finance discovered with both delight and shock that after eating that many bobas he didn’t need lunch!

On my last day I discovered that his government name was also a lie because the damn man was and always had been a full certified actual accountant, but had for well over a year been letting me call him “Peter from Finance but not actually an Accountant”.!

I did at least do him a solid and change his documentation to “Peter from Finance but not actually an Accountant but ACTUALLY an Accountant” before I left.

i was drafting a post that said “a single boba tea can replace up to two meals if you are pure of heart” and the reason i didn’t post it is because as i was typing those words i got so dizzy i felt like i was being abducted by aliens

[anantaru]

⚝ DAY 7 — MONSTERFUCKING/DRAGONCOCK

kinktober 2024. — masterlist | ao3

— including. — zhongli, neuvillette, capitano, childe

— warnings. — fem! reader, monsterfcking, size kink/size difference, oral (fem! receiving)

⚝ — ZHONGLI + dragon

across minds, there were scents of dust and gentle perfumes clashing together, with rough slaps and feisty grabs of flesh against zhongli's muscular hands as it only showed a fraction of what was going on between you two.

can you still call it love making though? be honest now, was it really something you'd consider to use the word love for?

because this, uh fuck, this was so much more fun and unrestrained, though you can barely feel yourself anymore despite really trying your best after round two, yet the man just didn't run out of stamina, even if he tried. his body was glowing, majestic and the connection he had to your body was profound— the flow of his hips moving through time and space, your body shivering and giving way to be held up by his bare arms and his pressure against you.

zhongli wanted this really badly, you know? he's been thinking about fucking your pretty pussy all day long that he even thought about fucking his hand for a little, however, while imagining it being your soft, wet cunt instead— well, you gotta understand him, okay? how dare you be so freaking busy all day, running around looking this fucking hot, no wonder his cock was fully meeting your insides now, moving almost in a dance as his tongue writhes with yours so tightly to his length fiecerly battering your walls.

a sense of overwhelming nakedness and lewdness cradle your skull as his expanded cock hits places within you, previously unknown, untouched yet now— he maked them his own, scraping across the skin, conquering, pounding you as the feeling of fullness brought pure elation to your soul.

⚝ — NEUVILLETTE + dragon

neuvillette's unparalleled beauty wasn't fully without warning, because he was a living embodiment of the sea's power— and wow, how he looks at you, touches and licks between your folds with his slicked tongue, truly outstanding.

it's long, flowing, as if he's motioning a deep wave of lust which resembled cascading waves, rippling with every subtle movement as you hump and smear your cunt across his lips, and his sharp, sharp yet graceful features— oh dear, you're in for it now, aren't you? not only that but they radiated an ethereal glow.

you feel yourself lusting for more of him, his erection to ram and destroy you, yet his monstrous tongue already felt as if it was too much— his wet muscle judging all with traces and filthy flicks that held the weight of oceans and storms against your skin and bones.

His presence was awe-inspiring, the air around your bodies seemingly shimmering of pheromones and sweat as if it couldn't quite contain the sheer majesty of his being. you let out a gasp upon holding his hair within your palm, yet you squirm again, all sprouting from a long, thick tongue grazing at your binding taste.

"oh, please, you’re right there," you whine, scream and cry, desperately bucking your hips against his tentacle like tongue, the pressure of his muscle still as insistent as ever. neuvillette continued to explore you with a reddened face, his usual stoic facade gone without a trace.

⚝ — CAPITANO + big monster

a big, scary monster, hm? you're so scared of capitano, yeah? oh no, don't be shy in admitting that you loved seeing him in this form, all scars on full display with your legs parted and waiting, pussy drenched in your juices and aching, yeah, aching to be fucked desperately until you cum all over him like the sweet n cute darling which you were to the harbinger.

he loved how you seemed so, hm, innocent in comparison to him which, well, wasn't that difficult to begin with, yet capitano went off on it— not only that but how you knew he was the strongest and that he was able to protect you from everything and anything, while also fucking your literal brains out every single night.

he fears any part of his cock leaving you, your warm, soft pussy and how well you fit around him.

you also try so hard all the time, attempting to fit all the inches at once while knowing fucking well you require some foreplay before he could even attempt to sink his tip inside. archons, you're close now, he can feel you shivering around his shaft, body quivering now with cold sweat, electric tingles on the insides of your thighs and too many sensations that you've ended up giving yourself to him entirely.

⚝ — CHILDE + foul legacy

childe flutters his gaze apart with his crimson eyes blazing with an intensity that matched the ferocity of his attacks in combat, the force of his hips not to be reckoned with as it resembled his fighting style— wild and unpredictable as your body was covered in thick waves of his cum, yet you didn’t want him to stop, and childe wouldn't want to reject anything his darling wanted, correct? you allowed him to fuck you harder, make it seen all over your face and neck and tits, your thumping chest and your shattering thighs grasping for tension.

it was an unbelievable sensation, without comparison, otherworldly and slimy and wet, but at the same time soft and gentle and comforting like he's wanting to make sure you remember he wouldn't hurt you, ever, not even with the sheer size in his pants.

the chaos he embraced in the bedroom left you out of breath with a staggering motion between your thighs as childe burned brightly, his big, strong arms holding you close with a passion that extended beyond the act. of course, there was no middle ground, not with him, not when he made you feel so alive and, well, unrestrained.

it was the confident in his thrusts, how he fucked you relentlessly with a big, fat grin on his face, yet when you let out a soft whine, wordlessly begging him to shove it deeper, much much deeper and stronger, he gives your nipples some attention at the very least before he decides to lick across one with his long, ripped tongue.

and well, would you look at that, how your body reacted to that was far more devious.

©2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[myntrose]

Missing You !

ೃ⁀➷: how the l&ds boys are when they miss you.

a/n: I want these men so bad it hurts. n e ways trying something different from smau 🤍 this is part one, will write the other boys later. Also pls send requests !!

content warning: the boys missing you to the point where it's a bit concerning. maybe ooc. Suggestive in Xavier's part towards the end. Did not proof read srry💔

ft: Zayne, Xavier x reader (separately)

pt. 1 , pt. 2

₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊ zayne (705 words)

the hospital holds an unnerving chill in the air. everyone can feel it; the staff, nurses, patients and the other doctors. and even though everyone could feel it, no one chose to acknowledge the source of this tension. because no one wants to disturb Dr. Zayne when he's in one of these moods.

It's another hard day for Zayne. The paperwork seemed endless, he's had to deal all sorts of patients, and he hasn't seen you in a week. You were out in a mission, nothing out of the normal for a hunter. But Zayne couldn't help but worry. He loves you, knows you're more than capable of handling yourself, but worrying about you comes as easy as breathing to him. It's second nature, an everyday thought.

Just as he starts to steady himself, the ink of his pen explodes on the report he was writing. He about ready to lose it, letting out a deep, heavy sigh. Zayne isn't usually this disoriented, and it's making him go mad.

Moving from his desk, Zayne paces around his office, opening your last message. it stresses him out that it was 2 days ago.

ms.hunter: ugh this mission is so dumb. smt happened and now it looks like ill be gone longer. im sorry babe :(((

He grips his phone a little harder. Paces the room with heavier steps. Breaths another sigh.

What is wrong with me?

A knock at his door disrupts his pacing.

"What?"

Zayne doesn't realize he said that with a bit too much bite, a bit too coldly. The door opens to reveal his new secretary, looking like a scared little lamb entering the lions den.

He looks at his secretaries face, realizing his harsh tone. Zayne murmurs a quick apology, asking his secretary if there was something needed.

"There's someone here to meet you, Dr. Zayne. Said they had an appointment?" The secretary trails their sentence like a question, knowing that Zayne shouldn't have any appointments today. Poor thing was shivering from the doctor's cold demeanor.

The veins on Zayne's head are almost visible now. On top of this day, an unscheduled appointment? Had it not been for his doctors oath to not harm, he would've denied this appointment.

Another sigh leaves him, as he tells his secretary to let the mystery appointment inside his office. Zayne makes his way back to his desk, head in hands trying to compose himself.

"You really shouldn't be sighing so heavily, Dr. Zayne. Heard it's bad for you"

Zayne's head whipped so fast towards the doorway, that you almost left bad for laughing at the action.

He blinks once, then another, before standing up and meeting you halfway across the room.

" 'm sorry for not texting you sooner, but I've been working twice as hard to get done with my mission-"

You don't get to finish your sentence before Zayne crashes his lips into yours. This kiss was desperate, filled with longing and want. It's almost startling, usually Zayne is more composed than his.

"would be more composed had you told me you'd be arriving back today" Zayne responds, perfectly reading your thoughts. Before you could say anything, he kisses you again. This time, he's softer, placing one hand on the small of your back and the other cradling your face.

You're the one to pull apart first, desperately needing air. Looks like your boyfriend missed you more than you realized. Oh, this was gonna be so fun.

Zayne scoffs, but he's still holding you close. "I do not scowl. It's just been a stressful week at the hospital."

You laugh at that. God, he missed your laugh. He missed you. He walks the both of you to his desk, where he sits you on his lap as he takes a seat.

"Did you miss me that much? It's only been a week."

"A week too long, my love"

While you and Zayne catch up, the rest of the hospital is glad that the chill in the air has died down. Looks like the staff knows who to call when their doctor is in that mood.

𓆩✧𓆪 xavier (570 words)

there's only a few things that causes Xavier to wake up. Either you shaking him awake, peppering his face with kisses, or when you steal the blanket from him.

Actually, it's mostly you that causes him to wake up. And right now, the reason why sleep escapes him is because it seems like you escaped the bed at some point.

Xavier feels around your side of the bed, only to be met with emptiness. Confused, he wakes up, and looks around to see the room still in pitch darkness.

2:34 a.m. It's still horribly early, so you wouldn't have woken up for work. Plus, Xavier knows your schedule better than he knows his. He knows that you don't have any kind of missions to attend to right now.

So, where were you? A sudden rush of thoughts occur at once, and Xavier can't help but assume the worst scenarios. He jumps out of bed and checks around the apartment.

Bathroom? No. Living room? Empty. Kitchen? Quite. He's going a bit crazy, because where did you go?

He just about to rush outside when he hears the sound of keys opening the front door. Turning to the sound, he watches as the door opens to reveal you.

You, holding a bag from the nearby 24/7 convenience store. You walk in, not realizing that Xavier was watching as you enter the room.

You're holding your phone in your other hand, staring at it. It wasn't until you looked up that you noticed you were being watching by your boyfriend.

Your words don't make it to his ears. Rather, he answers you with a question of his own.

"Where were you?" His voice is deep, laced with a serious tone that doesn't quite suit him. Oh no, was he mad?

"I went out to buy ice cream. I couldn't sleep and wanted something sweet. I texted you where I was!" Defending yourself, showing Xavier the bag with a few ice cream bars.

Oh right, he never checked his phone. Xavier pulls his phone out of his pockets, and opens his notifications to see that you in fact did text him where you were.

"Oh."

You move to the kitchen, putting the ice cream away. "Yeah, oh is right. What, d'ya think I just left without saying a work ?" You only meant that jokingly, of course. Turning around, Xavier is right behind you, caging you between himself and the fridge.

It wasn't until you looked at his eyes when you realized that, oh, he was worried. The realization sets in, and you understand what just happened. Xavier had woken up, and genuinely thought you were done.

Your eyes soften as you look at him, moving your hands to his face "Oh, baby, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you like that." Xavier melts into your touch, and you both stay like this for a while.

You speak up first. "Why don't we go back to sleep?"

Xavier opens his eyes, looking down at you. "Actually, I'm not sleepy right now. I think I'm hungry."

"Do you want some of the ice cream I bought? I got your favorite flavor- Xav- Xavier why are we going to the bedroom?"

"I said I was hungry."

"Oh...?!"

Later that morning, you had to call into work "sick" for both you and Xavier.

[gf2bellamy]

surprise — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) summary: garcia and derek go into spencer's apartment, while you're sleeping in his bed. the problem? no one knows you and spencer are dating content warnings: secret relationship , reader also works in the bau a/n: hiii !!! i'm back to my secret relationship roots and i hope you like this <3 bc i had so much fun writing this ( i've been writing it for ages and i'm finally happy with it)

"No, no," Spencer shook his head frantically, his voice almost pleading as Derek expertly maneuvered the car into the parking spot at his apartment complex.

"Why not?" Garcia's voice was full of curiosity as she looked back at Spencer from the passenger seat.

The trio had spent the whole afternoon shopping for your birthday, which was just around the corner. Garcia, as usual, had already gotten everything ready—gifts, decorations, the whole nine yards. She even had a closet near her office packed with presents for you, waiting for the big reveal at the surprise party she was planning to throw at the BAU.

The whole mission was meant to be a fun, collaborative effort, the three of them picking out something special for you to celebrate.

But now, as Derek parked the car and they were all about to get out, Garcia’s sudden idea was making Spencer break into a cold sweat.

"I mean, we can just hang out at your place for a bit, right?" Garcia asked, her tone more like a suggestion than a question. She had already unbuckled her seatbelt, clearly excited about the idea.

Spencer swallowed hard, his fingers gripping the seatbelt.

"I don’t know if that’s such a good idea," he said quickly, trying to sound casual, though the nerves were practically radiating off of him.

"I have… stuff to do." His words stumbled, but Derek caught on immediately.

"You've got a date or something?" Derek teased, raising an eyebrow. "Come on, Reid, live a little."

Spencer’s face turned a light shade of pink, but he quickly deflected with a nervous laugh. "No, no date," he replied, but the nervous energy in his tone was giving him away. "I just—uh—need to get inside."

Garcia didn't miss a beat. "Come on, Spencer," she insisted with that gleam of excitement in her eyes. "It’s been forever since we just hung out at your place. You know, a little downtime."

But Spencer’s mind was racing, heart pounding.

The last thing he needed was for Derek and Garcia to come upstairs and see you there.

He knew you were in his apartment right now, sound asleep in his bed, curled up in one of his sweaters. This morning, you had practically melted into him that morning, clinging to him as he reluctantly told you he had to go.

You had been so warm, your face tucked into the side of his neck, holding him like you didn’t want him to leave. He’d rubbed soothing circles on your back, whispering that he’d be back soon, but you hadn't been ready to let go. Eventually, he had managed to peel himself away, promising to return as quickly as possible.

Now, his heart pounded as he watched Derek and Garcia hop out of the car without hesitation.

"No, no, no—" Spencer muttered under his breath, scrambling to open his own door. He practically stumbled out, rushing after them, but they were already making their way toward his apartment building.

They didn’t even wait for him.

"Of course," he thought bitterly as he hurried behind them. He knew he was too late. There was no way he could stop them now. His only hope was that you were still asleep.

And there was a high chance that you were.

Spencer knew your sleep schedule well—knew exactly how you curled up beneath his sheets, how deep you slept when wrapped in one of his sweaters. If he could just get inside before them and shut his bedroom door, everything would be fine.

As they reached the top floor, Spencer’s fingers fumbled in his pocket for his keys. His hands were practically shaking as he yanked them out, quickly jamming the correct one into the lock.

Slowly, he pushed the door open just a crack, peeking inside, praying you weren’t—

"Dr. Reid. What are you doing?" Garcia’s voice was laced with amusement as she leaned against the doorframe, watching him with a smirk.

Before Spencer could stop her, she pushed the door open wider, stepping inside.

Panic surged through him. His breath caught in his throat.

But—

You were nowhere to be seen.

His eyes darted toward the bedroom door. It was closed.

No sign of you.

Spencer swallowed hard, trying to compose himself as Garcia and Derek strolled inside, completely oblivious to the absolute terror he had just experienced.

Spencer quickly shut the door behind them, tossing his jacket over the nearest chair—something he never did. Normally, he was meticulous about hanging it up properly, but right now, his priority was making sure nothing seemed off.

Slipping off his shoes, he warily watched as Garcia and Derek made a beeline for his kitchen.

As they rummaged through his cabinets, Spencer seized the opportunity.

He darted down the hallway toward the bedroom, his socked feet barely making a sound on the hardwood floor. He cracked the door open just enough to peek inside, and there you were, still fast asleep, curled up under the blankets with his sweater draped loosely over your shoulders.

The sight made his chest tighten with affection, and a small, involuntary smile tugged at his lips.

He closed the door gently, careful not to make a sound, and hurried back to the kitchen before they could notice his absence.

Crisis averted.

He stopped in his tracks, however, when he saw the disaster unfolding before him.

“What are you doing?” Spencer asked, exasperated, watching as Derek and Garcia rummaged through his cabinets like raccoons.

Garcia, mid-bite into a granola bar, waved a hand dismissively. “Relax, genius, we’re just looking for snacks. By the way—” she held up the granola bar with a raised brow, “—I thought you hated these?”

Spencer froze.

He did. He never ate those granola bars.

But you did.

You loved them, so he always kept some stocked just for you.

He scrambled for an excuse, clearing his throat. “Uh—I just wanted to give them another try,” he mumbled, avoiding Garcia’s sharp, suspicious gaze.

Derek, now chewing a piece of toast, barely looked up. “Yeah, okay,” he said, mouth full.

Spencer shot him an unamused glare. “Can the two of you stop eating my food?”

“No,” Derek replied, taking another bite, completely unbothered. 

Spencer sighed, running a hand through his hair. “You know, most people ask before raiding someone’s kitchen,” he muttered, though there was no real bite to his words. 

Garcia giggled, popping the last bite of granola bar into her mouth. “Oh, come on, Spence. You love us. Besides, you’re acting super weird today. What’s going on with you?” 

Spencer’s eyes widened slightly, and he quickly looked away, busying himself with straightening a stack of papers on the counter.

“Nothing’s going on,” he said, his voice a little too high-pitched. “I’m just… tired. It’s been a long day.” 

Garcia and Derek just exchanged a look.

Spencer sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He needed to get them out of here before they found something they weren’t supposed to. 

Like, say… you.

“Do you think she’ll like my gift?” Garcia asked, peeking at the bag on the counter, her fingers fidgeting with the ribbon.

“Most definitely, babygirl,” Derek answered without hesitation, dusting the crumbs off his hands after finishing his toast. “She’s been talking about it for weeks.”

Spencer, still trying to recover from his near heart attack, nodded in agreement. “Yeah, she’ll love it,” he said, meeting Garcia’s eyes with a small, reassuring smile.

Garcia beamed, clearly pleased with herself. “Oh, she’ll love yours, boy genius,” she added, pointing at Spencer. “You know her so well.” Her voice carried a teasing lilt, her grin mischievous.

“Maybe too well,” Derek chimed in, eyebrows raised as he leaned casually against the counter, arms crossed. His grin was knowing, smug.

Spencer stiffened.

“When are you finally gonna ask her out?” Derek asked, his grin widening.

Spencer felt his face heat up instantly. He blushed, but not for the reason they thought.

He blushed because he remembered the day it happened. 

The way his heart had pounded in his chest, his palms sweaty as he rehearsed the words in his head over and over. He’d been so nervous, he’d almost convinced himself to back out.

But then he’d seen you—your smile, the way your eyes lit up when you noticed him approaching—and all his doubts had melted away. 

When he finally asked, his voice trembling slightly, your reaction had been everything he’d hoped for. Your face had lit up, and you’d nodded so quickly, it was almost comical.

“Yes!” you’d said, your voice filled with so much enthusiasm that it made him laugh. In that moment, all his anxiety had washed away, replaced by a giddy, almost overwhelming sense of relief and joy. 

“Aww, how cute!” Garcia practically vibrated with excitement, bouncing on the balls of her feet as she pointed an accusatory finger at Spencer. “He’s blushing,” she sang, her grin stretching impossibly wide. 

Spencer groaned, shaking his head in exasperation. “Did you two come into my apartment just to eat my food and make fun of me?” he asked, arms crossed.

“Pretty much,” Derek said, completely unfazed as he made his way back toward the fridge.

Spencer let out a sharp breath, trying to mask his anxiety. He knew you were still asleep, but that didn’t stop the lingering fear that their loud voices might wake you up.

But then—

Derek stopped in front of the fridge.

His eyes locked onto the calendar hanging there, and a slow, amused smirk spread across his face.

“Look at this, sweetheart,” Derek said, turning toward Garcia, his voice thick with amusement.

Garcia leaned in, her eyes widening as she saw what Derek was pointing at. There, on the calendar, your birthday was circled in bold red marker, surrounded by a carefully drawn heart.

Garcia gasped, clapping her hands together in delight. “Oh. My. God,” she said, her voice rising with every word. “Spencer Reid, you are down bad!”

Spencer felt his face burn even hotter. He wished he could disappear into the floor—or maybe just teleport to another dimension entirely. Anything to escape this moment.

Because the truth was, he hadn’t been the one to draw that heart on the calendar. It had been you.

He remembered the moment perfectly.

The day he hung the calendar up, you had been standing right there beside him, watching with an amused little smile. Then, without hesitation, you had grabbed the nearest marker—a red one, of course—and went straight to your birthday month, drawing a huge heart around the date.

"So you don’t forget."

He had chuckled, shaking his head as he stepped behind you, wrapping his arms loosely around your waist. Then, he had pressed a soft kiss to your temple, murmuring against your skin—

"I don’t forget anything. Especially not something like that."

You had blushed.

And Spencer had loved making you blush.

Now, standing in his kitchen, faced with his coworkers’ relentless teasing, he was struck with the embarrassing realization that Derek and Garcia thought he was some hopelessly lovesick teenager who had scribbled hearts around his crush’s name in a notebook.

(Which—if he was being completely honest—wasn’t that far from the truth.)

But what was he supposed to say?

Tell them the truth? Admit that the woman he’d been secretly dating for months—the same woman they were here shopping for—was currently asleep in his bed down the hall?

Absolutely not.

But then—

The choice was taken away from him anyway.

Suddenly, the sound of running water echoed from down the hallway, causing both Garcia and Derek to freeze mid-sentence. Their heads snapped toward the source of the noise, their eyes widening as they stared at Spencer.

Spencer stared back, equally wide-eyed, his mind racing. You were in the bathroom, happily brushing your teeth, completely unaware that two of your—and Spencer’s—coworkers were standing in the kitchen, mere feet away.

“Spencer Walter Reid,” Garcia gasped, her voice loud enough to carry through the apartment. She clutched Derek’s arm like she was about to faint. “Is there someone here?”

“No, no,” Spencer said quickly, shaking his head so vigorously that his curls bounced. “It’s probably just my washing machine turning on.”

As if on cue, the bathroom door creaked open, and then closed again. Spencer’s heart sank.

“Oh no,” he mumbled under his breath, his stomach twisting into knots.

And then, there you were.

You padded into the kitchen, blissfully unaware of the chaos you were about to unleash.

You were wearing Spencer’s boxers, which hung loosely around your hips, and one of his Star Wars shirts that was far too big for you, the hem brushing against your thighs. Your hair was slightly messy, and you were still rubbing sleep from your eyes.

Then you stopped.

Blinking, you finally seemed to register the two extra people in the room.

Garcia. Derek.

Standing there.

Staring.

At you.

In Spencer’s clothes.

Two pairs of eyes stared at you. And you stared back, your own eyes wide, your brain struggling to process the scene in front of you. Spencer, meanwhile, was staring at the ground like it might suddenly open up and swallow him whole.

Garcia broke the silence, her voice low and uncharacteristically quiet—something almost more shocking than if she’d screamed.

“Am I… dreaming?” she whispered, clutching Derek’s arm like a lifeline. She looked pale, her usual vibrant energy replaced by sheer disbelief as she took in your disheveled state.

Derek, for once, seemed just as stunned. “I… no, I don’t think so,” he said hesitantly, his usual confidence replaced by uncharacteristic uncertainty.

He blinked at you, then at Spencer, then back at you, as if trying to piece together what exactly was happening.

“Spencer,” you hissed, your voice low but urgent. “What the hell is happening?” You tugged self-consciously at the hem of his Star Wars shirt, trying to pull it down further.

Normally, you were the picture of professionalism at work, always impeccably dressed and composed.

But here you were, standing in Spencer’s kitchen in his boxers and an oversized shirt, your hair a mess and your face still flushed from sleep.

It was beyond awkward—it was mortifying.

Spencer finally looked up, his expression a mix of guilt and panic. “I, uh… this isn’t—” he started, but Garcia cut him off.

“Oh no, no, no,” Garcia said, her voice rising with every word, her hands flailing dramatically. “You do not get to ‘this isn’t’ us right now. This is happening. This is definitely happening.”

She pointed a finger at you, then at Spencer, her eyes wide.

“You two. Together. In his apartment. Wearing his clothes. Oh my gosh, this is the best day of my life.”

You froze, your cheeks burning as you tugged self-consciously at the hem of Spencer’s shirt. “Penelope, it’s not—” you started, but she cut you off with a wave of her hand.

“Nope, nope, nope,” she said, shaking her head so vigorously that her curls bounced. “No explanations, no excuses. This is happening. I have been waiting for this moment for years.”

Spencer groaned, running a hand through his already messy hair. “Garcia, please—”

“No,” she interrupted again, her voice rising an octave. “You don’t get to ‘Garcia, please’ me right now. This is huge. This is monumental. This is—”

“A disaster,” Spencer muttered under his breath, though the faintest hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

Derek, who had been quietly observing the scene with an amused grin, finally chimed in. “Man, Reid, I gotta hand it to you. I didn’t think you had it in you.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “This is so embarrassing,” you muttered, though there was a hint of laughter in your voice.

Garcia, meanwhile, was practically bouncing on her toes, her excitement palpable. “Oh, this is going to be so much fun. I can’t wait to tell—”

“No!” Spencer and you said in unison, your voices sharp enough to make Garcia freeze mid-sentence.

“You are not telling anyone,” Spencer said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Garcia pouted, but there was a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Fine, fine. But only because I’m feeling generous. For now.”

Derek chuckled, shaking his head. “Man, this is going to be the best office drama ever.”

You groaned again, burying your face in your hands. “I’m going back to bed,” you muttered, turning on your heel and heading back down the hallway.

As you disappeared into the bedroom, Garcia and Derek turned to Spencer, their expressions a mix of amusement and disbelief.

“You’ve got some explaining to do, Pretty Boy,” Derek said, his grin widening.

Spencer sighed, knowing there was no escaping this. “Yeah,” he said, his voice resigned. “I know.”

[rosones]

social media au - being in an all-girl K-pop group touring with bigbang

liked by taeyangforevaaa & 1,203,998 others

tmz_tv ✓ - y/n from lumina and big bangs Top spotted together in a parking garage !! after multiple flirty on-stage interactions during their joint tour, is this the start of a budding romance? are these two k-pop stars taking their romance off stage? fans want to know !

view comments

user - paparazzi is so invasive .

user - I KNEW ITTTTT

user - don’t know why their companies allow them to be out in public like this

userlikespepperoni - let them do whatever they want, they’re full grown adults

user - /@userlikespepperoni exactly !! everybody is so parasocial it’s weird

user - i think they look great together idk

liked by ttt, xxxibgdrgn, & 3,478,629 others

y/n ✓ - thank you for having me @breakfastclubam <3

view comments

user - does she address her dating rumors with Top in this ??

user - ugh brown is her color

cinephile2015 - she’s so beautiful

user - /@cinephile2015 preach 🙏

user - your relationship is beautiful and you shouldn’t let anybody ruin it for you ❤️

liked by author

the following article was written by maya peters and published by tmz .

Are Lumina’s Y/N and BIGBANG’s T.O.P More Than Just Tourmates? Fans Think So!

K-pop fans are buzzing after Y/N from Lumina and BIGBANG’s T.O.P were spotted together in a parking garage late last night, fueling already rampant dating rumors. The two idols, whose groups have been touring together for the past few week, have been serving undeniable chemistry on stage—but is there something more happening off-stage?

The duo’s interactions during performances have been a hot topic, with playful glances, inside jokes, and even a few “accidental” touches keeping fans on their toes. While some chalk it up to stage presence and fan service, others are convinced there’s something real brewing behind the scenes. And now, after Y/N’s recent interview on The Breakfast Club radio show, the rumors are only gaining more traction.

When asked about her relationship with T.O.P, Y/N played it cool—but her response left plenty of room for speculation. “T.O.P is… a great guy. He’s been in the industry for a long time, so I really respect and admire him,” she said with a knowing smile. “Touring together has been an amazing experience, and I think we’ve all gotten really close.” While she didn’t outright confirm the romance, that little smirk (paired with the way she quickly changed the subject) didn’t go unnoticed by fans.

Life on the road has only made these whispers louder. The joint tour has been a dream for fans of both groups, with electric performances and unforgettable moments in every city. From sold-out arenas to late-night fan interactions, Y/N has expressed how much she’s loved connecting with supporters around the world. “It’s been exhausting but also the most fun I’ve ever had,” she shared. “Seeing fans’ reactions, hearing them sing along—it makes everything worth it.”

But between the hectic schedule and endless travel, it seems like Y/N and T.O.P have still found time to enjoy each other’s company. Whether it’s subtle matching outfits, disappearing from afterparties at the same time, or that now-infamous parking garage sighting, all signs are pointing to a potential K-pop power couple in the making.

So, is it official? Y/N isn’t saying… but she isn’t exactly denying it either. And in the world of K-pop, that says everything.

liked by ttt, xxxibgdrgn, __yungbae__, d_lable_official, & 8,372,746 others

y/n ✓ - thank you for everything

view comments

user - omg are they like official now???

user - the group photo ❤️‍🩹

user - THEY KISSED I WAS THEREEEE

ilikebagels1234 - love that they confirmed their relationship on stage 💓

user - /@ilikebagels1234 they love and trust their fans sm

user - never want this tour to end

[tossawary]

The fun thing about Luo Binghe potentially NOT being pushed into the Endless Abyss at the Immortal Alliance Conference, imo, is that he's still a forcibly outed heavenly demon stuck in the middle of the cultivation world after a deadly invasion. There are so many different fun ways to play it.

So, Shen Yuan groggily wakes up and the first thing he sees is that traitorous asshole Shang Qinghua's relieved face and disheveled appearance. Ugh. And then first thing that the An Ding Peak Lord says is: "Wow, and I thought the System hated my ass. It had it OUT for you, bro."

What the fuck.

At which point, Shen Yuan sits bolt upright because what the hell happened? The last thing he remembers is not moving, the weight of the sword in his hand, the thunder of his heart in his ears, not being able to go through with it, hoping against all reason that this was all some sort of sick test and that the System wouldn't really-

"Where's Binghe?" Shen Yuan demands.

Shang Qinghua winces. "About that..."

And Shen Yuan's heart falls because Binghe ended up in the Endless Abyss anyway, obviously. There were apparently two transmigrators all along and neither of them could truly change the story.

"He got arrested for your murder and the invasion of the conference," Shang Qinghua says, scratching the back of his neck. "It was ugly. So ugly. I probably would have died if Liu Qingge hadn't shown up to put him down. The Palace Master is saying that this is obviously revenge for Tianlang-Jun's sealing and Yue Qingyuan has pretty much stopped talking-"

"What."

"Oh, you were super dead, bro, and the protagonist freaked the fuck out. I was there, so he started yelling about why I hadn't done something, irrational with grief and all that, it was pretty scary."

And Shen Yuan can see how a surprise heavenly demon kid would get blamed for his shizun's death and the invasion of the conference. There's nothing that any drama likes better than an innocent person somehow caught red-handed in the middle of an inexplicable disaster.

"Wait, the invasion IS your fault!" Shen Yuan says, pointing an accusatory finger. He feels like shit still, but his righteous, trembling anger is going mostly in the right direction. "Why didn't you speak up-?"

"What, and I was going to admit to that in front of all of those peak lords and sect leaders? Get off my dick, bro."

"I meant blame Mobei-Jun!"

"Oh, yeah. They'd made up their minds, though! And shit got really violent really quickly! Liu Qingge is still itching to kill someone here, you know. Ask yourself why you're not still dead first, huh?"

That's an annoyingly good question. And Shang Qinghua annoyingly answers himself without waiting for an input.

"You're so fucking lucky that I've been here for like forty years now and I have so many useless points. Enough to pay off YOUR debt! They can be transferred, apparently? Be grateful! Anyway, I don't want the vengeful protagonist thinking that I hold any blame whatsoever in you fainting to death there, even if he is locked up in the Water Prison right now, so don't say I did nothing for you, got it?"

"...He's WHERE?!"

"Water Prison. He's going to be put on bullshit trial for the Immortal Alliance Conference and also for existing as a heavenly demon. Keep up, bro. Also," Shang Qinghua says with an urgent look over his shoulder, "you have to back me up when I try to explain to Mu Qingfang and Huang Qingheng that you were only mostly dead, they must have missed something, and I was just hanging around paying my respects when you miraculously recovered. I don't know anything! Ready to go?"

"No."

"Well, that fucking sucks for you. Let's go!"

[f1cflcfic]

Won't Say I'm in Love (SMAU ft Lando Norris) part ii

pairing: lando norris x tennis player!reader (fem!y/n); past carlos alcaraz x tennis player!reader (fem!y/n)

summary: As a general rule, y/n does not date athletes. You've been there, done that - would not recommend. Besides, you definitely don't do love. There's no time in the world for complicated feelings when there's a career Grand Slam to be won. But what if your heart just refuses to listen?

genre: social meda/mixed au, friends to lovers

note: this is RPF and is obviously in no way, shape, or form reflective of real persons

series: part i

end of January, 2025

1st week of February, 2025

[Excerpt from Red Carpet interview]

Hi Y/N L/N! We're so glad to see you here. First of all, congratulations on your win at the Australian Open.

“Thanks so much! I’m really excited to have started the year this way.”

We’re excited too – and very happy that you could make time to come here to London for this. Your calendar must be incredibly full.

“I do try and always have a week off after the Grand Slams at least, but the WTA Tour schedule has definitely filled out over the years. It’s always a bit of a puzzle to both ensure I can play enough, win points, and at the same time strike that right balance in terms of fitness.  Both mentally and physically.”

And yet you’re adding work for yourself by not only being a top athlete, but now also a brand ambassador for Dior. What made you want to do this?

“It’s a really cool opportunity to just play dress up from time to time, to be honest. Plus, I love that they recognise athletes and sports can be high fashion, too. I always think of how incredibly inspiring Serena Williams is, both on and off the court for breaking boundaries and for showing that sports and fashion can go really well together.”

Did you get any time to relax at all?

"Weirdly, this almost feels relaxing to me, because of how much time you have to carve out and focus on yourself – without any performance target attached to it. But I’ve also taken some time to hang with my friends and family."

You’re turning 27 this year as well, and you’ve been a pro athlete for almost 10 years now. Obviously last year wasn’t the best for you, performance wise. Has that made you reflect on what those performance targets will look like in the future? What’s something you’ve learned in that time?

"I mean, the main goal for me would be to achieve a Career Grand Slam – and just play the best tennis that I can possibly play. And in terms of what I’ve learned, I would say that it’s to choose your friends, your team very wisely. Sometimes I’ve regretted missing major events, and sometimes I’ve regretted giving people too much room in my life. You need people who help you keep that balance.” People who keep you grounded, who tether you. Because being a pro athlete means you have to be really selfish from time to time, and it means sacrifice. I don’t see my baby niece as often as I’d like, for example. But it’s just the way it is."

2nd week of February, 2025

3d week of February, 2025

[Transcript excerpts of Quadrant video]

“Alright so we’ve got our pro-athletes here, ready to battle it out in a game of Wii Sports,” Max starts, quickly introducing Lando and Y/N.

“You are going to lose so bad, Norris,” she says.

“Oh I see, we’re already starting the trash talking,” he retorts. “Haven’t even started the game yet.”

“That’s half the fun, isn’t it? Are we also going to play Mario Kart after this, just to see if Lando has what it takes to beat me on there?” Y/N asks eagerly, turning to Max.

“No fucking way, you always cheat!” Lando exclaims, with Y/N heard protesting in the background. “No I don’t, I just use the shortcuts that exist in the game! That is legitimate!”

(...)

“Birdie gets a birdie,” Lando cheers, though Max quickly chides him for encouraging the competition. “What? It’s not like she’s going to do it again, she’s terrible at this game,” Lando adds, motioning at the otherwise abysmal golf score that Y/N’s Mii character has racked up.

“Hey! She is right here, and she is currently in the lead after winning the bowling and tennis already.”

(...)

“Do you feel good about beating up a girl?” Y/N pouts, after losing the boxing match between her and Lando. He immediately makes a face, spluttering out an indignant “no!” that elicits a laugh from Y/N.

“Alright, that’s enough from both of you. With Lando’s win, it’s now tied again with only baseball to go. We’ll allow you both to consult your coach before starting this next round.”

They both turn to their coach for the day, one of the other Quadrant members, before taking their places – Wii Remote and Nunchuk in hand.

“You ready?

“Ready,” they nod, looking incredibly competitive. They even try and push each other to mess up their scores, devolving into a tickle fight halfway through. “No, Y/N stop, stop, I can’t - I’m crying,” Lando laughs, face red with tears streaming down his face.

“Does that mean I win?” She looks up from where she’d all but tackled Lando onto the ground, but then Max just shakes his head.

“It’s very close – but you’ve got one more pitch to go. You’re gonna need to let Lando hit it, or at least try to.” As soon as the words come out of his mouth, he blanches. Y/N rolls her eyes but starts uncontrollably giggling nonetheless.

“I regretted it as soon as I said it,” Max apologises profusely, but the camera zooms in on Lando who’s trying to hide his face behind both his hands, wheezing as Y/N tries to stand up and compose herself. Once they’ve finally managed to continue, it’s Lando who has the tiniest edge over Y/N.

“Ugh, well. This better not be a bad omen for me this season, but I guess I’d quite like to see you win the championship, Norris.”

“That’s actually very sweet,” he slings his arm around Y/N’s waist, then cracks open the champagne and pours it out over the two of them, with Y/N shrieking loudly at the cold, stickiness.

"So glad that's not part of tennis traditions."

4th week of February, 2025

[Excerpt Exit Press Conference]

“BBC Sport here. Your track record on hard court against Iga is not the best, now with 4 wins and 5 losses. How does that affect your training moving forward?

"Well, it was really close – so I feel like those type of numbers don’t really mean that much when it comes down to just a handful of winners or errors. Iga and I have played each other quite often, and she’s just an incredibly strong player. There’s a reason she’s had a long run at #1 and has returned to that spot for now.

In terms of training, I mean, we’re moving to gravel soon so it’s a completely different ballgame. Literally. We might run into each other again at Indian Wells, so of course we’ll come up with a plan – but my focus is already shifting towards the next Grand Slam, to be honest.”

Question from ViaPlay. Indian Wells is of course known for being the Grand Slam of the West and it’s one of the few 1000s tours where both ATP and WTA players meet. Last year, you entered into the mixed doubles with your then partner. Is that something you’d consider doing again in the future?

"Thanks for the question, but no. I’m playing singles, I’m not ready to mingle – I’m ready to pringle."

Will you actually have time to pringle, as you say? Or is it straight back to training for you?

"I’m going to spend a few days just hanging out, especially because I now have an extra day off all of a sudden. So I’ll try to make the most of that, then switch gears. Thanks."

A/N: Hope this uploads from the airport!! lol - next part coming March 14th, featuring Indian Wells, an interview faux-pas by Y/N, and of course some very fast cars 👀

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