#it’s out of sync and awful

[commanderfloppy]

Niche Wintersday meme for me and the 3 other people who play Bell Choir

[bueris]

okay maybe I should seriously reconsider my path in life and sell my soul to marketing or journalism instead

[lonestardust]

Carlos and TK being the epitome of soulmates with their telepathy and eye contact game when things go crazy around them. yup they're endgame for a reason. or two or three..

[satoruly]

enemies to lovers and its a guitarist x bassist

[brainrotzora]

these things are always happening to the ones i like :////////

anyways the lighting in this dungeon is so nice

didn't get any good pics bc i was too busy dungeoning but so pretty...best dungeon music so far goes to snowcloak though btw

[leonstamatis]

💌 !!!

mason!!!! hello!!

i feel like you have such a longlasting and deep, dear appreciation for things. like the media and characters that you love get put in the little mason pouch to be carried around and admired forever, and i just think that’s so lovely and nice. whenever you talk about one of your guys (tm) it brings me such joy bc i know how long you’ve had them in your heart and how much you love them, and seeing that just! makes me happy!

[sysig]

Ughhhhhhh

[possumkingluca]

...And that makes 2 out of 4! I'm getting there slowly but surely Let me introduce you to.... Aero Krause! The complete bastard of a Tiefling Wildfire Druid in their Prismari uniform and their post-module homebrewed second half outfit.

[softenji]

I’ve been trying to think about why I didn’t like the Scott pilgrim cartoon trailer and I’ve finally figured out why

I felt like I was watching an animation graduates thesis project rather than a professionally made cartoon and it’s not terrible but. It just left a lot to be desired to me tbh

[myspacelolit4]

life asks for so much from me and the only thing i want to do is to watch already which lip sync songs they’ll have for drag race méxico

[ba9go]

to fall in love with soulmate!bakugou katsuki

the soulmate au nobody ever asked for. in which red is your favourite colour, and also the colour of katsuki's eyes.

bakugou katsuki x gn!reader

you've always considered it one of your greatest blessings, being in class 1-a.

it's where you got to meet some of the brightest people at u.a. high. you were supported by amazing teachers and got to grow alongside the best classmates you could ever ask for; without 1-a, you wouldn't be half the pro-hero you were today.

but most of all, that's how you met your soulmate.

growing up, you never really believed in soulmates. you knew soulmarks existed. you've heard stories, of magically-appearing matching-coloured bands around the wrist and perfectly-synced unmatched chemistry between lovers simply destined for each other. it all sounded too good to be true.

you were 13 when your parents (who were "soulmates") decided to split after almost 20 years of marriage. you told yourself right there and then, that you would never live your life waiting for some magical moment, for the stars to align, for sparks to fly. what was the point?

you were 15 when you met your soulmate.

bakugou katsuki. when you first met him, he was loud, obnoxious, and absolutely unbearable. he was an egomaniac, an asshole to everybody. when you first locked eyes with his, you felt a burn sear across the skin of your wrist.

in the red of his eyes, you saw red. nevermind that red was your favourite colour — you were angry. angry that this guy just had to be your soulmate. your other half. but you also felt smug. smug that you were right, about soulmates meaning jackshit.

you couldn't read bakugou's expression. you didn't bother. you simply turned around and walked away.

you stopped by the nearest family mart and bought a concealer. you got back to your dorm room. seated on the cold tiles of the bathroom floor, you finally allowed yourself to look down at your wrist.

again, you saw red — a single, braided cord tattooed around your wrist. of course, it had to be red. you dabbed at it with your newly-bought concealer until it was gone.

you don't miss the way bakugou stares at you, at your wrist, when you walk into class the next day. his eyes narrow, his face twists into a scowl, and you feel oddly satisfied.

but a soulmate isn't that easy to get rid of, apparently. especially when he's your classmate.

the moment you saw his quirk, you understood that bakugou katsuki was a force to be reckoned with.

bakugou katsuki was relentless. he was driven, ambitious, confident, and strong. and he only got stronger, and stronger. and you refused to fall behind him.

you couldn't take your eyes off him. you were afraid that if you blinked for even a fraction of a second, he'd go on without you and you'd miss out on his metamorphosis into a true hero.

into somebody you could actually love. and no, not just a fleeting love. a love that could last you a lifetime.

you don't take your eyes off bakugou katsuki. you watch him, furiously attentive with awe and fascination and spite. watching katsuki ignites something in you that you don't understand. well, not yet.

sometimes, your gaze flickers to katsuki's right wrist, to the red string wrapped around it, and your stomach twists at the reminder that bakugou katsuki was not just your rival; he was, in theory, the other half of your soul.

you continue denying this fact until bakugou forces you to face it.

after a particularly gruelling day of quirk training, you're completely spent. you're exhausted, hunched over the water cooler and taking mouthful after mouthful of water. when you stand back upright, your feet wobble and your knees buckle but you're steadied by a strong hand clasped on your shoulder.

you jerk at the touch, and you whip around to see bakugou katsuki standing next to you. you wrench yourself out of his hold and bakugou rolls his eyes at you.

"better not pass out," bakugou grumbles. "m'leavin' you and your beat-up ass here if you do."

"fuck off," you spit. "i don't need your help." you pass out as soon as you finish your sentence.

bakugou catches you and easily gathers your tired and bruised body in his arms. you wake up 3 hours later in recovery girl's office, with a pounding headache and, on the nightstand, a bottle of water and a box of aspirin.

you reach over to grab 2 pills and you realise that the concealer on your wrist has been smudged off. it's also then that you realise the brand-new concealer that's also on the nightstand.

the twist of your stomach is all too familiar, and it's then that you decide that you're done running away from your soulmate.

later, you find yourself knocking on his door. he opens the door after roughly 18 seconds of knocking and you're greeted with a gruff "fuck do you want" until he realises it's you, and he takes a step to the side to let you in.

you stand awkwardly in the middle of his room, until he snorts, taking a seat on his bed and patting the spot next to him. you oblige.

it's quiet, and you realise you don't exactly know what to say. "thank you"? "i'm sorry"?

"so?" bakugou asks expectantly. "what, wrong brand of concealer?" he raises an eyebrow, somewhat amused.

you know he's joking, but you still flinch at his words.

"no, that's not it," you say, shaking your head quickly. "i just... well... i..." before you can stop yourself, you're crying.

bakugou catches on and offers you a tissue. you don't know why he's being so nice to you, but you mutter a quiet "sorry, thanks" and accept it anyway.

your hand brushes against his as you take the tissue, and you see the exact moment bakugou realises that for once, you don't have concealer applied to your wrist.

bakugou's frowning.

you don't know what you were expecting, showing up now at bakugou's room after ignoring him for most of the year and blatantly disregarding the fact that the two of you were soulmates. of course you should've known that he'd be upset.

"i'm sorry," you croaked. "for everything. i avoided you for so long, i was just so scared, i didn't know you back then and i wasn't ready to—"

bakugou holds your wrist so gently. you realise that he's still looking at the red band around your wrist, and your chest tightens at the uncharacteristically soft look in his eyes.

a small smile graces his lips, and it's like a weight is finally lifted off your shoulders because you finally get it.

bakugou katsuki is your soulmate.

"you're my soulmate," bakugou says simply, finally looking you in the eyes, and you know he's known all along but you can tell that he's sure of it now.

because you're sure of it now, too.

"you're my soulmate," you smile. you meet his gaze shyly, and as you stare into the red of his eyes you realise that red has always been your favourite colour.

i hope you guys enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writing this ❤️

taglist (thank you for your support!!): @anicaaa67 @maddietries @valeriyaaak @v3n7s @deimosjay @zaiban2989 @girls-overflower @notmeduhh @dreamcastgirl99 @busdriver-move-that-ass @atashiboba @kathsuhki @armeenix @channnee @antiwhores @sukunasbottomlefteyeball @kenqki @vikizzy @thesimpybitch @eempxth @hanta-seros-wifey @itztaki @thekidscallmebosss

[bro-atz]

early morning live

in which: mingi hops on a voice live first thing in the morning...

pair: idol!mingi/afab!reader

word count: 2.6k

content: smut, slightly pwp, morning sex, cockwarming, i'd call this semipublic since he's on live, unprotected sex (PLS REMEMBER TO WRAP UP IRL!), completely consensual!

rated: R | nsfw — minors do not interact

author's note: my most favorite person in the entire world @k-hotchoisan and i did another exchange fic this month bc we like killing each other w our words and y'all are unfortunately collateral damage hehe (just call us anti-heroes atp) you can read aubs' fic here!

Usually, Mingi stayed over at your place. You didn't like sneaking into the dorms, and you always felt a little awkward spending the night there because you and Mingi get a little frisky every night you're together. Yet, you were at the dorms that morning. The night before, Mingi desperately wanted you to listen to something he was working on, and with his entire set up, there was no way he was going to be able to bring the music to you.

Luckily for Seonghwa and San, Mingi ended up serenading you to sleep that night, so they didn't have to endure a night of squeaky bedsprings and hushed moans that seeped through the thin walls. However, because you fell asleep the night before, it meant that Mingi was hot and bothered the next morning. Well, he wasn't the only one.

You woke up when he hugged you tightly to his chest, his waist and morning wood pressing into your back. You heard him let out a tiny whine into your ear before he nuzzled his nose into your neck. Even though he seemed asleep, you knew for a fact that he was awake.

"How long are you going to pretend to be asleep, Mingi?" you chuckled as you turned in his arms.

"Oh, so you knew I was awake, huh?" Mingi asked somewhat sheepishly in response.

You kissed his cheek and whispered, "Good morning."

Mingi's face broke out into a wide grin. He pressed his lips against yours and replied, "Good morning, baby."

He was being cute and lovely with you, but his hips were restless as they pressed and rolled into yours. You couldn't help but tease him by bringing your knee between his legs and brushing it against his stiff crotch, the man immediately whimpering as he felt you do so.

"How long have you been like this?"

"I don't know," he sighed. "I was hard last night, too..."

"Aw, my love... You poor thing..." You cupped his face, your thumbs brushing along his beauty marks gently as you stroked his face. Your knee continued to tease him as you asked him with a hushed voice, "Do you want me to help you take care of that, then?"

"Please," Mingi practically begged.

You moved so that he was leaning slightly awkwardly against the wall as you straddled him. You pulled off your night shorts and began grinding your barely clothed crotch against his hard-on. Mingi sighed with slight bliss as he felt you pleasure him over his sweatpants, but that wasn't enough at all. For one thing, your lips were far too far away from his, and he needed to be inside you.

His hand on the back of your head, Mingi pulled you into him, and he kissed you sloppily. His tongue quickly made its way into your mouth as his hand moved from the back of your head to your neck, his fingers pressing into the sides of your neck as he made out with you roughly. You moaned into his mouth, and you felt blood rush to your ears as he slowly deprived you of oxygen and filled you with pleasure.

As he kept you heavily focused on his plush lips, he moved his hand between your legs and rubbed your cunt briefly before diving his hand into his sweats and boxers to pull out his thick, hard cock. He finally loosened his grip on your neck and broke his lips away from yours by pushing your neck back.

Neither of you uttered a single word— you both moved perfectly in sync. You sat up slightly and moved your panties to the side before Mingi rubbed the tip of his penis along your folds. When his cock was placed perfectly at your entrance and both his hands moved to your thighs, you lowered yourself, his cock driving deep inside you. You couldn't help but let out a shuddering gasp as you felt his length fill you up, a smirk playing on his lips as he watched your eyes flutter with pleasure. That smirk suddenly fell off his face as he suddenly realized something.

"Shit, baby, I have to do a voice live this morning," Mingi groaned.

"Oh... Well, you should start that, then," you responded while leaving a light kiss on his lips.

Mingi bit his lower lip and sighed, his gaze narrowing as his eyes darkened. Despite how his face screamed that he craved you, you knew that he was conflicted because his hold on your thighs kept faltering.

"You know we can't be doing this while I'm on live," he whispered while brushing his lips against yours.

"You should've thought of that before slipping your cock inside me, my love."

You clenched your cunt, making the man under you groan sensually and with frustration. Honestly, he thought about foregoing the live altogether, but he knew that if he did, then Seonghwa would be on his ass to do it since he did promise that he was going to do one the day before. 

"So, what, you're going to cockwarm me until I'm done?"

"Unless you want me to get off—"

"Don't you fucking dare," Mingi cut you off. "Stay."

You couldn't help but smirk when you saw the frustration cross his face when you suggested not riding him. Mingi ended up reluctantly unlocking his phone and tapping on his screen a couple times before starting the live. He held his finger to his lips to shush you before the live actually started, and you nodded to confirm.

"Good morning, Atiny," Mingi spoke softly, his voice rumbling. The man was definitely wide awake, but the way that he was using his morning voice for the live entertained but also ticked you off in a way. He should only ever use that voice for you, after all.

You could see the chat blowing up with comments from the corner of your eye as Mingi held his phone near his face, but not so close that it was near yours.

"Me? What am I doing? I just woke up," he chuckled slightly. "You can't tell?"

Fuck cockwarming him. You started moving, the Mingi's breath immediately hitching. He still had one hand on your thigh, and you felt his grasp on it tighten. He looked at you with stern eyes, but that didn't stop you from ignoring his silent warning. Rather than keep still like a good girl for him, you moved your head to the side of his neck and ran the tip of your tongue along his neck muscles.

"Ugh, I have a lot to do today... I just don't want to work today..."

He was reading comments while you continued to tease him. You rolled your hips, evoking a sharp inhale from him. His inhale morphed into a chuckle when he responded to some of the jokes viewers were making in the chat.

"Ah, gotta work, gotta make that money. You're right... But I'm so comfortable in my bed..."

Mingi ended up shifting upwards so that his back was pressed more comfortably against the wall. His cock moved inside you slightly, making you have to choke back a whimper when you felt him go deeper and somehow get bigger inside you.

"Mmm, you really think I'm going to tell you what I'm working on?" Mingi teased the chat. "I'm not saying a word."

Then, Mingi did the craziest thing and handed you his phone to hold. You looked at him with wide eyes as you held his phone, allowing him to pull his shirt off and toss it aside. He was getting bolder. You didn't trust that at all.

"Ah, well, last night... Hmmm," Mingi pondered out loud as he took his phone back and read the most recent comment. He moved his hand under your shirt and began massaging your breast, his eyes flickering to you from his screen, telling you to keep quiet as he toyed with your breast. You bit your lower lip hard as his eyes returned to his phone screen. "I was working on a song."

You pressed your palms flat against Mingi's chest, your nails slowly starting to dig into his fair skin as his fingers twisted and pinched your nipple. You nearly gasped when he moved his hips upwards slowly, silently indicating to you that he wanted you to start moving.

"Are you sure?" you mouthed to him.

"I need you to fuck me, baby," he mouthed back, his lips pulling into a slight pout.

You did as he asked, the pout selling you (as if his throbbing dick inside you wasn't enough). You did your best to keep as quiet as possible, but the fact that your cunt squelched every time you bounced your ass on Mingi's cock did not help. Mingi held his phone as far away from the two of you as he could, but he didn't think that would help. What ended up working for the two of you was Mingi putting his headphones in one ear, the voice isolation definitely helping.

"Huh? It sounds different? I just put my earphones in," Mingi said as he read one of the comments.

Now that he didn't need to hold his phone, he set it down on the bed. Both of his hands moved to your ass, and he began to move you the way he wanted you to move. You completely collapsed into his chest as he rolled his waist up and pressed your ass down.

The angle was making it hard for you to control your breathing and sounds, and you were getting worried that your lips were too close to the microphone on his headphones, so you leaned backwards. You held onto Mingi's shins and bounced yourself on his cock a little faster, a moan suddenly slipping from his mouth when he suddenly thrust his hips upwards.

You looked at Mingi with complete shock and tried your best to stifle your own laugh as you saw him scramble to look at the comment section on his phone.

"What are you talking about?" Mingi immediately did damage control as he saw the chat spam with comments about his morning activities. "No, I'm waking up. I'm—" he cut himself off while he pretended to yawn. "I'm stretching."

Mingi's eyes kept flitting from you to his phone, his eyes lingering more on you when you stopped bouncing to pull off your shirt and reveal your naked upper torso. You saw his jaw clench as you ran your hands over your breasts and fondled them while moving sporadically on his cock.

"You're evil," he mouthed as he looked at you with furrowed eyebrows and a tense jaw.

You batted your eyelashes innocently in response, making something snap within the man. You watched him quickly press the mute button before suddenly flipping you so that your chest was pressed into the bed, you ass high in the air. You didn't know how he managed to move you so quickly, and you didn't even bother pondering the thought when you felt his cock rush into you.

"It's too early in the morning for this," Mingi whined to both the chat and to you. "Should I just go back to bed?"

You heard Mingi chuckle as he, presumably, continued to read comments. He held onto your ass with one hand and tossed his phone next to you so that you could read the comments along with him as he leaned over and began fucking you a little harder. It took everything in you to keep your shit together and not make a single noise the harder you felt him thrust into you.

"What am I going to have for breakfast? I have to finish brushing first, but I was thinking about peaches," he told the chat, the emphasis on the word finish clearly for you.

You felt Mingi lightly slap your ass, making you bury your face into his sheets. You were breathing erratically at that point, and you so badly wanted to moan properly, but you couldn't knowing that he was still on live. Sure, he had his headphones in, but you didn't trust those to not pick up the high shrills of your pleasureful cries.

"What are you doing listening to my live in class? You should be focusing," Mingi lectured. "I'll actually end the live soon, so don't worry. I should be getting on with my day, too."

Mingi's voice sounded strained towards the end, and based on the quick snaps of his hips, you could tell that he was trying so hard to keep from cumming.

"I'll probably do a live later, I promise," Mingi assured the chat. "Have a good day, everyone!"

You had never seen him end his live so quickly. As soon as his phone was shut off, Mingi flipped you around and lowered himself on top of you completely. His chest rubbed against yours before his lips crashed into yours, the desperation in his entire being coming out through his kisses, his hold on you, and his thrusts into you. You moaned and cried into his mouth as he fucked you so hard into his mattress that a spring practically broke.

"F-Fuck," he stuttered. "I'm so close, baby— Why'd you get so fucking tight?!"

Mingi was practically hysterical with the way he was fucking you as if his life depended on it. You couldn't even respond to him; he was quite literally fucking your brains out at that point. His waist was slapping against yours rapidly, and his cock was hitting your cervix repeatedly. Plus, you were so close to cumming as well, you just wanted to chase that high.

You dug your nails into Mingi's arms when he pushed your thighs up to the point where you were bent like a pretzel. He had a tight grasp on your calves that only got tighter as his thrusts slowed down but powered up. The final thread of your sanity finally snapped when he shoved his cock so deep inside you that he bulged out for a split moment.

"M-Mingi— Fuck!" you cried and flung your head back, stars filling your vision as you squeezed your eyes shut. "I'm— Nngh! C-Cumming!"

"Me too— Shit— Ah!"

Mingi slammed his hips into yours one last time before the two of you came together. You creamed on his cock while he shot ropes of white deep into you. Mingi's low groan harmonized with your high moan as the two of you finished completely.

"Fuck, baby," Mingi whispered as he sunk his head into your neck. "That was too fucking good..."

You barely murmured in agreement— you were too busy trying to blink the blurriness out of your eyes as you regained your sense of sanity. Mingi collapsed on the bed next to you and hugged you close to him, his cock still buried deep inside you. Once your breathing settled down, you ran your fingernail along his neck before flattening your palm on his chest.

"You still want me to cockwarm you, my love?" you asked him softly.

Mingi nuzzled his nose into your neck briefly before leaning back and nodding at you, a small smile on his face. You couldn't help but giggle at the man's response and silently agreed to stay there and let him do just that.

As the two of you laid in his bed, Mingi brushed your hair out of your face tenderly, only for his finger to nearly poke your eye out when someone started banging on the door.

"Did you seriously do a voice live while you were fucking your girlfriend?! Song Mingi, are you out of your damn mind?!"

taglist:

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@illusionnet @ksmutsociety @wonderlandnet

[velvetcrimsonkisses]

Ino who has such a big cock but doesn’t know how to use it. But it’s okay!! Because he now has you to help him out.

“You like that don’t you pretty boy…?”

Your words like soft silk flood his sensitive ears as you press soft, sensuous kisses all over his perfect face. The way you have him straddled, grinding yourself against his painfully hard cock holds him in awe. He feels his mind drift into a haze, no longer able to form any words. All he can do is nod his head as he allows you to have your way with him.

He closes his eyes, savoring the sweet sensation of your lips on his skin. You could tell he was nervous, it was like this everytime. He never knew where to put his hands, or if he should try kissing you back or even try to initiate something more… he left it all up to you.

He liked when you touched him. The way your hands slipped under his black crew neck always got his muscles to tense up. He loved it when they tread lower and you graze over his v-line. Biting his lip so he doesn’t embarrass himself with the sounds he makes. But he can’t help but turn into a whiny mess when you tug down on his sweats, revealing what you both wanted most.

“Sorry…” He stumbles over his words. “If it’s not… what you expected.” His face rapidly flushes red.

Your eyes widen at the image in front of you. “I think it’s… more than I expected.” Your words only fluster him more, using his hand to hide his face. It’s a good thing you already knew how to calm him down because you only planned to ruin him even more.

He spreads his legs further as an invitation, his thick cock already covered in pre-cum bobs up slightly. Finally gaining the confidence to touch you, his hands shoot up to your hips as you ease yourself on his cock. Slowly you sink down onto him, his eyes rolling back in pleasure as a low groan escaping his lips. “Fuck…me..”

He looks back up at you with dewy eyes, almost on the verge of crying because of how good you felt around him. His hips buck up, wanting you to move. He gasps as you begin to ride him, his head falling back against the pillow. He couldn’t help but watch the way your body moved against him, especially your tits, that just so happened to be right in front of his face.

His eyes now fixed on yours, almost asking you for permission to touch you more. The moment you give him a reassuring nod, his hands reach up to cup your chest, his thumb flicking over your delicate nipples, still watching you take control over him. The stretch of his cock inside you felt wonderful, you were sure you weren’t going to last long. But given the way Ino was like right now, you were definitely lasting more than him.

His hands fall back down your hips, gripping your hot skin tightly, as he tries to keep up with your frantic pace. His eyes are fixed on you, with a burning intensity, babbling complete and utter nonsense to you. His cock pulses inside you, threatening to spill over at any moment.

“Do you think you could last a little longer for me baby?” you ask him almost out of breath, using his shoulders to keep you stable, as you continue moving against him.

“Y-yes ma’am,” he whines. He’s telling you yes but shakes his head no, looking up at you with those big brown eyes again. He was so close, he could barely handle it anymore. His hips continue to meet your movements, struggling to hold back his release.

“Just a little longer baby..” you hold on to him tighter, squeezing on to his biceps as you feel yourself getting closer and closer. “M-m trying..” he responds to you with urgency in his voice. Eyes still pleading with you to let him cum deep inside you. His fingers dig into your ass, pulling you down harder onto him with every thrust.

His cock twitches and throbs inside you, the urge to fill you up now more than he can resist. He looks at you one more time, eager for your permission. Before you could even whisper yes, hot spurts of thick cum shoot inside you as you both orgasm in sync. He empties himself completely inside you before collapsing onto you. Strong hands still envelope you as his head buries itself into your chest. And all he can do is thank you as he tries to catch his breath.

Masterlist

Discord

[osaemu]

GOJO SATORU: ❛❛ SHE GOT MY HEARTBEAT SKIPPIN' DOWN 16TH AVENUE! ❜❜

.ೃ࿐ streamer!au: he's always so confident and self-assured, but a couple kisses from you and he turns into a mess.

contents: fem!reader. kinda suggestive ending (inumaki's comment). you spend half the fic making out lolll anyways we love flustered gojo he's so precious <3 tagging @rinniessance and @rizsu to see streamer!gojo's latest shenanigans :3

author's note: this one was requested and i rly liked the idea sooo yea. i wrote it. shocking right?! anyways thank u guys for all the streamer!gojo requests, saves me the effort of having to think of plots ꨄ︎

"baby, what time is it?" satoru mumbles against your lips, holding you in place on his lap. the two of you are seated on his plush chair in front of his computer, and you've been kissing like teenagers for the last... hour? or two?

satoru tilts his head in to kiss you again, soft lips gently pressing against yours for the thousandth time. his hands roam over your body, and one rests on your waist while the other reaches around you into your back pocket. his eyes flutter open when he feels your phone, and he turns his head briefly to sneak a glance at the time.

"shit, i gotta start the stream in two minutes," satoru mutters. he gives you a quick kiss on the cheek and leans back, azure eyes drinking in your heated cheeks and fluttering eyes. a smug smile slowly grows on his lips as you look away. 

"aw, d'you want more?" he cooes, reaching out and touching the side of your face. satoru gently pushes your face back in his direction, moving his slender fingers to your chin and holding it in place. you're all sweet and flustered in the aftermath of your makeout session, and every time he sees you like this, another part of his heart surrenders itself to you.

you nod bashfully, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear as you feel satoru's grip on your chin tighten. he pulls you in for another long, minty kiss, and you feel him smile against your lips. his hand moves from your chin to the back of your neck as he hugs you against his chest, which rises and falls in sync with yours.

"you're so cute," he murmurs in between kisses, eyes flickering back and forth from you to the time. "c'mon, honey, we have a minu—"

you cut him off with another kiss, which catches him off guard—usually he's the one leaning in. but no, you had to take him by surprise and throw him off his game. the little hm? that slips out of his lips when you kiss him causes satoru to go redder than you've ever seen him. 

seeing satoru embarrassed is rare—he's so cocky and confident that embarrassment is basically unheard of, but in this moment, you've got him. he laughs nervously when you pull away, wide eyes looking everywhere but at you and your cheeky smile.

you reach up and grab his chin, tugging it in your direction the same way he did earlier. "you know exactly what you're doing," satoru mumbles, pulling you closer and burying his face into your neck. 

"i have no idea what you're talking about," you reply smugly, kissing the side of his face. "don't you have a stream to be starting soon?"

satoru looks up instantly and groans when he sees the time—it's a minute past his start time, and that could cost him a couple hundred viewers. you laugh as you hop off his lap and into his bed, curling up under his sheets as you watch him scramble to start the live. 

"love you, 'toru," you call, wrapping your arms around one of his pillows. 

after a second, he turns around, a loading sign on his screen. "love you too, baby," satoru replies, face still noticably red. you blow him a kiss and watch as he pretends to faint in an attempt to hide his childish grin.

a soft ding then signals him that he's about to be live, so satoru spins his chair around to face his computer. he forces his usual collected smile onto his face and starts, "hey, everyone. sorry for the delay, just got... held up with something."

inumaki: u look like a tomato LMAO

yuuji-itadori: yea ur really red, are u ok?

satoru looks away, mumbling something about how it's just the lighting that's making his face look red. naturally, everyone disagrees and starts speculating as to why he seems off his game today, and eventually, someone gets it.

megumi-fushiguro: he always looks like that everytime he sees his gf wdym

inumaki: WAIT THATS IT

inumaki: he was def doin unspeakable things with his gf just two seconds ago. trust

you can't suppress the small laugh that escapes your lips when satoru stumbles over his words at the comments, face redder than ever. "a-anyways, today i'm gonna— hold on," he cuts himself off by looking down at his phone, where a text notification from you had popped up.

love of my life: ur so cute :(

love of my life: but get ur shit together 

love of my life: im the only one who gets to see u like that (¬_¬)

[suxuru]

Thinking about ex bf! Suguru who, when he fucks you, feels like he’s making love to you. Sometimes, it makes you question if you’re still actually dating him. Sure, it screws with your head and emotions, making you wonder if you both still have feelings for each other… but that’s impossible, right? You called it all off for a reason

His big hand holding yours as he thrusts his fat cock into you, releasing soft pants and quiet groans whenever he feels you clench around him. You turn your head side to side, moaning and crying about the sheer size of him.

“Shh, princess, you can take it…” Suguru whispers before leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead, then your temples, then your nose, then your cheeks, and lastly, your lips. It’s so sweet and loving, he’s fucking you like he’s in love with you.

Your lips move in sync with Suguru’s, all while he slides his cock in and out of you, your juices paintings his length and you can feel his veins glide across your warm walls.

“Baby,” he grunts against your lips just before pulling away, his big hand squeezing yours as he feels his hips twitch. “‘M gonna cum, baby, you too?” And he asks that because he can still recognize the way your walls clench around him snug and tight, your breathing gets uneven, you sound just a tad whinier and your hand holds onto his with so much force.

“Mhm,” you nod, your eyebrows knitted together, and you’re looking down at where he and you connect.

“Aw, my sweet girl,” and Suguru says that so quietly you almost miss the way he says “my sweet girl.” With your cunt wrapped around his girth, he grunts and places his unoccupied hand on your cheek. “Cum with me, baby, you can do it.”

Suguru changes nothing with the way he moves his hips, and he’s talking to you just like he used to when you were still together. He swears he’s changed, swears that this time, it’s just a hookup ad it’s the last time, but you don’t miss the way he murmurs “I love you” when he comes undone, finishing right inside your warm pussy the exact same moment you do, his eyes landing and locking with yours and he doesn’t even think about looking anywhere else because there’s no prettier, lovelier side than the face of his sweet ex girlfriend. <3

[nereidprinc3ss]

please don't say you love me

in which fwb!spencer reid and fem!reader get into an argument about the nature of their relationship.

18+ (implied intimacy) warnings/tags: friends with benefits arrangement, it goes bad, reader is so clearly anxious avoidant, reader is so me-coded, self-loathing, difficulties with emotional intimacy, arguing, derek and penelope make an appearance woo, a little dramatic, no happy ending (a nereidprinc3ss first!) a/n: it happened guys I stopped writing for a few days and last night randomly was inspired to finish this fwb piece and it essentially turned into a vent and went a completely different direction than i thought it would but here we are!!! i hope you enjoy, I loved writing, ilysm

“Are you reading it? Did you get to the part yet?” You ask, buzzing as you peer around Spencer’s arm to see where he’s at in the book you’d handed him. Sometimes you think it takes him longer to flip the pages than to read them. 

He doesn’t answer, but you see the flickering quirk of his lip like something is amusing him. It’s been a few minutes and he’s maybe halfway through. He has to have seen it by now. 

You’re clinging to his arm, eyes darting pointlessly between the text and his face, searching for a reaction. It comes in the form of a furrowed brow, a disbelieving smile, and something between a barking laugh and an exclamation of, “what?”

“You read it?”

His eyes narrow and he flips back a page, taking a bit longer to reevaluate. 

“Our moans and grunts drowned out the screams of the dead and dying only a few hundred feet away.”

You giggle furiously, clapping a hand to your mouth when you snort, and you feel Spencer’s focus shifting to you, even with your eyes screwed shut. 

“And you read this whole series?”

At that you sober up some, still hiding the bottom half of your face and brows drawn sorrowfully as mirthful tears well. You’re slow to admit your guilt with a nod, and his expression is somewhere between horror and fascination. 

Your cheeks heat and you cover your face, laughing again and shaking your head shamefully as he ridicules you. 

“Why? Why would you do that to yourself? I don’t even know if I can be seen in public with you, that’s—” he’s haphazardly tossed the book back on its display table and grabbed your wrists, pulling gently and laughing too. “No, show me your face. This is—you need to explain yourself. This is unforgivable.” 

“No! I swear it was a morbid curiosity, I didn’t like it, I’m sorry! I—”

“Reid?”

You both freeze. 

It’s not the most dignified position, admittedly—hidden among the shelves in a bookstore, pressed too close to be friendly, his hands around your wrists. 

So you don’t mind when he drops them like hot potatoes and gives you a few inches of breathing room. 

“Hey! Uh—you’re—”

Spencer is looking between you and two other people at the end of the aisle—a quirky bespectacled blonde in a flouncy polka-dot dress and her taller companion, ripped and head shaved, sporting some impressive eyebrows. Right now they’re conspicuously raised—his eyes are also pinballing between you and Spencer. 

For a moment, everyone is just sort of… looking at each other. 

It’s a little bit… awful?

Finally Spencer clears his throat. 

“Um, what are you guys doing here? Just… looking at books?”

Something is off, and you feel like shrinking or running, but you just stay glued to your spot. 

In sync, they hold up copies of the same book—and it takes you not a second to place the author’s name, in imposing red font at the bottom like it’s important. Rossi. 

The pieces click into place. These must be Spencer’s co-workers—Penelope and Derek, if his descriptions of the team have served you well. Part of you is starstruck. Part of you is embarrassed. They’re clearly shocked to see Spencer with a girl in the wild, so you know he hasn’t told them about you—and why should he, you think, why should he tell his friends about the girl he’s been sleeping with for months now? 

Finally, the blonder half of the duo speaks. 

“You’re—this is a girl. That’s. Who is that? Hi! Who are you?”

She’s literally pointing at you, eyes drifting between you and Spencer like it just doesn’t make any sense. Derek gives her a look and gently pushes her hand down. 

“Hey. That’s enough.” Then he offers you a polite smile, though you sense a bit strained, and his eyes too keep wandering back to the man next to you. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“No, no! You’re not… interrupting…” Spencer trails off and you sense he’s looking at you and gauging a reaction but you’re just smiling idly at his friends and waiting for this to be over. He finally thinks to introduce you by name, and you offer a shy wave and a smile to your new acquaintances. 

Penelope points (that damn finger again) but this time it’s less accusatory, and stays below chin level. 

“Cool shirt. I love that band,” she offers genially. Your brows raise and you look down, trying to remember what shirt you’d tossed on before leaving Spencer’s apartment an hour ago. 

“Oh! Thanks,” you smile, and you’re relieved to mean it this time. 

Another frosty silence begins to descend, but Derek doesn’t let it settle so much this time, to everyone’s satisfaction. 

“Alright, well. It was nice to meet you. Enjoy your date.”

There’s too much weight on the last sentence, and Derek gives Spencer a eyebrows-raised-meaningfully look you don’t understand. You’re just glad Spencer keeps his mouth shut and doesn’t immediately insist that it’s not a date, because it’s not, and that’s fine, but the vehement denial would bum you out. 

The pair walk away in the kind of clenched silence that means they’ll start fervently whispering as soon as they are out of ear shot. You watch their retreating figures and chew your lip, sensing that the carefree and playful energy of five minutes ago will have evaporated by the time you turn back to face your companion. 

“Strange,” you murmur, mostly to yourself, and you’re slightly jarred when Spencer replies from beside you. 

“Which part?”

All of it. 

Turning to face him, you smile, and it doesn’t reach your eyes but it doesn’t need to. 

“Oh—nothing, sorry.”

For a moment, he doesn’t respond, only stares at a point somewhere above your head and narrows his eyes like he’s thinking unpleasant thoughts. 

“Was I an asshole, to you, just now?”

It’s unexpected. You don’t have an answer prepared, so you say something that feels like a lie because you can’t prove that it’s not the truth. 

“I don’t think so. Why?”

“I just… I don’t know. I get weird around them, sometimes. I don’t always know what to say, like, when my personal life and my work life intersect, because for a long time I didn’t really have a personal life. And I think they still think I don’t know how to talk to girls, so…”

“You don’t know how to talk to girls,” you remind him. “Let’s go look at the puzzles.”

Maybe you spend too much time with Spencer Reid. Maybe that’s the problem—too long in his presence and he’s eating away at your neural tissue like you’ve got cysticercosis and he’s the T. solium (a terrible thing he had explained to you a few weeks ago.)

Maybe you need a break from him, to stop breathing his air and sleeping in his bed and wearing his clothing, because you’re forgetting that he’s not the entire world and that is a very bad thing to forget in a situation like yours. The entire world cannot be the size of his apartment. 

But you also just like him so much. As a friend, of course. That goes without saying. You like his strange sense of humor, and the way he lights up when you ask him an obscure question. You like your legs across his lap while you watch his old shows. You also like being kissed by him, and hugged by him. You like being taken care of like no one has ever taken care of you, and you like the way he always touches you, soft and kind and so on purpose. 

You never meant to like him so much. 

This affection—it has grown, insidious and parasitic, and now that it’s been pointed out to you like a lump in your side, it’s impossible to ignore. 

What you and Spencer have works precisely because you’ve kept things platonic and casual. That way, there’s no worrying about emotional baggage or arguing about feelings because there are none to be found and no precedent that any such things should or need to occur. You can’t hurt each other’s feelings if your feelings aren’t on the table. 

So why can’t you stop thinking about earlier?

Why can’t you help caring that he’s been keeping you a secret from the people he loves most?

“So, essentially the book is his first deep dive into meta-fiction. It was pretty revolutionary at the time, and while not his most celebrated novel, I’d argue it was his most relevant and culturally pervasive. I’d actually love to hear your interpretation of the story—it’s truly different for everyone. It’s a little like… like a literary Rorschach test. Do you wanna borrow it?”

You’re a tangle on his bed—arms, legs, sheets—it’s hard to tell where you end and he begins. All you’re sure of is his hand, tracing his fingers in chaste lines, feather-light up and down your inner thigh in the way he knows you like. Usually it’s so soothing you melt and fall asleep within minutes. Right now it’s only stoking some sparking electrical fire in your chest—the buzzes and bursts from which have you on edge. Ready to cave in at any second. You wish you could relax. You’ve been trying.

Spencer is in no hurry for you to respond, and so doesn’t seem to mind when it takes you a long while to find your answer. 

“I think I need to go home.”

It comes out too scratchy, as you haven’t really spoken for several hours. Not as casual as you were going for. He angles his head down toward you and his hand stops and you realize it’s actually worse like that. 

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah! Everything is fine, I just… I wanna sleep in my own bed tonight, I think.”

It’s late and you shouldn’t be making him drive you across town, but he’s always amenable to what you want. This is the longest you’ve ever stayed at his place, after all—a rare long weekend—and before that a few weeks had passed with no cases to speak of, during which time you’ve been staying with him more and more. Spencer seems to be completely content letting you eat his food and use his shower if it means you don’t leave. 

“I know the feeling well,” he admits, and your heart twinges with the care he takes to not bump or bend you or pull your hair as he shifts. He’s already been out of bed, and so is more dressed than you. Really, most people on the planet are more dressed than you, and you pull his nice sheet higher up your chest as he sits on the edge of the mattress, looking down at you and with a sort of worry in his eyes. He finds your knee through the fabric. “Are you sure you’re okay? You’ve been quiet.”

Stop paying such close attention, you want to tell him. And in the same breath, please don’t ever look away. 

“I’m… good.”

It is easily the least convincing performance of your life. Either you’re self sabotaging or you want him to push you further, and you don’t know which is worse. 

When his brow ramps just the slightest bit, you know you’ve fumbled it. 

“I don’t believe you.”

You shrug. “I don’t need you to.” And then you sit up, still holding the sheet to your chest. “Can you hand me a shirt?”

Enough clothing has accumulated around the room recently that he could pretty much reach out in any direction and find something for you to wear.  He grabs a sweatshirt hanging from the bedpost and holds it out for you, and you pull it over your head, before dropping your feet onto the cool wooden floor and grabbing the first bottoms you see—a pair of floral pajama shorts. How have so many of your clothes ended up at his apartment?

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

You scoop your bag up from a chair and flit around the room, haphazardly stuffing away discarded clothing to take back home. It’s true that it’ll be nice to get back to your stuff—your shower products and your closet and your silk pillow cases. You shouldn’t be spending so much time here. It’s not your space and you’ve been sacrificing your own needs to be closer to him, which is something you’d rather not do for any man. 

“You can drive me home. I’ll send you gas money.”

“You don’t need to send me gas money,” he says, tacking your name on to the end of the sentence in a way that raises your hackles instantly. 

“Yeah, I do. You drive me around constantly. I’ll pay you back and start taking the metro, or something.”

“I don’t want your money,” he scoffs. 

“Fine. Then I’ll call a car.”

“That’s unnecessary. I’m happy to drive you.”

“Why?”

Silence hangs. Spencer has by this point stood up, and he’s watching you with a furrowed brow and slightly parted lips like he doesn’t understand where this animosity has come from. Honestly, you’re not entirely sure either. You didn’t realize you were harboring so much of it. 

“Am I supposed to see you as an inconvenience?”

“I’m not your responsibility.”

“No. You’re not. We have a relationship and I don’t mind doing things for you.”

“You’re not my boyfriend.”

You didn’t mean to say it, but you sure as hell were thinking it. 

It feels good to say, like stretching a sore muscle beyond its limits or pressing into a bruise until you get past the ache. Sometimes when things hurt, it’s best to feel the pain and move on. 

He looks absolutely perplexed, the lines between his brows only ditching deeper. 

“Is that what this is about?”

“Oh my god, Spencer, no, I don’t care—”

“Because earlier at the bookstore I asked you if I was being an asshole and—”

“I do not give a fuck about earlier at the fucking bookstore!”

It’s too late to be yelling, but he doesn’t scold you. He just sort of looks at you, like you’re something mildly unpleasant. It makes you feel worse. 

A long moment goes by. 

“Fine. I’ll take you home.”

You let him brush past you, nothing more than a breeze on your shoulders as he disappears from the darkened bedroom. For a moment, you can’t follow him. All you can do is stand there and try to contain that sour, stinging, crying feeling in your eyes and nose because there’s no reason for you to be crying right now. 

From the living room, he calls, rather abrasively, “Are you coming?”

“Yes,” you huff, and it is as wavering as it is insolent, so obviously the only word holding back a full-fledged deluge of tears. 

One minute. One minute to sniffle and take deep breaths and wipe abashedly under your eyes because you refuse to be dramatic about this. Refuse to get over-emotional. You will not let it matter this much to you. 

When you decide you can show your face without making a scene, you march out of his bedroom and straight past where he’s leaning against the kitchen counter, keys in hand, to the front door. 

He doesn’t move. You burn smoking holes into the dark wood of the door with your eyes, and the two of you are apparently at an impasse. 

“I’m ready,” you eventually snap, always the impatient one between the two of you, casting a sharp glance over your shoulder. 

“I’m not.”

“You said you would—”

“I know what I said,” Spencer cuts you off and shuts you up, “and I changed my mind. I’d prefer to talk about it before I take you home.”

By the time he finishes the sentence you’re already wrestling your phone from the depths of your bag in search of a ride sharing app. 

“Okay, well I’m done talking because I don’t think there’s anything to talk about, so—”

“No, you’re done talking because this is what you do. You can never admit it when you want something because that would mean acknowledging that you’re a human being with emotions, and that’s too scary for you.”

Surely you misheard him. You turn around, a deep frown contorting your features. 

“Excuse me?”

He only looks at you in that expectant, knowing way of his. 

“It’s too scary so you run away. You’d rather burn your relationships to the ground and rebuild them with a new person every time than actually let someone in.”

“You don’t know me!” You yell.

“Do you actually think that’s true?” Spencer says, pushing off his perch against the counter, voice shrilling and raised slightly as he gets visibly agitated. “You think I’ve spent hours upon hours with you and I don’t know you at all?”

“You have no idea what I’m like in a relationship because this isn’t one. You have no fucking idea what I want, so do not presume to,” you seethe. 

“You want a relationship. You wanted my friends to know you and you didn’t tell me that because you’re fucking terrified of the fact that I do know you. You can’t stand the idea that regardless of how many times you tell yourself it’s just sex, you have been vulnerable with me, and you’ve told me things you’ve never told anyone before, like why your last three relationships really ended, and how you constantly self-sabotage when you’re on the verge of getting what you want because you think you don’t deserve it.”

“Shut up!”

“No. I’m not just going to let you walk away from me like you did everyone else who could’ve ever cared about you because I know once you walk out that door you’ll stop responding to my calls and texts and I’ll never see you again, which is a juvenile pattern and completely unsustainable if you don’t want to keep pushing people away for the rest of your life!”

“God, Spencer, stop!” You sob, staggering back like you’ve been stabbed. 

The urgency, the raw, desperate scratch of your voice, stops him in his tracks. 

Every place an arrow penetrated a chink in your armor aches, and it hurts so much worse because he knew exactly where they were. You don’t know when or how it happened, but he’s right. Despite your most valiant efforts, Spencer Reid knows you. Somehow he crept in and grew over every limb like ivy. It’s crawled over your feet and up your legs and it’s keeping you there, rooted in place in his apartment, sobbing silently into the crook of your arm because you feel utterly paralyzed with fear. 

Just as he’d said. 

It’s silent for a long stretch of time, unquantifiable the same way the distance between the beach and the horizon is unquantifiable. It’s sprawling and infinite and desolate. The only relief from the drowning quiet is the occasional gulp of air or gasp from you which furthers your humiliation. 

“I’m sorry,” Spencer finally whispers, soft and unsure like rays of weak sunlight over staggered tides, in the grey morning after a raging storm. It’s an attempt. It’s earnest and afraid. 

The energy radiating off of him is so tangible that you can sense his desire to come near. To hold you. But that would be your worst nightmare come to fruition. This—this warbling and crying in front of him in silence in his dark apartment is god-awful enough. But to be comforted? For him to bear witness up close and personal to your humility and your ugly, jagged pieces—that inspires true catatonia. That is everything he said you were afraid of, and he was right. 

You resent your human nature, and the fact that you care how his friends look at you and that it stung when they did so with little more than apathy. You hate that you care that he hasn’t told them about you. You hate that you feel so unimportant—because more than anything, you want to be fine with being unimportant. 

You want to be fine. Constantly. 

You hate that you feel. You hate that you care. 

But you always have. And so fucking deeply. 

Somehow, Spencer Reid is the only one who has ever noticed. 

Eventually, his self-restraint snaps and he surges forward at the same time as you take a shuddering inhale and step back. 

“Please don’t touch me,” you whisper. Afraid that if he did, his fingers would only sink into your flesh like decaying fruit. That you would disintegrate in his hands, and he’d finally see you’d been rotten the whole time. 

He speaks softly, holding his hands up to show you he’s not a threat. 

“Okay. I won’t. I’m sorry.”

“I need to go home.”

“I’ll—”

“No. I don’t want a ride. I’ll get a car.” You speak quietly. Efficiently. There’s no point in pretending this doesn’t feel catastrophic anymore. 

His brows furrow. Like a moth to flame, like he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it, he draws nearer again. 

“I’m not comfortable with you on the street at this hour.”

“I’ll wait in the lobby,” you insist, pleading, a wounded animal, because he doesn’t seem to understand how every casual notion of kindness is a violence, how he’s ripping into you and making it so you’ll never be able to put yourself back together. He can’t be kind like you’re easy to be kind to. 

If you’re easy to be kind to, you are just as easy to hurt. Accepting that kindness is a sort of vulnerability you feel you can’t afford right now. 

Another moment of silence, of stillness, as if you’re both bolted to the ground where you stand. 

When he speaks it’s a blow to the chest because you’ve made him cry too. 

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, quietly, and a venomous self-hatred drips down your throat. Because you’re doing it again.

Maybe this is all you will ever be. 

You fail to stifle a sob and Spencer steps closer still, saying your name desperately and so quietly like it’s his last rite. 

And you try. You try harder than you ever have to stay in one place, to get a hold of your vibrating and to swallow all those slithery feelings and ignore every alarm telling you to panic when he reaches out to touch your arm because it’s never safe to let people in. But when his hand finally brushes you, it’s like a cow prod. You jolt backward. 

“I can’t, I’m sorry,” you whisper all in one harrowed breath, and there’s so much you’d like to say—you’re right, about everything, you do know me, you know what I want, I tried, I’m ashamed—but none of it matters. None of it is enough. He’s backed you into a corner of your own making, and the only way out is by pushing him aside even if it hurts you both. 

So you don’t say anything else. You leave him there, in the dark of his own apartment, and you disappear down the hall. 

Maybe this is all you will ever be.