#it’s very early on so maybe there will be something done with this concept but I doubbbt it. I would be very pleasantly surprised | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kaisentine · 26 days ago

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݁ ִ ۫ ⸺ ❝ 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐎𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔　.ᐟ　❞

⌗ ⸺ ❝ 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘰 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯’𝘵 . . ! ❞ the one thing you dread the most is your friends overanalyzing and hyping you up all because of a simple interaction with your crush—so annoying! ft. michael kaiser, itoshi sae, shidou ryusei, nagi seishiro, & oliver aiku general cw. just idiots in love, reader is so deep into denial it’s infuriating, highschool au, shidou, fem reader . . . ( MY BAD ) sticky-note i think i just yapped my brains out with this one ( what’s new! ). bomb idea, explosive writing! NAWT PROOFREAD

sticky note. BAEE 😁 thought of this cuz i was also doing snapstreaks

𐔌 . 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐄𝐋 𝐊𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐑 is apparently so into you because . . . ❝ he snaps you in the morning ! ❞

your friend seems way more excited than you are. it’s way too early for her to already be geeked out at you opening kaiser’s snap for streaks. “i don’t get it,” you say as you open the image—he’s still at home even though most students are already in their respective classes, it’s the side of his face and really nothing special ( if you didn’t like him ). “he’s the epitome of ‘i don’t snap til i’m done with training.” she explains further yet you still don’t understand why she’s pointing it out. “does that quote even exist?” you ask, she’s off with your phone to observe the very thought out ( not really ) photo and shoves your phone into your face with her manicured finger pointing something out. “never mind that! look!” she has effectively made your brain’s circuit cut short because you don’t understand. you grab her wrist to control the distance so you can actually see. why is she pointing at his hair? “what am i looking at?” you voice your exact thoughts. “not tryna be mean to your crush or whatever, but it’s clear he has bed head!” she exclaims, attempting to remove your hand from her wrist, “there’s a reason he only snaps after training . . .” she ends in a murmur. “ha-ha, very funny. i still don’t get it.” you fake laugh at her sly comment and finally surrender her arm—letting it drop. “he hates people seeing him in the morning because of that,” she contemplates saying what she is just about to say—when has she ever done that? “maybe he wants to be the first man you see in the morning, that’s why!” she giggles, and your jaw drops; that is the biggest stretch she has ever came up with! “are you a lunatic?!? the last thing i’d want to do is show him me in the morning . . . he probably hates me!” this reaction of yours wasn’t what you friend wanted to get out from you. she was expecting to see a gleam of hope in your eyes but instead she’s met with a gloss of panic.

actually, your friend was spot on—he snaps you in the morning because he wants to be the first man you see in the morning. the strategy isn’t as effective as he would like it to be because despite the fact he has a pretty reasonable schedule like how he sleeps 7 hours every night, he only knocks out at about 2 am. he’s probably more effective at being late for school if anything. however, he’d rather you see him as at least one of the first males you see at such an ungodly time with ungodly bed head than you seeing him rush into the classroom because he’s late for the first time you glance at his ( glorious ) face that day. the man also decides he’s way too good for the stupidly cute filters you can find on the app so those are out of question—random wall photos are too. gets ness to hype him up and then chastises him if you don’t even look his way.

sticky note. i feel like this is a stupid reason but it’s such a funny concept

𐔌 . 𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐈 𝐒𝐀𝐄 is apparently so interested in you because . . . ❝ he ate a fry . ❞

your friend is dead serious but you’re just looking at her like ‘oh you actually serious?’. “sorry, what?” you bring your ear closer to her mouth in hopes you probably just misheard what she said. “he. ate. a. fry.” she repeats—nope she is definitely not joking with you. “i don’t see how sae eating a fry relates to him liking me,” you start deadpanning at her attempt at convincing you itoshi sae likes you—she sucks at this! she cocks a brow and gives you a dirty look, “i have a theory you might not actually like him . . . God that man hates fries.” she shudders at the thought. “they were the fries you brought!” she adds on, quickly regaining her composure from pure terror. “okay . . . yeah but it was one singular—not plural—fry, are you okay?” yes, you have a point, it was one fry, and now you’re concerned for you friend. she raises her hands up in surrender while sighing like she was just defeated—have you finally tamed the hostile creature? nope. there’s a sudden stupid smirk on her face that looks straight-up devious, “and plural—not singular—reasons why he is sooo interested!” she elongates and dramatizes the ‘so’, and you mentally slap yourself to make up for the stupidness you can feel radiating off her words. “i can never win with you, can i?” you ask but the answer is already clear—you cannot.

yup, sae hates fries, dearly—that isn’t some kind of secret because he is pretty open about it. once even telling you friend to . . . “fuck off,” when she thought it was a good idea to offer him the stick of pure deliciousness ( hence why she gets shivers thinking about it ). he doesn’t care about a lot of things like how he doesn’t bother himself with keeping most things private or public because he simply just does not give a flying shit. neither does he really care if he makes his feelings clear or not—mixed signals king! sure, he likes you but that doesn’t stop him from being nonchalant. the only time he’ll make openings are in soccer and anything other than that—he just lets it happen. that means if he is given a chance to ‘make a move’ and it’s served on a silver platter without him needing to excerpt any more effort? he’ll take it. if he isn’t, he waits for the next time. but that man doesn’t know anything about feelings so he thinks eating something you brought is making a move.

sticky note. this man is a FREAK but he’s a simple guy promise

𐔌 . 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐃𝐎𝐔 𝐑𝐘𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐈 is apparently so downbad for you because . . . ❝ he said ‘if i was a velociraptor, i’d eat y/n first’ ? ! ❞

your friend reads off her phone and accidentally pushes her desk towards your chair. “HUH?” you’re just as surprised as your friend is—shidou ryusei actually said that? “you have to look at this,” she states and smacks you in the face with her phone ( deja vu WHO ), it’s the school’s blog and the post is exactly what she just said. “that’s just . . . i mean—what?” you find it quite hard to comprehend what you were reading because what do you mean the weird guy you like posted that? “is that edited?” you ask for confirmation—you literally can’t believe it. she clicks the profile and it is him, you feel your face flush when you’re bombarded with images of him. “i get it! i get it!” you bark and swat her hand away, “whydoievenlikehim—“ you mutter before covering your eyes like you just saw something so distasteful. “girl, i don’t know . . . but he totally likes you,” she shrieks, turning off her phone so such madness is no longer seen. you aren’t entirely buying it, “i doubt it, if i was some kind of carnivorous animal, i wouldn’t eat the guy i like—at all!” you say with a frown on your face. she looks at you, looking even more horrified at what you just said to her. “his thinking process is probably out the window, y’know? he probably just means he wants you to be with him forever!” “in his stomach? no thanks.”

what makes you think shidou ryusei is okay in the head in the slightest? if he likes someone—he makes it so obvious! he doesn’t second guess his words, much less his online posts so as soon aas he was done typing out the words, he clicked post almost immediately. doesn’t regret it one bit. his eyes land anywhere but sae? that is truly a feat . . .

sticky note. does this even happen. also nagi really likes sleeping

𐔌 . 𝐍𝐀𝐆𝐈 𝐒𝐄𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐎 is apparently so desperate for you because . . . ❝ he sleeps on your shoulder . ❞

your friend is referring to the multiple times your crush has decided to accidentally fall asleep on your shoulder. “so . . .” you urge her to elaborate her point further than she already has. “and he only does it when he’s next to you,” she discerned, whipping out photo evidence in the form of a printed piece of paper. it’s really nothing too special—just the two of you sitting next to each other on the waiting lounge’s couch, waiting for your guys’ turn for the school’s mandatory medical check-up. he looks quite comfortable, arms crossed and manspreading ( 😭 ) but his head is rested on your shoulder—sleeping. “. . .why’d you print it,” you gasp at such an absurd action to prove a point and you quickly rip the paper out of her hands, “you’re insufferable.” you shake your head in disappointment. “a girl gotta do what she gotta do, y’know! how much more obvious does he need to be???” ugh, she’s being so dramatic—he’s just sleeping on your shoulder. “he probably realized i . . .didn’t mind so he doesn’t care,” you reject the idea. “you might be the insufferable one—why do you think he keeps doing it?” she says and you so want to side eye her but you aren’t going to turn sideways to do that because that is mad embarrassing. “i don’t know! he’s just some sleepy guy like,” you give her a pout before continuing, “. . .and people said that they feel sleepy around me.” you admit. “nah, they’re just saying you’re boring!” she giggles—did you not put that together? you playfully push her shoulder in annoyance. “but i’ll give you the answer—he wants to close to you, or in other words; he likes you!”

nagi is the type of lazy where he thinks it’s too much of a hassle to confess first but thinks making physical advancements don’t count. he can easily sleep anywhere, honestly. he likes his sleep but he loves good sleep and you just feel like a good person to sleep on so he decides to try it—and he’s right. he did do it accidentally the first time, it was on his mind but he really didn’t mean to! sleep just drenched his eyes and he was out cold—on your shoulder. there, he decides he likes you more than just a comfy pillow to doze off on.

sticky note. i feel like reader is very justified LMFAO. yk i have a friend who has more than a mu or a situationship but aren’t dating and she said he longest more than friends but not not dating was like 4 years

𐔌 . 𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐈𝐊𝐔 aiku is apparently so smitten for you because . . . ❝ girl, he confessed . . . ❞

your friend resists the overwhelming urge to bitch-slap you because you long-pressed your dms with him. the message wasn’t some kind of special confession just a simple ‘hey i know we just started talking but i think i’m inlove with you’ God reading that made you cringe. “yeah nope, not buying it.” you know he probably knows you saw it because of that stupid green dot on your profile but his message is still left on delivered. “why not?” she asks, “he knows you’ve read it, why edge him?” she pulls out her phone from her bag and faces her back towards you. “what are you doing . . ?” you’re honestly scared what she’s planning because even though you could also just stand up and look over her shoulder—she’d run out of the classroom and disappear. “texting someone,” she says while she’s rapidly typing out something, her shoulders shaking. “i don’t like the sound of that,” you refer to the hidden underlining of her tone, “you’re scaring me—ugh—whatever. i just started texting him, he barely knows me, he’s probably had 4 girlfriends in the span of 5 months—what makes me any different?” like—not trying to degrade yourself but you’re worried that he’s just going to play you too. “if he does, i’ll break his heart!” she says in resolve, doing the cliche moment of lifting up a fist and you giggle at her. there’s a quick buzz from your phone and it’s from the girl in-front of you, “what’s this?” you raise an eyebrow, clicking the notification pop-up. “just read it,” okay . . . if she insists. dot. dot. dot. there’s invisible crickets going off in your head. “is this from sendou?” “uh-huh.”

unbeknownst to you, your friend was actually texting her situationship ( of like 8 months LMFAO )—sendou shuto to ask him about oliver’s confession since they’re friends and all. ‘aiku n y/n? oh yeah he’s totally smitten man, i ain’t never seen aiku talk about a girl like he does w her’ is the message she forwarded to you that let the crickets rip! no but seriously, he normally has cycles like when he’s with one girl but then breaks up with her because he got eyes for another but now he promises that he only wants you!

bonus on why reo likes you because i might not be writing as much as i did this week because of school :p

mikage reo ⸺ ❝ he bought your entire christmas wishlist . . . ❞

#ᥫ᭡ love note #i’m lowk that friend #YOLO #bllk #blue lock #bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #itoshi sae x reader #sae x reader #michael kaiser x reader #kaiser x reader #shidou ryusei x reader #shidou x reader #nagi seishiro x reader #nagi x reader #seishiro x reader #oliver aiku x reader #aiku oliver x reader #aiku x reader

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vatelixx · 5 months ago

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On the concept of ‘want’,

Spencer Reid x afab!BAU!reader (written with early-ish seasons Spencer in mind)

SMUT!! (and fluff, and aftercare because im not a total hedonist), allusions to both Spencer and Reader being switches (but he’s mostly just down bad), autistic Spencer (the way it should be), mean reader (to everyone but him), reader has a very very high IQ when it comes to everything but a pretty genius— Spencer just wants that cookie so fucking bad.

Warnings: sub spencer (but also not entirely; he talks about human anatomy as he destroys her), maaaaaybe slight corruption kink (what? who wrote that there???), mentions of prior bullying and insecurity, first time (for Spencer, yess devirgin that hot nerd!!— do you think the BAU will get him a cake after?), brief mentions of past hypersexuality for reader, kinda rlly domestic. Some undertones of degradation but predominantly praise. Begging, crying (pussy so good he cried), etc etc

w.c: 5k (I feed)

a/n: Spencer’s first time getting fucked, my first time writing smut (we’re both going through it here). I’ve been watching too much Criminal Minds recently, so i’ve reverted back to my tumblr roots (im home i’m home). This is a new acc so like…. hi!!!

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Right person, right time. It’s a concept that Spencer Reid is more than aware of. Define luck, at surface level, it’s a made-up hypothesis, idealistic, fantastical. Conjured up to aid the desperate (or the delusional). It’s something he refused to humour, obstinate to the notion, well, that was until you came spitballing into his life, sharp features, sharper tongue. You could cut with your words alone, a weapon to the BAU, jagged and fast-thinking, and so entirely unattainable. Rorschach tests, and an endless sea of profilers, it doesn’t matter— he’s not sure anyone is ever capable of truly pinpointing you.

Rocky start— after you became a permanent member to the team, it took months to coerce you into dropping your guard. A year and 14 days, to be exact.

But, it was possible. Hardened words and blunt comments shifted into something more with time. A gravitational pull, perhaps, that led to evolution— you, softer with him, more tender than you’ve ever showcased before.

Maybe it was that night when he told you about highschool, about what they did to him, boys like him, who were too intellectual for their own good. Different, in every sense of the word. Bullying at such a young, impressionable age can have prominent effects, chronic stress inflicted on an underdeveloped brain, they tied him to goal posts, stripped him naked, endless torment that he still carries with him now. Maybe that’s why you lowered your defenses. Put down the sword.

And sure, he never expected anything, nor asked for anything. He was definite that he wouldn’t get to experience cliche-dating. Longing glances and anticipated moments. It’s not like he was ever the most appealing candidate, too nervous, too neurodivergent. It’s hard to grow out of the mentality that no, everyone isn’t making fun of you, not when it consumed the entirety of his adolescence. That you can walk into a room, and not be seen, targeted, as an outcast. He’s just different. But he’s also human, and the chemicals in his brain do make him want.

You apparently. Because, you looked at him softly once, and he was done. Ruined. Gone for good. Or, in Morgan’s personal opinion, whipped.

And illogically, you wanted him too. That wasn’t ever part of the equation.

But theres a pattern now— dates every weekend. Movies, cafes, museums, an endless onslaught of you. Because somehow, thanks to luck, you reciprocated. He’ll never understand why, you’re too beautiful (it’s a hazard), but he tries. He tries.

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December. A haze of christmas markets and blanketing coldness. You kiss him outside and he thinks he might be dying. You make him burn cold. He’s a logical person, so obviously he’s aware that he’s only freezing because your hands are shoved in his pockets, a desperate bid to seek warmth, but regardless, it’s more than he ever expected.

He laughs against your lips, fingers gripping the front of your coat as he draws you backwards so that you’re resting against a wall. “Mm..” he hums, “You should kiss me more often.”

Everyone knows. The entire team is aware of this, an unspoken agreement that your lingering moments and aimless touching are not platonic in the slightest. You work with profilers, secrets are never quite effective. Everyone knows, but it’s taboo, something that needs to be left undisturbed. Do they expect you to break him? Does he? Maybe, maybe it would be worth it— to hurt for you, because it’s always been you. He’ll take anything, he’s not greedy. He’ll live off scraps if he has to, anything to satiate this want that burns solely for you.

“Actually.. you should just always be kissing me,” he suggests, tone soft, “Every day of the week. All the time. And—“ he laughs, “You should also stop stealing body warmth. It’s rude. Hypothermia usually occurs when body temperature dips to around 95F, oh oh but there are so many factors to consider—“

“Is this you trying to imply you’re cold?” you ask.

“Perhaps. Or maybe i’m implying you should be working harder to warm me up.”

You’ve grown soft, he thinks. He shouldn’t be allowed to get away with this level of affection. But its okay, you justify, mostly because it’s him. Spencer, and his pretty smile, and strange habits (sitting cross legged on tables, drinking coffee with excessive sugar, endless facts and a plethora of soft yearning glances at you when you’re interrogating— as if you’re not tearing an unsub to pieces). It’s terrifying, constant eggshells, because you can’t hurt him. Not like the others, distant fragments of your past.

You laugh in response to his comment, admiring the sight of him: flushed, with swollen lips and dilated eyes. He deserves to be like this, so thoroughly assured that despite all odds, you’re invested. All cards on the table. “You have a lot of requests, boy genius.”

He smiles boyishly. You’re hard lines, sure, a blade that can draw blood, but somehow, somehow, he’s always left unscathed. “Alright,” he answers, “You want requests? Here’s one, stay the night. Come over, stay over, i’ll cook breakfast and try not to burn it— and, and you can have the good side of the bed.”

“Spence,” you mutter, because of course there’s an underlying intention to ‘staying over’ and you're trying to be good here. To not let this fall into your past mistakes of sex and inevitable self-inflicted disgust. A cyclical cycle that clings to your skin. Everything is so new to him, the intimacy, the affection, and it’s nice being able to witness it— to see his reactions to innocuous touches, always disbelieving that he’s capable of this.

Fresh-eyes, so untainted to the sharpness of modern ‘love’.

You cup his face, god, under the dim shadows of the streetlight he’s beautiful. It’s a little alarming to be honest. More so disheartening really, because despite how much you remind him, he never believes you— obstinately refusing your compliments, as if you’d ever mock him. No, he’s different. He’s tender and disarming, and sometimes it feels unholy to touch him with calloused hands.

But, to Spencer, there is nothing unholy to this; the second you touch him, the entire universe crashes down into a singular moment.

“Just stay the night,” he reaffirms. It’s taken him over a month to get to this point, to be able to voice his wants, to comprehend his wants. Now, his thumb traces its way down the side of your face, tangible, real. “And tomorrow morning, there’ll be coffee and pancakes and—“ he laughs, “And there won’t be any regrets. I promise.”

You’re looking at him, wide-eyed and slightly disbelieving (because he’s somehow stumbled through the minefield of you without any consequences). He leans forward, his forehead resting against yours. “Don’t make me beg. I will beg.”

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To confirm, he makes you incautious, irrational, willing to blatantly disregard any sort of control. Of course you end up at his apartment; the moment he mentioned begging, you were already half-way down the street.

Spencer’s place is… well, it’s everything you’d expect of him. Scattered novels adorning the floor, a mess of untidy thoughts, neglected papers on science, endless open textbooks left half-abandoned for other pursuits. It’s so him, clean but discombobulated.

He wants to apologize, make excuses for the lack of order, he probably should. He doesn’t do that though. He only crosses the room, stopping when he’s standing right in front of you, just gazing down. He has no idea what’s to come— for once, there are no patterns, no statistics he can reference.

So, he reaches for you, fingers tugging at the edges of your jacket. “Arms. Up,” he instructs and god, it’s a stupid order, but you follow it without any protest. He folds it over the couch, abandoned. Putting it back on alludes to leaving, and he’s hopeless enough to never want you to leave.

His hands then gravitate back to you and he starts to tug aimlessly at the material of your shirt. It’s been raining, and the fabric is soaked. “Hm,” he hums, “Off. Take it off.”

You laugh at that. Straight to the point. You don’t follow his orders, because one was certainly enough, and you’ve never been the type to obey blindly. Instead, you grip his waist, drive him back towards the nearest surface. An end table, some books go clattering, light damage, they’ll survive. His response is a gasp, a hitch of the breath.

“I was promised the good side of the bed, breakfast, pancakes. But sex? Hm, did you invite me over just to get in my pants? I’m wounded, Reid.” you mutter, pressing a series of soft kisses along the curvature of his jaw.

“No! No,” he retorts, breathless, “I was going to get you some comfortable clothes to change into. Damp clothes breed bacteria. You made this dirty,” Adding, “And not in the way I was concerned about.” under his breath.

You roll your eyes, “Oh, here we go—“ sure, you have the experience he lacks, but you’ve been on your best behavior. Dirty? That’s an insult to the exhausting self-restraint you’ve upheld recently.

“Yes— i’m the dirty one here, clearly.” you scoff, “Just casually corrupting you,” You tug him away from the end-table because you don’t want him bruised in any way, shape or form (it’s actually distressing; when you’re working, you seem hellbent on making sure no one even thinks about laying a hand on him. Unsubs be damned.)

Ego-centric, completely independent, individualistic until he came along.

You push him back against the couch, watching as he stumbles, as he falls. For a minute he just lies there, looking up at you with hazy eyes— pupils dilated and lips parted on a half-pained gasp.

And it’s a sight to see, the brilliant prodigy, the young genius, his normally-composed features now twisted into something stricken. His hands tighten around the material of the couch and he lets out a sound that’s a cross between a whine and a groan.

“Oh—“ that’s just a clear-cut moan, “You can definitely definitely keep corrupting me, in fact I endorse it. Completely.”

“3 PHDS, 2 B.A’s and you’re currently asking me to corrupt you? I don’t know, Doctor Reid, that’s certainly very forward,” you say, moving to sit on his lap, aware that you really should entertain this spot more often, even if you’re at severe risk of deflating.

Deflating. God. When did it come to this?

He laughs, “You’re the only person in this entire world that makes me act without a single coherent thought,” IQ abolished. “So yeah,” he murmurs, fingers tracing mindless patterns across the exposed strip of skin above your waistline. “Defini-definitively corrupt me.”

It’s taken so much to get to this point. So much to unpack, to understand, from Spencer’s perspective. There’s a lifetime of bullying that he has to dismantle, and sometimes he still anticipates the punchline when you kiss him— the biting laughs, not entirely dissimilar to school, when someone would belittle him, fake being his friend just for entertainment value.

So, when you stumble into the bedroom, when you remove his shirt, he knows this is improvement. He’s fighting this internal battle, unsure on how he should act: coy or defiant. Both, really. He wants to cover himself up, to pretend like you don’t disarm him, to fight and fight until you make him bleed. Anything, he’ll take anything from you.

“You are so so pretty,” you mutter when he’s sprawled out across the bed. You’ve never been someone to resort to praise; sex had always been cold and clinical, something to relieve stress, to undermine the burden of work, and the endless weight of sanguinary. But now? If he is the eye of the storm, then you’ll happily commit to the chaos of this.

“Careful, you’ll make me inherit a disorder here.” he mutters. Narcism— he’s the least likely to ever develop such symptoms. “Or cry. I could cry, it’s a potential. Maybe break-down?”

“Or,” he adds, his hands tracing up towards your shoulder blades. “All of the above. The trifecta of issues. It’s very likely.”

He rolls over on top, you’re down to just your lingerie now, pretty lace contrasting against your skin. Removing your clothes had been a whole ordeal, he’s fairly certain he almost died; you’re the epitome of beautiful, and he’s not sure how he ended up with everything when he was so resolute, silently accepting, he would always obtain nothing.

“I want to kiss you, but I don’t know, I feel like my body has lost the ability to function at the moment.” he breathes out.

“You should definitely kiss me,” you confirm, posing it as a choice, one that he has any say over— when in reality, youre already tugging him closer. Lips meeting lips. It’s not sane how the world fades into a nebulous haze the moment your mouths connect; time remains constant, logistically, nothing has changed. But it’s just so much that for a moment you doubt the concept of existence, doubt everything but him.

Genius falling for genius. Only you could laugh when he traces molecules into your skin. Spelling out words with elements: Livermorium, Uranium. LV U, it might not be an exact replica of the three worded phrase, but it certainly gets the point across.

“Spence—“ you bite into his lip, tugging the soft tissue between your teeth.

He groans, whimpers, pulls you closer, eliminating every infinitesimal distance between, slotting his hips against yours. He draws away from your mouth, lips leaving a trail of kisses down your neck as he reaches for your hand, interlocking his fingers with yours and pinning it against the bed. His free one is now wandering, slipping beneath your panties to touch.

“Do you know how much I studied about human anatomy after you first kissed me?”

“Weeks.” he answers when you respond with a muffled groan. Your hands are on his back now, tracing the journey of his spine. He’s in over his head, but there’s so much want, so much he wants to do but never thought he would be capable of. And oh, when he begins to draw circles against your clit, slow experimental halos, those soft touches of yours evolve into grasping, gripping. By the time he’s got a finger slotted inside, he’s fairly certain he’s being scratched. Nail indents and faint white lines, souvenirs.

“I know about every erogenous zone the human body possesses, every single one.” He says, because whilst he might lack in physical experience, he has enough intellect to memorize placement, biology. Plus, he’s a fast learner. His finger bends, and both of you moan.

“Spence— fuck, feels good.” you gasp, tangled hands clutching tighter, tighter again until your knuckles are white and you’re trembling.

The human body is something of a fascination to him; the way it reacts, how each nerve and ligament can respond to even the most tentative of touches. But you aren’t every human, you are you, and he has an insatiable desire to discover and catalog every single response your body gives.

He adds another finger, slowly, eyes fixed on your face, gauging the reaction. When he curls both digits, a sharp exhale is your response. “I’m convinced I’ve discovered new anatomy facts in the last few months, just because of you.”

Maybe it’s not fair that he’s so good. First times are supposed to be fumbling and awkward, a mess of hormones and inexperience. To say you haven’t been touched like this before is a severe understatement. The meaningless sex, the onslaught of bodies doesn’t measure up to him, the way he’s so focused on how you respond, on what your body enjoys— it would be endearing (and it is!), but you're currently too preoccupied to voice such a notion.

“Doing so good, holy shit—“ you mutter, blissed out beyond comprehension. You're making art on his back, only vaguely aware of the pain. Though when you realize you’ve scarred his skin, you're drawing away, moving to tangle your hand in his hair instead. But Spencer doesn’t even care, doesn’t even register the inflictions; he likes the physical marks you leave behind, a tangible remnant of all you do to him.

And sure, he’d laugh, usually, at your responses. But it’s hard to laugh, when his own ability to form any coherent sound has been completely destroyed. He’s a mess, his breathing shaky, and his brain is a constant buzz of fragmented musings consisting of you, you, you.

He draws his fingers out, earning a discernible groan, maybe a fuck you (which he does intend to do). But right now, he’s already slotting his face between your thighs, removing those soaked, ruined, panties of yours. He doesn’t have a single thing to compare it to. But he already knows this is his favorite place to be, and he’s fairly certain he’ll be spending most nights between your thighs, learning and memorizing every reaction and noise, each movement, and the ways to repeat them.

He runs his tongue along your clit, savoring just how wet you are, a mess that he can bury his face into. You’re looking down at him with something akin to shock now, and he can only laugh, blow air against your clit, then drag his tongue back over the sensitive bud, drawing it into his mouth to suck.

His movements are tentative at first, unpractised, but soon gaining confidence. He doesnt need to do this, you're aware— you could take him now. And yet, hes here, between your thighs for no reason other than want. Your reaction is visceral, because it’s always been about efficiency in the past, quick touches to get you there before the other person can derive their own pleasure from the act.

He’s not like that. God, hes not like that at all.

“Oh,” is all you can say, gripping his hair down to the root, instructing each movement until he gains incentive, finding repeat patterns that your body reacts to. Then, you can only arch and moan, noises filtered out into the air. He’s back to opening you up now, two deft fingers pressed inside, working diligently to tear you apart.

“Oh? That’s all you have to say to me? Oh?” he retorts.

“Shut up,” you huff, “Put that mouth of yours to work.”

“Mhm— I plan to. God, you’re so perfect.” he mutters, voice distorted, muffled. “That’s it—“ he fights the urge to explain exactly what’s occurring in your body every time his fingers abuse that spot. Instead, he keeps his mouth busy.

He’s certain he’s memorized most areas of your body from years of pining, and that’s what brings him an unrepentant sense of satisfaction. Because he was memorizing your body, you, long before he even got the chance to touch or taste you.

“Wanna stay here,” he says, and he’s being petulant now, because there’s something so good about being reduced to movements. To follow the pattern, to take care of your body, mindless to anything else but you. Pussy-drunk, to put it less eloquently.

“Shit,” you buck up against his mouth, watching as he buries his face entirely into you, as he replaces his fingers with his tongue, nose bumping bumping your clit, consuming his senses entirely.

“Use my face, yeah. ‘M all yours anyway.”

“Fuck, fuck fuck— Spence. Gonna cum—“

When you fall apart, inevitable, he doesn’t stop— not until you’re boneless and spent beneath him. Back arching, stars burning through closed eyes. Pretty constellations that have you blissed out beyond belief. The pleasure is white-hot, feverish in intensity.

And then he’s moving, shifting his body back over you. He’s all soft touches and languid kisses against your mouth, not bothering to break contact as he settles himself fully over you, the weight of his hips pressing into yours. He’s hard, dick pushing up against his boxers, his sexual libido had always been low until you came into his life. Now, his wants seem to fight for release constantly.

“My turn, I believe.” he grins, pressing a kiss to your jaw, “Not that you have to, of course. It’s not an obligation, uh— more so a beg?”

“Of course it’s an obligation,” he goes to protest, to say you don’t owe him anything, so you sigh. “A thankyou, maybe?”

Fumbling hands, still shaky from pleasure, undo buttons. Unclasping his belt, removing loose fabric until he's bare before you. There’s something nervous to his gaze, something unspoken, lingering in the air. “Hey, hey. I’ve got you, yeah? You’re okay,” you promise, before your eyes shamelessly look down. He’s straining, pre-cum lingering at his tip, dick pressed up against his stomach now. “Fuck, okay— yeah. Good. Great even.” first time you've ever stumbled over a sentence in your life.

There’s so much to be concerned about. The fact he’s naked, that you could destroy everything with a few serrated words, years and years of rebuilding, reconstructing. But you don’t— and he can’t help but laugh nervously. “Glad to be up to your standards. I’d uh, hate to disappoint.”

“Always the over-achiever,” you respond, shifting away from him— there’s amusement to your expression when he groans, pitifully, when he rolls onto his back, draping an arm over his face.

Predictable. Condoms in his bedside table. At least he's prepared. You open the wrapper with your teeth, discarding it somewhere amongst the tangle of limbs and sheets, too hellbent on finding him again.

Oh, in this position, you have full, unrestricted view of his body. Endless planes of skin, begging to be marked, sentenced indefinitely to your touch. By the time you straddle his hips, hes a flushed mess beneath you. “I— um, you look really really pretty right now.” he stumbles, idiot.

His dilated eyes take you in. Every contour and curve, the way your hair hangs over your face, eyes up eyes up eyes up. He fails when you run your hand across his dick, thumb brushing against the tip. By the time you’ve slipped the condom over him, hes gone. Bucking and moaning, and so so much better than his hand could ever be.

He wants to be inside of you, but it’s hard to think right now, let alone vocalize the words. I want, he thinks, I want everything, with you.

Your name is on his tongue, muttered and repeated, a reverent prayer of sorts. He needs to gain back his control here, to return to equal footing.

“Yeah—“ he breathes out, “So much of an overachiever, considering I had you making all of those noises—“ his words falter, die out, when you sink down. When you take him. Wrapped around, tight. Warm heat that sets alight every nerve in his overstimulated body. He has half the mind to apologize for his comment because you’re about to ruin him, he knows.

“I thought you wanted me to corrupt you, hm?” you retort. The pace is slow, mostly for his own sanity. Though, the feel of him, the way he slots into you, warm skin pressed against warm skin is intoxicating, and it’s a battle to keep your composure. To not just fall apart under the weight of him.

“What’s that, pretty boy? Struggling? Because you were so egotistical a few seconds ago? Where’s all that ego gone? Straight between your legs, I think.”

A whimper. It’s a whimper, a pained thing ripped straight from his throat. He’s making indiscernible noises now, messy sounds pooling from his swollen lips. The praise, the strained undertones of degradation? It’s too much. But god does he love you for it, because that’s you through and through. Sharp, and brittle to everyone but him, he wants to look, he does, albeit he has to turn his head to the side, bury half of his face in a pillow because he’s gone. At this point, he can only take it.

“I— um, mhm. Yeah,” he slurs. He’s almost incoherent at this point; he’s been reduced to nothing, just a mass of skin, bone, and flesh at your disposal, to own and use and he can’t find it in himself to feel humiliated about it, not when it’s you.

“Can’t— um, I was wrong, you’re— oh god,” the sounds of your body hitting his, back arching as your pace picks up. “Oh, ‘m sorry, ‘m sorry —baby, can’t, can’t take it. That’s…”

It’s a lot for his first time, that’s for certain.

“Yes, you you can. I know you can, Spence.” you mutter, interlocking your fingers, letting them hang near your hips. “You feel so good— so so fucking good. Look at you, so brain dead for me. Taking it all so well, love.”

Love?— oh he wants to be buried with that one. He’s a mindless disaster, impenetrably devoted to you alone.

He doesn’t even know how he’s saying words at this point, it’s as if his brain-to-mouth connection has been severed by your very presence itself. It’s not possible to form a coherent thought when you’re riding him like this, taking him so deep that he’s seeing stars. There’s tears pooling in his eyes, he looks pretty when he cries. Especially when it’s derived from pleasure, when he can let go of the burdens, everything he’s endured, when it’s just sensation. Nothing more, no more thoughts.

There’s safety here, an element of home, home home bliss, that has him keening. He wants to stay buried here forever, where nothing can ever hurt him again. When it’s just you, and your pretty words, and your exploitative power to destroy him. You never do, anyway. Even when you could, you restrain.

“Can’t, ’m gonna…, Please, please, don’t stop.” he whines, “Pleasepleaseplease— oh, can’t— I can’t.”

He grips you tight, rolls you over, mostly so he can feel you closer. The sight of you riding him was excruciating, but this is worse because now there’s no gap separating you. Now, he can bury his face into the crook of your neck, burn himself in the warmth of your touch.

“Spence..” you mutter.

“I know. I know—“ hes ruined, sloppy thrusts, whimpers catching against the stifling air. “Feels s’good.”

He doesn’t know what to do, how to breathe, so he just runs his thumb over your clit, watching your prominent reaction, watching as you gasp, moan— oh, and then you’re clenching around him, tightening the pleasure, and yesyesyes.

You’re too gone, moving still, and he can only cant his hips forwards, buck and squirm until he’s sobbing under the weight of your ministrations, releasing so hard that he can barely remember his name, no cognitive function, in the haze of his orgasm.

“There’s my boy— so pretty for me.” he can vaguely hear you saying, and if you’re talking him through it, he can only hear snippets of praise now anyway.

“Mhm— mhm. Yours, yeah.” he mumbles, body sinking against the sheets, a few little whimpers escaping his lips as you milk the rest of his pleasure from him.

Tangled limbs and sweat-stained skin. “You okay?” you ask in the aftermath.

“So okay,” he agrees, shifting closer, back pressed against your torso— sue him for being little spoon.

──────────────────

The next morning, you wake to an absence of Spencer. It’s unsettling, to say the least. So, you're quick to fumble over the buttons of one of his shirts, fabric creased, matching the tousled nature of your hair, disheveled, remnants of the ruination of last night.

For a moment, you consider that he might’ve left — but there he is, in the kitchen, attempting to make breakfast.

“Hey,” you mutter, leaning against the counter to watch.

Scratches adorn his back, indent marks from your nails, crescent reminders, stain his waist, and he’s content to wear them. If anything, he can’t wait to add to the budding collection.

Pancakes. The good side of the bed. Coffee. All of his promises from last night are being thoroughly met, even if he’s burning the food, and shit, he didn’t realize the coffee would be finished so soon. For all his calculations, he’s fairly off-center today.

And then, you come padding across his kitchen, embellished in only his shirt, unbuttoned near the top to expose your collarbone, and he’s fairly certain the last remainders of his IQ disappear.

“Hi! Hi,” he says, wide-eyed, “Um, making.. breakfast. You look, wow yeah.”

Breakfast lays forgotten.

#spencer reid #sub spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fluff #he deserves this #let the man fuck!!!!!

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reiderwriter · 1 year ago

Note

Okay so I have a small req (Honestly this is more of an hc than anything-but I need to share cuz vshvskhbjks) I feel like Spencer is genuinely so perverted when it comes to his girlfriend??? like if you leave your panties lying around he IS swiping them and he is not ashamed like...he may not do much in public but in private he will grab a handful of your ass or tits when he can like.....In the early seasons, I feel like he'd be a little ashamed but s13+? hell no, especially when it comes to him getting caught being a lil perv gfkjk (FEEL FREE TO IGNORE THIS IF IT ISN'T YOUR CUP OF TEA!!!!)

A/N; Gave this one some ✨️angst✨️ just because I could, but YES TO PERVERTED SPENCER!! YES INDEED!!

Summary; You get to know your coworker well after a decade on the job. You get to know just how much he loves to touch you and just how much you enjoy his hands on you as well. But after prison, something is changed in Spencer Reid.

Warnings: SMUT, 18+ Minors DNI. Masturbation (M, F), oral sex (F), hand job, mentions of somewhat public indecency, groping, grinding, etc, unprotected sex, PinV, creampie, dirty talk.

Spencer Reid had always been a pervert, and it took you six long, quiet months to figure that out.

When you'd joined the BAU after years of begging for a chance, you were a team expecting field-hardened agents, and for the most part, that's what you'd got. Hotchner was as bureaucratic as they came, Rossi had been at the institution as long as the concept of the BAU had, and the others had some serious qualifications to their names.

But Spencer Reid was the outlier. He was a bit timid in front of the others, always seemed to put his foot in his mouth when it mattered most and seemed to be patronized around the office a bit until it came to his intellect.

And you didn't quite know how to act around him until you got to know him very, very well.

A case in some state or the other had called for emergency motel rooms, unfortunate as some Nascar show or the other was rapidly filling up hotel room spaces everywhere. So, as the two youngest members of the team (and by far the most eager to please), you'd ended up rooming together in a double twin room.

“So, Spencer, what do you do at night to wind down? Relax after a case?” The motel door had swung shut loudly behind you an awkward three minutes before you started the conversation, and you needed something to break the awkward tension in the room.

“I… read, I guess?”

“You're always reading. What book is it today? Dostoyevsky, Tolstoy? Maybe Dickens?”

In response, he'd just awkwardly held up the book cover for a minute, leaving you to nod and let the conversation peter out. It wasn't the first time one of your conversations with him died out due to a mutual lack of skill, and it certainly wouldn't be the last.

Giving in, you grabbed your bag and headed for the small bathroom, a strategic retreat to pass the time without having to acknowledge that the teams resident genius was ignoring you.

Because he definitely was.

You'd been on the team for six months, and you couldn't quite figure out why he'd never so much as asked you how your day was. He'd be jovially talking with one agent or the other and would clam up as soon as you joined into the fray.

Spencer Reid was stuck in his shell, you'd been told. He was someone who didn't open up very easily, especially after his first few, very rough years in the BAU.

You let each concern roll off your back as you showered and cleaned yourself up after a day of dumpster diving for clues. Your next aim was getting out of the shower, dried, and into bed before you felt the weight of his disinterest in you settle any heavier.

“Hey I'm all done now, and I'm gonna hit the hay, so bathrooms all yours.”

“Thanks,” he said and immediately strode in, shutting the door behind him without another word.

You wished you could shake the man. You weren't exactly used to being so pointedly avoided by a peer, and it was honestly making you feel rather indignant. You wanted to grab his attention and hold it any way you could, so much so that your palms started itching.

The sounds of Spencer's shower interrupted your attempts to rest, so you set about organizing your things instead. Folding your shirts, you placed them in your go bag, taking inventory on how many fresh outfits you had left and how much laundry you'd have left to do when the case ended.

It could've been the haze of sleep, or perhaps just an early warning bell, but no matter how many times you counted, you always came up short by one pair of panties. It took another minute of blinking out the sleep in your eyes, becoming suddenly alert again, that you realized it was the pair of panties you'd been wearing before your shower.

“Fuck,” you sighed, trying to fill the deep pit of embarrassment opening in your stomach before it swallowed you from the inside out. “Fuck.”

When in doubt, you found it best to curse at least twice.

And just like that your coherent thoughts went out the window - a morning, afternoon and evening doing manual labor under the guise of a nice desk job would do that to any girl - and you found yourself opening the door to the bathroom without knocking first or even remembering Spencer Reid's presence in the room at all.

He froze in shock as you came face to face with him, shirt and pants open, his long cock in his hands and his face flushed with erotic shock as he rubbed up and down the length of his cock.

“Shit, fuck, Spencer I'm sorry I was- are those my panties?”

Rather unabashedly, your eyes hadn't left his crotch as he froze in fear at your intrusion.

“I'm not a pervert!” He shouted, still unable to let his dick go, so close to bliss as he was.

“You're madturbating into my panties, Spencer. What other label would you put on that?”

“You're really hot. It's hard to ignore. I don't usually do this, but they were in here on the floor, and I thought about taking them back out to you, but then you'd think I was a pervert for touching your underwear and then I imagined you thanking me and putting them back on right in front of me and my cock was so hard and you said you were going to sleep. Did you know most men masturbate eight times a week on average? Me doing this once while sharing a room with you for a week isn't statistically …that …bad. Why are you doing that?”

You'd been done listening halfway through and had somehow found yourself sinking to your knees. He'd rested his body against the bathroom sink, so you organized yourself in front of him, staring up at him innocently as you wrapped your fingers around his hand.

“I want to see what it was you were doing with my panties, Spencer,” You moved his hand up and down his length, slowly dragging the lacy material across each inch. “Please let me see.”

The empty shower kept flowing and the room was thick with steam as you kept up a steady pace rubbing up and downs Spencer's cock.

A sense of achievement hit you with each moan and gasp he let out. Every time his hips thrust up into your hand, each time his hand stroked your hair in thanks for your copious attention.

You'd finally gotten through to Spencer Reid in a way that you were about to make sure was mutually beneficial.

His moans got louder and harder to conceal with a bite of the lip as he got closer to cumming. He really was a pervert, letting his coworker jerk him off in a motel bathroom while on a case. He was practically begging for release.

“Cum for me Spencer. Make my face pretty, please please please.”

His eyes shot open wide as you stuck your tongue out, just in time to taste his cum on your lips. A few stray ropes hit your chin and cheek as well, with the majority staining the panties you'd come in to search for.

“Thank you, Spencer,” You giggled, wiping away his cum and standing yourself up to come face to face with him.

“Y/N, it won't-” You cut him off with a kiss that he eagerly returned hands, falling all over your body in his haste to feel every part of you. His tongue pressed into your mouth like he was a cartographer mapping out its caverns, desperate to learn each soft caress you returned off by heart.

“If you were about to say it won't happen again, I suggest you think again, Spencer. I want this to happen again. Regularly.”

You shut off the shower and turned on your heel, walking back out to the bedroom and out of the heat for a few minutes.

“You want to jerk me off?”

“Yes.”

“And I'm the pervert?”

“You were using my panties and your hand like a fleshlight, Spencer. Yes, you are a pervert.”

“I'm a pervert but you still want to jerk me off?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

That's how it began. Your decade-long escapade with Spencer Reid. It wasn't that you dated. He was still unsure about how to approach you for another few months after that, but there was nothing like the relaxation of a few orgasms to really help you warm up to somebody.

For the first few years, a case didn't pass without one of you slipping into the others motel room for some late night entertainment.

You knew just how deep his fingers could hit inside you after only two weeks. You became obsessed with how well his cock could stretch you out, how his hands would gently rub around your clit in circles while you bounced up and down on his length. How he watched your breasts bounce with untold wonder in his eyes.

You most of all loved that his tongue was as eager to taste you as you had been that very first time to taste his cum.

Half the times he let himself into your room, he'd satisfy himself by eating you out lazily for hours on end, making you moan his name while you came on his fingers and tongue. Every flash of violet that he caught a glimpse of - that first pair of panties - drove him crazy.

Motels and hotels and once the back seat of an SUV after a long drive became your time to get closer to your coworker. You never once thought of bringing this physical relationship home with you, though, and it wasn't a continuous thing.

You'd had to take it easy when he got shot in the leg, not wanting to hurt him anymore. And again, when he'd gotten shot in the neck, though a few times he'd begged you to close his hospital door and help him out still.

And you'd both distanced yourself after Emily's death and miraculous resurrection. Surprisingly enough, you'd found your heart slightly twisted when he'd begged the team for help rescuing his girlfriend from a stalker.

But you always found your way back in his bed with his tongue pressed against yours and his cock buried as deep into you as far as it could go. In the decade you'd been sleeping with the secretly perverted and somewhat insatiable Spencer Reid you'd never gone longer than three months without his body in your bed.

Until he went to prison.

The weight of your grief at losing him was unparalleled. You'd been heartbroken when Emily had died, but it paled in comparison to the thought of his isolation. Penelope had to remind you to eat, Luke had to engage you in conversation to keep you talking.

Emily slipped a spare key to Reid's apartment to you somewhere around the three week mark, and you'd let yourself into a place you'd only ever heard described. You slept in his bed to feel his scent wrapped around you, touched yourself there to remind yourself that you were just feeling the loss of a sexual partner and friend and nothing more. It was lust and sexual frustration driving your depression. That was all.

Spencer came out different. Everyone did. On the surface, he was still kind, still a little bit nerdy, and he still wasn't the best at reading social cues, but there was an intensity to him that wasn't there before.

On cases, he'd wrap a hand around your waist and push a hand just slightly under your shirt while you introduced yourself to local detectives. He'd hug you at the end of every work day, breathing in your scent and telling you how tired he was.

His hand would firmly cover your thigh and not move the entire duration of any car ride, team dinner or family event, and he'd kiss the back of your neck and grope your breasts each and every elevator ride you took alone together.

Spencer Reid hadn't been able to keep his hands off of you for six whole months, and yet he hadn't actually touched you.

Every time you'd knocked on his motel door, he'd not opened it, and he hadn't once come to yours.

You'd expected him every day for a week after he'd first gotten out and had even explicitly told him so. You texted your address, invited him over, and sent him pictures of you in those infernal panties that you really didn't wear that often anymore.

He desired you still, you knew enough from brushing past him and feeling his semi push against your ass, you knew in every hug where he touched you just enough to know he wanted more but still had the control to pull away.

You knew that he only kissed your neck, because if he kissed your lips his tongue would wander all the way to your cunt and he'd be on his knees between yours making you scream his name in pleasure.

Spencer Reid wanted to avoid you, but he still wanted you, and after six months of celibacy you were tired of waiting around for him to finally crack.

Emily had never asked for the spare key back. With 10 years of dalliances under your belt, you were sure the entire office had caught on, if not before prison, then certainly after his hands took possession of your body after his release. She wasn't going to ask for the key back because that was like asking a question she probably would sleep better without having the answer to.

Spencer started his professorial work, and you finished some nights before he could manage the commute home, so it was easy to let yourself into his apartment for the confrontation.

When Spencer finally turned his key in the lock, he found you there on your knees on the floor in a matching violet set of lingerie. Not your originals, but certainly close enough - smaller, though.

“Y/N, what are you doing here?”

“I'm just sitting here in my underwear for fun, Spencer. You should try it sometime.”

He frowned at your sarcastic reply but stepped closer to you, topping your head up to meet his gaze with a quick flick of his finger.

“I mean it, Y/N. Why are you here?”

“I…I want you to touch me again.”

“I touch you plenty, Y/N. I touch you here,” he traced your lips.

“And here.” His fingers fell to your neck, sweeping some hair off your shoulders.

“And a lot here, too.” He cupped one breast in his hand and gave it a squeeze, and you let your head rest against his thigh as he slipped a finger into your bralette.

“I want you to touch me more, Spencer.”

“How? How should I touch you? Be a little pervert for me and tell me, Y/N?”

Your breathing faltered for a second as he pinched your nipple and you bit your lip before you told him exactly what he wanted to hear.

“I want to feel your dick buried deep in my pussy. I want to cum on your tongue. I want you to stretch me out with your fingers and I want you to fill me up with your cum. Please, Spencer, I miss you so much.”

He said nothing but withdrew his hand from your chest and distanced himself slightly, turning his face away from you.

“Spencer, please, what's wrong? Did I do something-”

“Do you miss me? Or do you miss fucking me?” The words would regularly send you into an indignant stomp, and part of you was still begging you to let out a shout of “what the hell is that supposed to mean.”

But Spencer was frozen still in the doorway of his house, almost statuesque as a melancholic look overwhelmed his features.

Your courage drained your body as you stood up and pulled the shirt you'd earlier discarded back on.

“Spencer? Look at me, please.”

He did reluctantly, and that blank expression still filled his eyes with gloom.

You grabbed his hand and pulled him to the couch, sitting him down and wrapping yourself around him.

You say there, head pressed into his neck, legs straddling him as his arms slowly came up to pulling you back in. Your heart beat harder by the second, and you counted down the minutes as you worked up courage.

“I missed you so much I drove myself insane. I had to sleep here for a week straight after they told me you were put in solitary. Every day, I thought of your hands on my body and how much I missed seeing your fingers flipping through a book on the jet. I missed asking you what you were reading, and I missed convincing you to put the book down.”

You pulled your head up to meet his gaze and slowly let your mouth fall to his lips. It was slow, soft. An innocent peck in the context of your usual caresses. It spoke the words I miss you more effectively than your voice could, and neither of you seemed to want to part from the warm embrace.

“I missed you, Spencer Reid.” You spoke, cutting off your kiss as you grew more impassioned by his touch, breathing harder and speaking faster and faster now as you kept on.

“I missed you when you came back because you kept your hands on me. You let yourself enjoy my body in public but wouldn't let me share your bed in private. You hugged me, but you wouldn't let me hold you, and you have not once spoken about how you feel, you have not once told me that you are okay now or that you are not okay and you need my shoulder to cry on.”

He was silent until your tears sprung forth, and then he was everywhere around you, kissing the drops from your face, shushing you and whispering words of encouragement and thanks and love into your ears while he placated your breaking heart.

Because somehow you fell in love with the pervert who stole your panties and now you were sitting in a room with a mostly broken man, begging him to use you to feel whole again.

“I love you, Spencer. Please, please let me touch you.”

“I love you, too,” he whispered against your lips, hands finding your hips again as he finally pushed his tongue into your mouth.

His nails bit into the skin at your thighs as he forced you not to move, instead grinding up into you after another heated kiss.

“It was hard, but you kept me going. Memories of you, your mouth, your scent your wet cunt wrapped around my cock, you kept me alive in that place.” He worked you up with each dirty confession as his hands pushed the shirt back off your shoulders and bared the lingerie to him once again.

“Then I was out, and you were still the same as I remembered, but I was different, and I needed more from you. But I couldn't take more, and I didn't want to ask you to give more because I could not beg one more person to love me.”

“You don't have to beg, Spencer, I love you already, I love you I love you I love you.”

“Y/N, you don't understand. I am completely enamoured with you. I want to possess you, I want to keep you in my room, I want to have a hand on you at all times. I want to put a bullet in any man who looks at you because you are mine. I'm not a pervert, I'm a monster, and I'm going to hurt you.”

“Possess me, hurt me, keep me, Spencer, do whatever you want to me, I will let you. Just please don't leave me.”

Your teeth clicked together in his haste to recapture your lips again, his cock hard and already sprung from his pants thanks to two pairs of quick working hands.

He pushed aside your panties, and he was inside you, pressed to the hilt recapturing the place that was home to him.

“You picked this color for me. You wanted me to lose control and fuck you and you got what you wanted,” he whispered in your ear as you locked your ankles together behind his back.

“I did.”

“Good. I'm going to rip them shred by shred from your body so nobody else can see you acting like such a desperate wet cunt ever again.”

You let out a gasp at his words, and his tongue dropped back down your throat as he rutted into you ferociously.

“Spencer, yes, fuck me. FUCK!”

Your hips met his in a furious clash, his hand making their way around to your butt cheek as he aided your thrusting, pulling you up and down the length of his cock.

“That's it, look at your boobs bouncing for me, sweetheart. Your body knows when it's being fucked right, it knows when I'm here, and I'm the only one who can make you feel this good, right baby?”

“Yes, Spencer. Yes!”

His hand came back up to your clit as you met his hips more enthusiastically than before, fucking yourself on the length of him.

“You're going to cum on my cock. Show me how much you missed me, missed this.”

“So much, missed you so much, Spence….need your cum inside me, fill me up Spencer, please."

It took both of you only a few more desperate thrusts to reach the climax you'd waited half a year for. You convulsed on his dick, shuddering underneath him as he filled you with rope after rope of cum.

But when you had both caught your breath, you still didn't let go, still holding on to him desperately as of he'd vanidj in another second despite your confessions.

“Y/N…” he cooked into your ear as you buried your face in his chest again. “Y/N, we need to get you to bed.”

“I'm not leaving.”

“No, you're not. But you're not sleeping on my couch either.”

You pulled away just enough to watch his face as he dipped down for another sweetly chaste kiss.

Lifting himself up, and pulling his cock out of you, you whimpered a little at the loss of his warmth, but after rearranging himself in his pants, he pulled you up next to him and wrapped his arms around you in a bear hug as he slowly walked you back towards his bedroom.

“You really slept at my apartment?”

“I slept in your bed. I'm sorry, I know it was overstepping, but you were gone and I-”

“Missed me, I know.” His hands traced your spine again before cupping around your bare ass and hooking it under to touch your soaked cunt.

“How much did you miss me, Y/N? How did you spend your nights here?” His fingers once again hooked under the panties, but instead of pulling them to the side, he quickly pulled at the seams, and you heard a ripping sound aa his eyes demanded the answer to your question.

“Close the door, and I'll shoe you exactly what I did here, Spencer. I'll show you everything.’

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #mgg #spencer reid smut #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid criminal minds #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x y/n

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glossdebut · 1 month ago

Text

everything i want (a take a bite drabble collection) | MYG

✧ PAIRING: yoongi x fem!reader (TAB!couple)

✧ GENRE: established relationship, fluff, smut, humor

✧ REQUEST: @joonary: hello my dear friend i am here to request something with dilf yoongi 😁 no other specifications go crazy and @beomcoups: I wanted to send you a request with Yoongi and you spend the day at the beach with this prompt "isn't that view beautiful"? It can be sfw or nsfw.

✧ SUMMARY: The best part of being with Yoongi, from the very beginning, was that nothing had to change for either of you. You could be married to Yoongi and to your job at the same time, build your career from the ground up and never sacrifice a thing. But this? Having a baby? It’s all going to be sacrifice. It won’t be just you and Yoongi anymore, living in your precious little workaholic love bubble. Everything is going to change.

✧ TAGS: pregnancy, different stages of pregnancy (conception, morning sickness, early labor, etc.), the smut is crazy but this is mostly soft, TAB!couple are in complete domestic bliss i fear, and they’re married!, yoongi and MC being each other’s voices of reason, TAB!yoongi’s murderous inner monologues make a comeback, rina cameo, baby penny <3, beach episode moment (warnings under the cut because… um…)

✧ WORDCOUNT: 7.6k words

✧ AUTHOR’S NOTE: blame MJ for this. and my m’lady anon for saying i’m always ovulating. *taps mic* min yoongi my womb is empty please call me.

P.S. thank you to tanni @yooniivrse for beta reading <3

P.P.S. i feel like this can maybe stand alone??? but parts of it might be confusing if you haven’t read take a bite in its entirety, so… do that, if you want!

✧ WARNINGS: vaginal fingering, oral (f. receiving), dirty talk, spanking, nipple play, hand/finger kink, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, yoongi calls reader a sl*t in bed but it is all extremely consensual, rough sex, unprotected sex (duh) (but wrap it before you tap it), creampie (double duh)

one —

Yoongi’s being a real good sport about it, but you know you’re being annoying.

Ever since both of you got home, you just… There are things that need to be done, okay? Like unloading the dishwasher. You can’t just leave that for tomorrow, that would be insane. And since you’re unloading the dishwasher, you might as well organize the kitchen cabinets. They’re a mess, and you’re putting away dishes anyway. Why postpone the inevitable?

And Pepper! Sweet, sweet Pepper. She needs to be fed, obviously. You’re not going to neglect your cat, are you? Your cat who has nobody else in the whole world aside from you and Yoongi? The two of you are responsible for a whole life—feline life! Feline life.

This doesn’t have anything to do with what Yoongi’s eomma said tonight. Absolutely not.

You are a grown woman. An award winning music journalist with a kickass career and a super hot, famous, rich man by your side. You’re not going to let Yoongi’s eomma get under your skin. You’re just fidgety. Who wouldn’t be after dinner with the in-laws?

You pause mid-kibble pour, staring down at the sparkly, significant thing wrapped around your finger. It’s been over a year, and sometimes you still can’t believe it’s true. Married. Husband and wife. Mr. and Mrs. Min.

The thought makes you relax, just a little. Yoongi is your better half in every sense. Your soulmate. And more than that, he has your back. There’s no reason why you can’t just tell him what you’ve been thinking. What you’ve been thinking for a long time now, really.

As if he can read your mind, your husband sidles up behind you, wrapping his arms around you as you finish feeding the cat.

“You wanna talk about it?” he murmurs against the back of your neck.

“No,” you huff, turning in his hold to loop your arms around his neck. “But I think we have to.”

Yoongi hums, dipping down to kiss you softly. “Okay. Let’s talk about it, then.”

With a sigh, you peel yourself away from your husband and head to the couch. This feels like a sitting down conversation. Yoongi sits next to you, pulling you into his body, your head on his shoulder.

“Y/N… You know it’s not a dealbreaker, right? Kids. You know that.”

Tilting your head up, you study his features.

Yoongi is usually so unshakeable. It’s rare that you see him truly nervous, not when it comes to you. Your relationship is so solid, you can’t remember the last time you saw him like this.

“Yoongi, of course I know that,” you assure him immediately, bringing a hand up to cup his cheek.

The two of you had the marriage-and-kids conversation not long after you moved in together. It was the logical thing to do, with how serious things were getting. The marriage part of the conversation was easy. Yeah, duh, you wanted to marry Min Yoongi one day. No shit.

The kids part, though? That was a little harder. At least for you.

You didn’t know if you wanted kids. The cons far outweighed the pros, especially where your work schedules were concerned, and at the time, you weren’t sure if that would ever change.

Yoongi was amenable about it, though. He wanted what you wanted. Kids, no kids, whatever. You’re pretty sure those were his exact words.

“I’m not freaking out because I think you’re gonna, like, leave me or something.”

“Okay,” he says, visibly relaxing. “Then why are you freaking out?”

“I don’t know!” you groan, pressing your face into his shoulder. “I don’t know.”

“Baby,” he huffs. “This is our decision, not my eomma’s. Nothing’s changed.”

That’s the thing. That’s why you’re so restless.

“Maybe…” Fuck, you can’t sit still for this. So you stand, hoping you can force the words out if you’re pacing. “Maybe things have changed.”

It would be funny, the way Yoongi’s mouth pops open in a little ‘o’, if you didn’t feel like you were about to throw up.

“I just—” You rub your hands over your face, exasperated. And then you’re stopping in front of him, jabbing your finger at his chest. “You’re really annoying, you know. Paternal. Every time I have to watch you play with your brother’s kid I really want to smack you.”

“Paternal?” Yoongi snorts. His hands catch yours, interlaced fingers pulling you to stand between his open legs.

“Paternal,” you sniff. “Stop looking at me like that.”

Of course, that only makes it worse. He looks so fond, even though you feel more and more like you’re dying as you speak. “How long have you been thinking about this?”

“You mean how long has this been plaguing me?” you grumble, earning a laugh from him.

“Yeah, sure,” Yoongi says as he looks up at you expectantly.

You look down at your joined hands, swinging them back and forth so the warm lamplight catches on your rings. “Since we got married, I guess.”

Yoongi squeezes your hands to catch your attention, quirking an eyebrow at you when you glance up. “That long?” he asks, his voice tinged with disbelief. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I didn’t want to tell you until I was sure,” you mumble as your heart threatens to beat out of your chest.

“You’re telling me now,” he points out. He sounds a little unsteady, like he’s feeling just as jittery as you are, now that it’s all out in the open.

“Yeah,” you breathe. “I am.”

“You want a baby?”

You nod, bottom lip catching between your teeth. “I want a baby.”

Before you have a chance to react, Yoongi sits up, pulling you into a kiss with a hand on the back of your neck. Almost as soon as you melt into it, clambering into his lap as your lips slot with his, he’s pulling away.

“With me, right?” he teases, squawking indignantly when you pinch his sides in retaliation. “Yah, I’m just making sure!”

“Yes with you, asshole!”

two —

You feel a little stupid.

Maybe it’s because you don’t know how to act now. Nobody told you that planning to have a baby would suddenly put so much pressure on sex, but now here you are, standing in the kitchen in a too-tight dress while you try not to burn dinner.

You never cook. That’s Yoongi’s job. But you don’t know what else to do with all this restless energy, don’t know how else to initiate the ‘okay, I’m ready, knock me up’ conversation.

You’ve talked about the important things. You’ve dealt with the birth control issue. You’re taking, like, vitamins and shit now. All that’s left is to… actually try, right?

Except you’re nervous as hell, have been since you woke up to the notification from your cycle tracker informing you that you’re in your fucking ‘fertile window’ (ew!), and you’re suddenly acting like someone you don’t even recognize. Christ, you wonder if Yoongi has been feeling like this, too.

Speaking of Yoongi… He isn’t home yet, and for a moment, you think it’s not too late to just get rid of all of the evidence. Do away with the self-imposed theatrics, order some takeout, and act like it’s just another night. It’s not like Yoongi would mind.

But you’ve already committed to these stupid fucking steaks. And candles. There are candles.

It is too late, anyway. Almost as soon as the thought begins to form in your brain, you hear the sound of keys jangling and a lock turning, and then your future sperm donor himself is slipping his shoes off at the front door.

At least, he’s trying to. He’s got one socked foot out, frozen in his tracks as he takes in the scene before him.

“Did I forget an anniversary?”

You scoff, eyes rolling despite the nausea building inside you. “As if you’ve ever forgotten anything in your life.”

“Point made.” He kicks his shoes off the rest of the way, nodding his head in the direction of the candles on the table. “Wanna tell me what this is for, then?”

You shrug, poking at the steak sizzling in front of you with a pair of tongs. “I wanted to make you dinner.”

“You don’t do that,” he says, eyeing you suspiciously.

“Well, I felt like it tonight,” you huff in exasperation.

“Okay,” he says, rounding the counter. His eyes rake over your form shamelessly, now that he can see all of you. “And the dress?”

“A girl can’t dress up every now and then?”

“Hey,” he says, raising his hands in surrender. “Not complaining, believe me. Just curious.”

You know you’re being a little bit testy. Evasive. But it’s not your fault. Is there a good way to say ‘I did all of this because I want you to cum inside me tonight’? If there is, you haven’t found it.

Instead, you settle on, “I just felt like it.”

Yoongi hums, sliding behind you so he can wrap his arms around your middle. “Just felt like it, huh?” he mumbles. You can feel his lips on the back of your neck, and it’s dizzying how quickly your body reacts to his proximity. “No ulterior motives?”

“Nope,” you say. It sounds like bullshit, even to you. But how are you supposed to spin a convincing lie when your husband’s hands are on you? Hands that slide from hips to waist to tits as his mouth grows insistent at your nape, making you shiver.

“Shame,” he murmurs, nosing at the curve of your neck until his lips reach the shell of your ear. “I was hoping you wanted me to fuck a baby into you.”

“Fuck,” you breathe. Your legs are already growing wobbly beneath you, and he hasn’t even touched you. It’s pathetic, the way anxiety gives way to anticipation so easily.

Smoothly, Yoongi reaches in front of you to turn off the stove. It’s probably best that you skip dinner, anyway. Those steaks were going to be shit and you both know it.

You’re guided away from the stove, spun around so the small of your back is pressed against the kitchen counter. The room seems to shrink around you with the way you’re pinned under Yoongi’s gaze.

He kisses you, slow and deliberate, your legs growing even weaker at the way his lips slide against yours. You get lost in it for a moment, reveling in the way his body molds to yours as his tongue teases at the seam of your lips. But then he pulls away.

“Why don’t you tell me the truth?” His hands slide down your body to knead your ass roughly, causing the hem of your dress to ride up. “What does my girl want, hm?”

“Yoongi,” you whine, desperate as you reach down to palm him through his jeans.

“Nuh-uh,” he chastises, voice laced with amusement. He grabs hold of your wrist, bringing it up to his lips to press a gentle kiss against your skin. “You’ve just gotta ask, beautiful. You know I’ll give you what you need. I’m not a mind reader, though.”

Annoying. Also patently untrue, but whatever. The point of all of this—the dress, the candles, the dinner attempt—was that you wouldn’t have to say it. But of course, Yoongi never makes things easy for you.

“You already know, though,” you huff. “Don’t be mean.”

Yoongi huffs a laugh, fingers skating teasingly along the hem of your dress. “Okay, baby,” he concedes. “I’ll be nice.”

And then his hand slips under your dress, only to find that you’ve foregone panties for the night. “Shit,” he groans. “You’re gonna kill me.”

The anticipation of the day has left you dripping for him, the pads of his fingers sliding along your cunt with ease. You gasp when he thrusts two digits into you, moan when they curl against your front wall, the sensation sending you climbing up the counter.

“This?” he murmurs against your lips. “This is what you want?”

Suddenly, all of your anxiety from the day washes away. It’s stupid, you realize, to be so scared of just telling him everything you want. He loves when you tell him what you want, loves to be the one to fulfil every single one of your wishes. And right now, while your husband’s fingers fuck into your pussy in the middle of your kitchen, all you want is—

“Fuck me. Please, Yoongi. Need you to fuck me.”

“Yeah?” he growls. “Why?”

“B-because,” you whimper, cheeks flushing as you finally say the words. “W-wanna make a baby with you, wan’ you to give me a baby.”

“Fuck,” Yoongi hisses, nipping at your jaw. The pace of his fingers is slow and steady as heat crawls up your spine. You cry out when his thumb begins to circle your clit, your eyes rolling back in your head at the sensation. “There’s my good girl. I’ll give you what you need, baby, I promise. Just cum for me first.”

He doesn’t have to tell you twice. You’re so fucking wound up, and his fingers feel so good pumping in and out of you, it was only a matter of time before you unraveled for him.

Wetness gushes around Yoongi’s fingers, the filthy squelch of his ministrations filling your ears. You don’t have it in you to be embarrassed by it. Not when you’re this close. Before you know it, your orgasm is washing over you, leaving you clenching helplessly around his fingers as he mumbles praise into your neck.

“Shit,” you breathe.

Gently, Yoongi withdraws his fingers. “Feel good?”

With a giggle, you nod, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “Mm. We really need to stop using our kitchen for non-kitchen related activities, though.”

“Nah,” he chuckles. “Where’s the fun in that?”

As you catch your breath, you start to feel antsy due to the silence that settles between you two. Everything’s out in the open now, isn’t it?

As if he can sense the shift in your energy, Yoongi presses his forehead against yours, rubbing his hand down your back. “You’re in your head again.”

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, pouting.

“Don’t apologize,” Yoongi murmurs softly. “Just tell me what's wrong.”

You take a shaky breath, closing your eyes for a moment. Better out than in, you suppose.

“I just… There’s all this pressure now that we’re trying to have a baby. I guess I’m just worried we’re not… doing this right.”

“Right?” he repeats, raising an eyebrow at you.

“Like… It’s a big deal, isn’t it?” you say, glancing at your forgotten steaks further down on the counter. “Shouldn’t we treat it like one?”

Yoongi pulls back, eyes widening in understanding. “So… The dress and the dinner.”

“Yeah.”

There’s a pause, and you can’t help but squirm as he studies you for a moment. You desperately wish you knew what he was thinking, but you know Yoongi. He chooses his words carefully, always.

“Do you want to do things differently?” he finally asks.

Huh.

“What?”

Yoongi grins, chuckling as he reaches to intertwine your fingers with his. “Y/N,” he starts, squeezing your hand. “You are the woman of my dreams. It doesn’t matter when or where or how it happens, our baby is going to be made with love no matter what.”

Your heart pangs at that, lips twisting in a contemplative frown as you consider his words. Damn him for making so much fucking sense all the time.

“If you want to do the dinner and the candles and the rose petals and everything else, we can do that,” Yoongi says, pausing to kiss your nose. “I’ll take my time, fuck you nice and slow. Anything you want.

“But I don’t want you to feel nervous about this,” he murmurs, pressing more kisses into your skin until he’s nosing the underside of your jaw. “I could bend you over this counter and fuck you right here, and we’d still be doing things right, as long as it feels right to you.”

Yoongi’s right. You’ve been building up all of these unrealistic expectations for how this night should go, and for no reason. The anxiety that had built a home in the pit of your stomach gives way to something hotter, your eyes fluttering shut as his breath ghosts over your skin.

“I’m sorry,” you sigh, tangling your fingers in his hair as he mouths at your neck. “I don’t want anything to change.”

“Quit apologizing,” he chastises with a bite to your skin that makes you gasp. “You know what you want. Always so good at telling me, too. So tell me.”

Here goes nothing.

“I want you to take off my dress,” you breathe. It feels like a good place to start.

Tongue darting out to lick his lips, Yoongi’s gaze roves over your body. “Yeah,” he agrees. “Bedroom? Or here?”

“Bedroom,” you say, gently pushing him out of your space so you can hop off the counter.

You barely get a chance to steady yourself before Yoongi’s grabbing hold of your hand. You can’t help but giggle at his eagerness as he drags you out of the kitchen, pausing only to blow out the candles you’d lit earlier.

Once he gets you to the bedroom, Yoongi spins you around so you’re facing away from him. You feel the evidence of his arousal against the curve of your ass as he slowly unzips your dress.

“So fucking pretty,” he murmurs, his breath warm against the back of your neck as your dress drops and pools at your feet. His hands roam over your body, squeezing and caressing everywhere he can reach. “How did I get so lucky, hm?”

Turning in his hold, you loop your arms around his neck with a cheeky smile, your naked form pressed against his clothed one. “Through a mutual disdain for square dancing, if I recall correctly.”

Yoongi laughs at that, gummy smile in full force even as he shamelessly fondles your breasts. “You don’t recall correctly,” he teases. “I had to put in a lot of work after that to actually get you, remember?”

How far you’ve both come since then. No more tortured longing. No more misunderstandings. No more fear of taking the leap. All that remains between you now is love. Plain and simple.

“You had me from day one,” you insist, fondness swelling in your chest. “I didn’t stand a chance.”

It’s so gratifying, witnessing the way you can still fluster your husband after all this time. With pink cheeks, Yoongi ducks his head, attempting to hide a shy smile. “Aw,” he coos, wrapping his arms around your waist. “Do you love me or something?”

Snorting, you bite back a grin. “I do. Very much. And you love me.”

Yoongi hums in agreement. An errant squeeze to your ass, as casual as it may be, reminds you of where you are. Heat floods you all over again, a delicious shiver wracking your body at the reminder of what you’re about to do. As head over heels as you may be for Yoongi, you’d really like to get his cock inside you sometime this year.

You catch his gaze, raising a challenging eyebrow at him.

“But you can fuck me like you don’t,” you offer.

In an instant, the softness in Yoongi’s eyes shifts into something else entirely. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, his grip on your ass tightening.

“You’re sure?” he asks, voice so low and gravelly that your cunt clenches in response. You know him well enough to know that he’s giving you one last out, that his control is likely hanging by a thread.

But fuck, you want it. Want to be fucked within an inch of your life, because who knows the next opportunity you’ll have to get it like that once you’re with child?

“I can handle it.”

Yoongi scans your features for a moment, taking in your flushed cheeks and parted lips. The way your body responds to him without a second thought, willing to take anything he wants to give you. If he’s looking for uncertainty, he isn’t going to find any. Not anymore.

He must be satisfied with what he finds, because before you can react, you’re suddenly on your back, gasping as you’re enveloped in memory foam.

“Spread your legs, baby,” Yoongi says, his hands on your knees roughly guiding your legs to part nice and wide so he can settle between them. “Show me that pretty cunt of yours.”

“Yoongi,” you whimper, fingers instinctively threading into his hair. It’s getting so long lately, so pullable. You might kill him if he tries to cut it anytime soon. “Want your cock, you don’t have to—“

Your pleas are effectively halted when Yoongi spreads your folds with his thumbs, looking up at you with eyes that are all pupil. “You’re this wet for me, and you think I’m not gonna get my mouth on you?”

He doesn’t give you a chance to respond, surging forward to lick a broad stripe over your pussy. You cry out, back arching and hips kicking off the bed when his tongue flicks against your oversensitive clit.

“Fucking dripping,” Yoongi groans appreciatively. “Holy shit, Y/N.”

The whine that escapes you is pathetic, embarrassment and arousal warring inside you as you rock your hips forward. Luckily, Yoongi gets the hint, dipping down again to swirl his tongue over you.

It’s filthy and loud, the way he sucks and slurps at your pussy like he’s starving for it, can’t get enough. It doesn’t take long before your second orgasm is barreling towards you, thighs trembling on either side of his head as you squirm under him.

“Yoongi, fuck,” you mewl as he laves over your aching cunt, tugging hard at the strands of dark hair caught between your fingers to keep him from pulling away. “I’m gonna cum, like, any second.”

Yoongi hums, tongue lashing at your clit at a pace that almost drives you up the bed. Everything feels so fucking good, so overwhelming, that you can’t hold back any longer.

You cum hard, a litany of curses and moans falling from your lips as Yoongi works you through it, only letting up when your hands push weakly at his head.

“You’re so worked up, baby,” he teases, although the way he palms himself through his jeans as he climbs over you tells you he’s just as turned on as you are. “You want my cum that bad?”

Your pussy flutters at his words, silently begging to be filled. Fuck. It doesn’t surprise you that your husband knows how to read your body this well, knows exactly how to push all of your buttons, but it still drives you crazy all the same.

“You’re worked up, too,” you huff as you snake your hand under his, feeling the way his erection strains against his jeans. He’s so fucking hard.

“Of course I am,” he agrees, chuckling at your impatience. He pulls his shirt over his head as he speaks, moving to deal with his jeans next. “I’ve got my girl cumming so easily for me, begging for my cock. Why wouldn’t I be worked up?”

“Then fucking do something about it,” you whine, mouth watering when his cock springs free in front of you. You need him inside you yesterday.

In a flash, you’re flipped over roughly so you’re flat on your stomach.

“So fucking impatient,” Yoongi growls, delivering a sharp slap to your ass that makes you moan.

You feel the heat of his hand dip between your thighs, fingers sliding over your slippery folds, and you can’t help but push your ass back against his touch, knees spreading as wide as they’ll go.

“Look at you. You’re desperate for it.” He sounds almost amazed. You whimper when he slides his fingers from your core, replacing them with the blunt head of his cock. “Well since you wanna act like a slut, I guess I have to fuck you like one, hm?”

Yes. Fucking. Please.

“Please,” you breathe, arching your back prettily for him, wiggling your hips in a way that makes him hiss. “Want it, please.”

Yoongi teases you for a moment, rubbing his tip through your soaked folds, but then the warmth of his body disappears from behind you. “Nah. I changed my mind,” he finally says, smacking your ass once more. “Turn over. I wanna see your face when I cum inside this pussy.”

Oh.

You’ve never moved so fucking fast in your life. Within seconds you’re on your back, and Yoongi doesn’t waste any time either, slotting his body between your legs with ease. You both moan when he finally slides into you, one of his hands coming up to cradle your face.

Yoongi’s always been so patient, much more patient than you. He gives you time to adjust to the stretch of him, his thumb sweetly caressing your cheek as you look into each other's eyes.

But that’s pretty much all the grace you get.

Once he’s sure you’re ready, the first snap of his hips has you reeling, your eyes rolling back in your head. And then he’s fucking you for real, setting a pace that has you crying out his name.

“Fuckin’ love being inside you,” he grunts, his eyes fixed on where your bodies meet so he can watch the way his cock slides in and out of you. “Pussy was made for me, wasn’t it, baby?”

You don’t think you could speak if you tried, too high on the feeling of Yoongi’s cock hitting that place inside you that makes you see stars. Instead, you turn your head, craning your neck until you can get the thumb that was rubbing your cheek into your mouth.

You love Yoongi’s hands. Love how strong and capable they are, love how gentle they can be even when he’s fucking you this hard. You could live and die with Yoongi’s fingers in your mouth and you’d be a happy, happy woman.

Yoongi groans, his thrusts growing rougher as you wrap your lips around his thumb and suck. “There’s my good girl,” he praises. “Fuck, you’re so pretty, baby.”

You preen at the praise, looking up at him through your lashes as you moan around the digit. But then Yoongi’s using his free hand to hitch your leg around his hip, driving his cock even deeper into you somehow, and you’re pulling off of his thumb with a sob.

“Yoongi! F-fuck, it’s too much—”

“You begged for this,” he growls. His thumb, slick with your spit, travels down to circle a nipple, your breath getting caught in your throat when he adds his forefinger and pinches. “You said you could handle it. So take it.”

He keeps fucking into you, rough and relentless, and even though you’ve been reduced to a sobbing mess, it feels so fucking good. So you do what he says and take what he’s giving you.

Satisfied, Yoongi dips down to lave his tongue over your other nipple, sucking it into his mouth as your hands fly to grasp at his hair.

“Nnnghh, Y-yoongi,” you moan. “Feels so g-good.”

With one final flick of his tongue against your breast, he comes back up to kiss you, his mouth moving against yours with an urgency that takes your breath away.

“I love you,” he murmurs against your lips, pressing his forehead against yours. His hands come up to cradle your face again, wiping errant tears from your cheeks. “Love you so much.”

“Love you too,” you sob, using the much-needed reprieve to catch your breath.

“Taking me so good,” he breathes, thrusts growing erratic as he pants against your mouth. “Can’t wait to give you a baby.”

You moan, clenching around him in response. “Need you to cum,” you pant, delirious. “Please, Yoongi, wan’ you to fill me up.”

“Fuck,” he moans, eyes squeezing shut as if he’s pained. “‘M gonna. Gonna fill you up so good, baby. Do me a favor and rub your clit for me, m’kay my love?”

You do as you’re told, slipping a hand between your sweaty bodies. It’s not going to take much at this point, not with how desperate he looks above you. He’s a fucking sight for sore eyes, lips bitten and pupils blown as he tracks the movement of your hand.

“Shit, you’re so sexy,” he groans. “Gonna cum.”

You’re right there with him, both of you moving in perfect synchrony as you chase your release. All it takes is a few passes of your fingers over your clit before your vision goes white, a sob escaping your throat as you feel Yoongi spill into you with a groan.

You cling to him, arms wrapped around his neck as he presses sloppy kisses to your naked shoulder. “God,” you breathe, thighs shaking when you stretch your legs out.

You both gasp for breath, skin sticking together from the sweat that’s been created between you.

“Yoongi?” you mumble. He hums, lifting his head to look down at you. “Thank you.”

“For what?” he asks, brows furrowing in confusion. Then, he grins tiredly. “For giving you the creampie of the century?”

“Ew,” you huff, flicking his forehead weakly. “No, idiot. For getting me out of my head.”

You know he knows what you mean. That’s what you do for each other. Yoongi knows how to calm you down like no one else, and you know you do the same for him. It’s a perfect give and take.

“I don’t know if this will be… If this is the time that’s gonna give us a baby,” you continue, lips twisting as your eyes water slightly. “But I can’t imagine a better man to be the father of my child. I just want you to know that.”

Yoongi softens, taking in your words. Wordlessly, he dips down, eyes fluttering shut as he kisses you tenderly.

“You are the most incredible woman I’ve ever met,” he says, his voice gentle. “I wouldn’t want to do this with anyone else.”

The two of you lay there for a long time, bodies tangled together as you process everything that just happened. What it means for both of you.

The best part of being with Yoongi, from the very beginning, was that nothing had to change for either of you. You could be married to Yoongi and to your job at the same time, build your career from the ground up and never sacrifice a thing.

But this? Having a baby? It’s all going to be sacrifice. It won’t be just you and Yoongi anymore, living in your precious little workaholic love bubble. Everything is going to change.

Funnily enough, nothing has ever felt more right.

three —

It stands to reason that you find out that you’re pregnant in the office of Look Here Magazine. Where else?

You had your suspicions this morning, when you rolled out of bed nauseous as hell. But you also had an important interview scheduled for this afternoon—surely, you were just anxious about that. But the interview went great, and you still felt like shit afterwards.

And then you got sick. Like, really sick. In the bathroom of the store you’d stopped at to grab some ginger ale, hoping that would help with the nausea.

Instead of ginger ale, though, you watched with no small amount of shame as the clerk at the register rang up a pregnancy test for you, eyeing you with thinly veiled judgement. Whatever. Jealous bitch needs to get laid.

So here you are, locked in the single stall restroom at your office, staring down at two pink lines. Fuck.

You’re shaking like a leaf. You’re fucking giddy, of course you are, but holy shit. It’s real now. It’s real, and you’re at work, and Yoongi is at his studio, and all you want to do is call him and tell him the news. Because you’re overjoyed, but you’re also terrified, and when you get like this, he’s the only one who can make you feel better.

But you can’t. You don’t want to tell him over the phone. You want to see his reaction in real time, see the gummy smile you love so much, feel his warmth when he pulls you into his arms, kiss him stupid.

So instead, you pick your phone up with trembling hands and snap a picture, sending it straight to Rina.

It’s five in the morning in Athens. You know she won’t see it for another few hours. But it still calms you down enough to clean up and exit the bathroom, returning to your desk on shaky legs.

★ ★ ★

You can’t wait, as it turns out.

It’s seven in the evening. You got off of work less than thirty minutes ago, and you’re already all the way across town, riding in an ostentatiously large elevator to get to your husband’s swanky ass studio. You definitely broke several traffic laws to get here so fast, but you don’t care. Who knows when Yoongi will get home? You need to tell him now.

When the elevator doors slide open, allowing you to step foot onto Yoongi’s floor, you start to feel sick again. For a different reason this time.

You know Yoongi’s going to be just as psyched as you are, but still, what if he’s not? What if he’s scared shitless and all of a sudden he changes his mind about this? You both wanted a baby, but it sure as shit feels completely different now that it’s real.

You don’t know what you’re going to do if he has a change of heart. Fuck. Flee the country, probably.

You put one foot in front of the other, following the familiar path to Yoongi’s studio. Your heart races as you punch in the code you know by heart, gut twisting as the whir of the lock fills your ears. And then you’re stepping inside, slipping your shoes off at the door with the expression of a sighted rabbit on your face.

Yoongi spins around in his chair, eyes widening at your unexpected presence. “Hey,” he greets, visibly puzzled as he gets up to pull you into a hug. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

“Hey,” you breathe, heartbeat thrumming in your ears. But still, it feels nice to be in his arms after the day you’ve had. “I didn’t know I was. Sorry if I’m interrupting.”

“Nah, don’t apologize. I need a break anyway,” he says, pulling away to study your face. “Everything okay?”

“Um!” you squeak out, grabbing his hands to pull him towards the couch in the corner of his studio, sinking down on the worn leather. You stare down at the material beneath you. He really needs to replace this thing. “Yes? I think so. I hope so.”

“You’re scaring the piss out of me, Y/N,” he huffs, settling down next to you. Gently, his fingers grasp your chin, lifting your head so you’re looking straight at him. “Tell me what’s going on.”

Swallowing thickly, you shift your bag into your lap, digging around in it for a moment until you can procure what you need. Shakily, you hold out two positive pregnancy tests for him to see. God, pregnancy is so gross. You’re holding pee sticks in your hand.

“I’m, um…”

“You’re pregnant,” Yoongi breathes, eyes widening in amazement as he stares at the little lines. Tearing his eyes away, he gapes at you. “You’re pregnant? We’re going to have a baby?”

“I think so,” you say, chewing at your bottom lip nervously.

“Shit,” he says, grinning so wide you can’t help but return it. “We’re going to be parents!”

Before you know it, tears are streaming down your face, even as you laugh in disbelief along with him. You never should’ve doubted him, not even for a second.

“We’re going to be parents,” you sob, still clutching the positive tests in your hand as you speak through your tears. “Can I put these down? It’s so gross. I peed on these.”

Laughing, Yoongi takes the tests from your hand and sets them aside, pulling you into his lap so he can kiss you silly. “Fuck,” he murmurs, breaking away with a sniffle. “I’m so happy.”

Fuck. He can’t do that. He can’t cry, too. You don’t think you can take it.

“Me too,” you say, wiping at your eyes. Then you smack his shoulder, sniffling yourself. “You can’t cry, stupid. You’re supposed to be the strong one.”

Another laugh bubbles up from his throat, nothing but fondness and joy in his watery eyes. “I think for the next nine months, you’re one hundred percent going to be the strong one,” he says, staring down at your belly with awe.

It’s crazy. There’s nothing there yet, but yes there is.

“Yoongi,” you whimper, mouth twisting as you try to hold back another wave of tears. “We’re going to be parents.”

“We’re going to be parents,” he repeats, swallowing thickly as he meets your eyes again. “Fuck.”

“Fuck,” you agree. You’re delirious, so happy you think you could pass out. “I love you.”

Pulling you into a tight hug, Yoongi rubs your back soothingly. “I love you so much, baby,” he breathes as he nuzzles into your hair.

Nothing has ever felt more right.

four —

Yoongi is going to kill somebody. It’s only a matter of time.

He was close, in that stupid fucking airport. It was going to be that bitchy flight attendant. It was. She’d been testing his patience all goddamn morning, getting testy every time he asked for updates on his flight, and Yoongi was already barely hanging on by a thread. But then he could practically hear your voice in his ear. Don’t be a jackass. It’s not her fault your flight is delayed, you’d say. Because you’re his voice of reason when he can’t keep himself in check.

So the flight attendant was spared.

Then, it was going to be the snot-nosed little brat that kept kicking the back of Yoongi’s seat the whole way home. He had booked the flight last minute, unable to upgrade past economy. Which was fine. It’s not like Yoongi’s a snob!

He was just already pissed off. He wanted—no, needed—to be with you, instead of cruising at 35,000 feet, stuck in his very own personal saw trap. But you’d insisted he go on this stupid ass work trip, eviscerating every single logical objection he tried to make. You were impossible to reason with lately.

So there he was.

In the end, the kid was spared, too. Only because throttling a child would probably look really bad for him, considering the circumstances.

The universe just seemed to be working against him, even after the plane touched down on the tarmac. Because of course! Of course it took him forever to find his stupid suitcase. Of course it took him even longer to get an Uber. Of course there was traffic on the way! Why not? What’s one more ‘fuck you, Min Yoongi’?

And of course, when he finally makes it, when he’s panting and out of breath, suitcase in hand as he searches wildly for the room number he was texted, the first person he sees is not you.

“Well look what the cat dragged in!”

Yeah, Rina might not make it. He’s sure you’ll understand.

Yoongi appreciates Rina, he really does. He tries to be there for you when you need him, but sometimes, despite his best efforts, he can’t be. It’s just the way life works. But Rina always steps in when she’s needed. Today is a great example.

That being said, Rina also has a tendency to step in when she’s not needed. Or particularly wanted. Like the entire past month, living in his guest bedroom to dote on you even though—apart from the work trip you insisted he go on—Yoongi has literally been working from home since month six, at your beck and call.

Yoongi gets it. Rina is your best friend. He knows you’ve been elated to have her closeby this past month. But still, Yoongi would’ve paid for a hotel room for her or something. It’s been a little weird trying to, like, fuck his super hot pregnant wife knowing her best friend is just across the hall.

“Hi, Rina,” he says, deadpan even as he’s catching his breath. “Wanna point me in the direction of my wife?”

“She’s piiiiiissed at you,” Rina sing-songs, grinning like the cat that ate the canary.

Yoongi’s eye twitches.

“Because I’m late?” he guesses.

“Because you impregnated her in the first place.”

“Great,” he says, choosing not to engage. He points at a door. “There?”

“Good luck, champ,” Rina says in response, waving him through. Like he needs fucking permission to see you. Don’t engage don’t engage don’t engage.

Huffing, he opens the door to what he can only hope is actually your room, closing it softly behind him.

“Yoongi,” you warble.

There you are.

Suddenly, it’s like none of the events that have transpired today matter one fucking bit. Not the frantic voicemail he’d woken up to, the delayed flight, the bratty kid, none of it.

You look like an angel. A very pregnant, very stressed angel, but his angel nonetheless.

“Baby,” he breathes. He’s by your side in an instant, carding his fingers through your hair. “I’m sorry I’m late.”

“How was your trip?” you ask, leaning into his touch so sweetly. Man, he missed you.

“About as pointless as I thought it’d be. Just wanted to be with you the whole time.”

“Well, you’re here now.”

“Yeah. I’m here now,” he hums, pressing a kiss to your sweaty temple. “How are you feeling?”

You huff at that, staring up at him like he’s stupid. Or like Rina wasn’t lying when she said you’re pissed at him.

“Like my vagina will never be the same again, thanks to you,” you grumble. “I can’t believe I let you do this to me. I’m going to make you pay, Min Yoongi.”

“Feel free,” he huffs, unable to suppress the small smile quirking at the corners of his lips. He can’t help it. You can be pissed at him all you want, he’s just happy to see you. “I’ll even remind you, if you want. Do you want me to put a date on your calendar?”

“Don’t push it,” you grit out, glaring daggers at him.

“You’re the only one doing the pushing today, baby.”

“God, I hope so,” you whine. “Get this thing out of me! It’s not fair that you get to be a DILF and I have to be all big and gross.”

A DILF???

“Baby,” Yoongi coos, doing his best to stifle the laughter threatening to break free. “You’re so beautiful, Y/N. You’re glowing.”

“It’s sweat,” you deadpan.

“No, I’m serious,” he insists, taking your hands in his despite the way you try to whack him away. Despite his amusement, he’s completely sincere when he says, “You are the most beautiful woman in the world. Don’t be like that.”

“Really?” you pout.

Yoongi nods sagely, squeezing your hands. “One hundred percent a MILF.”

You groan, whacking his hands away in irritation, successfully this time. “Make yourself useful and go get me some ice chips, motherfucker.”

He snorts, backing towards the door with a little salute. “Yes ma’am,” he says. “I’ll be back in a few. I love you.”

“I love you too. Asshole.”

As he slips out of your room, he swears he catches the corners of your lips turning up, although you try valiantly to hide it.

Yeah. You’re going to be just fine.

five —

It’s been nine months—thirty six weeks, because apparently babies are measured in weeks for some reason—since Min Penny was brought into this world. Yoongi doesn’t think he’ll ever get sick of looking at her.

She looks so much like you, it’s crazy. Every time he says that, you’re quick to tell him just how wrong he is—that she has Yoongi’s nose, Yoongi’s eyes, Yoongi’s smile—but when he looks at her, all he sees is you.

He loves it. She’s perfect.

She sleeps every night in a crib that Yoongi built, surrounded by stuffed animals that you handpicked, in a home that you two have made together.

Yoongi couldn’t be happier.

The three of you have spent the last week or so in Daegu, and Yoongi’s parents have had ample time to get plenty of pictures and shower Penny with gifts that she proceeds to shove in her mouth at every opportunity.

It’s time to head back home, but not before a little detour.

The weather is perfect today, giving both of you an opportunity to celebrate Penny’s (belated) half birthday the way you’ve been wanting to. A little overcast, but not so much that there’s a chance of rain. Really, it couldn’t be any better.

Yoongi’s always hated the beach, but a weekend trip to Jeju with his family didn’t sound half bad when you’d pitched it. And now that he’s here, sprawled out on a blanket on Jungmun Saekdal Beach while you shovel Jolly Pong into Penny’s waiting mouth, he couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.

When Penny grows disinterested in the Jolly Pong, you take a moment to adjust the little yellow sun hat you’d bought for her earlier and then lean back on your hands.

“Isn’t that view beautiful?” you sigh.

It’s so silly. You’re gazing out into the water, eyes sparkling as you take in the scenery in front of you. It’s beautiful here, it is. Yoongi hasn’t been to Jeju in a long time, and he’s sure the view is just as beautiful as you say. But all Yoongi can see is you. You, the amazing mother of his child.

You’re radiant, glowing in a way that he’s never seen before. Even after all this time, you never fail to take his breath away.

“Yeah,” he hums, his hand curling around yours where it rests in the sand. “It is.”

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eveninglakehomeworld · 3 months ago

Text

hi friends and lovers, I've gathered a small collection of dialogues from Zevran in DA:O regarding Antiva & the Crows.

I got this together mostly for myself, but thought I'd share in case anyone who is maybe looking to flesh out their new Crow OC, write fanfic involving Crow characters, or is looking for a refresher on early Crow lore would like something to reference. I trimmed down dialogues a bit, so mostly just information relevant to the Crows, Antiva in general, and Zevran's own attitudes about being an assassin are present.

this post has dialogues from Zev's recruitment event and a couple of early game camp conversations. because it's only a handful of dialogues, this is, ostensibly, part 1 of several. I plan to post more as I progress through my replay of origins. enjoy! <3

Recruitment

Warden: "What are the Antivan Crows?"

Leliana: I can tell you that. They are an order of assassins out of Antiva. Very powerful, and renowned for always getting the job done... so to speak. Someone went to great expense to hire this man.

Zevran: Quite right. I'm surprised you haven't heard much of the Crows out here. Back where I come from, we're rather infamous.

Warden: "You came all the way from Antiva?"

Zevran: Not precisely. I was in the neighborhood when the offer came. The Crows get around, you see.

[After being asked if he's loyal to Loghain]

Zevran: Beyond that, no, I'm not loyal to him. I was contracted to perform a service.

Warden: "And now that you've failed that service?"

Zevran: Well, that's between Loghain and the Crows. And between the Crows and myself.

Warden: "When were you to see him next?"

Zevran: I wasn't. If I had succeeded, I would have returned home and the Crows would have informed your Loghain of the results... if he didn't already know. If I had failed, I would be dead. Or I should be, at least, as far as the Crows are concerned. No need to see Loghain then.

Warden: "How much were you paid?"

Zevran: I wasn't paid anything. The Crows, however, were paid quite handsomely. Or so I understand. Which does make me about as poor as a chantry mouse, come to think of it. Being an Antivan Crow isn't for the ambitious, to be perfectly honest.

Warden: "Then why are you one?"

Zevran: Well, aside from a distinct lack of ambition, I suppose it's because I wasn't give much of a choice. The Crows bought me young. I was a bargain, too, or so I'm led to believe. But don't let my sad story influence you. The Crows aren't so bad. They keep one well supplied: Wine, women, men. Whatever you happen to fancy. Though, the whole severance package is garbage, let me tell you. If you were considering joining, I'd really think twice about it.

Warden: "Aren't you at least loyal to your employers?"

Zevran: Loyalty is an interesting concept. If you wish, and you're done interrogating me, we can discuss it further.

Warden: "I'm listening. Make it quick."

Zevran: Well, here's the thing. I failed to kill you, so my life is forfeit. That's how it works. If you don't kill me, the Crows will. Thing is, I like living. And you obviously are the sort to give the Crows pause. So let me serve you, instead.

Warden: "And what's to stop you from finishing the job later?"

Zevran: To be completely honest, I was never given much of a choice regarding joining the Crows. They bought me on the slave market when I was a child. I think I've paid my worth back to them, plus tenfold. The only way out, however, is to sign up with someone they can't touch. Even if I did kill you now, they might kill me just on the principle of failing the first time. Honestly, I'd rather take my chances with you.

Warden: "Won't they come after you?"

Zevran: Possibly. I happen to know their wily ways, however. I can protect myself, as well as you. Not that you seem to need much help. And if not, well, it's not as if I had many alternatives to start with, is it?

Warden: "Why would I want your service?"

Zevran: Why? Because I am skilled at many things, from fighting to stealth and picking locks. I could also warn you should the Antivan Crows attempt something more... sophisticated... now that my attempts have failed.

A few early game camp conversations

Conversation 1 Warden: "What does it take to become an assassin?"

Zevran: Well, the Crows would have you believe that it is an involved process that takes years of training, the sort that tests both your resolve and your endurance. Survive that process and maybe, just maybe, you're good enough to start being considered one of them. But quite frankly the truth is that all it requires is a desire to kill people for a living. It's surprising how well one can do in such a field.

Warden: "It doesn't take any special skill?"

Zevran: I don't know about that. It's simply a slightly different skill set from your average killer, as I see it. An assassin simply specializes in striking from stealth... and in maximizing that first attack to be as lethal as possible. Debilitating your foe, either by poison or by crippling their limbs, makes any follow-up combat you need to engage in that much simpler.

Warden: "That sounds like it could be useful."

Zevran: See? Getting paid for the act is beside the point. An assassin is more a tactical choice than a lifestyle. Of course, the Crows like to pretend that their abilities are trade secrets, shrouded in shadows and wrapped in a blanket of mystery. So let's just keep this between you and me, shall we, hmm?

Conversation 2 Warden: "Why did you want to leave the Crows, exactly?"

Zevran: Well, now, I imagine that's a very fair question. Being an assassin, after all, is a living, at least as far as such things go. I was simply never given the opportunity to choose another way. So if that choice presents itself, why should I not seize upon it?

Warden: "You didn't choose the Crows?"

Zevran: Mm? To be truthful, I didn't even know the Crows existed when I joined them. I was but a boy of seven when I was purchased. For three sovereigns, I'm told. Which is a good price, considering I was all ribs and bone and didn't know the pommel of a dagger from the pointy end. The Crows buy all their assassins that way. Buy them young, raise them to know nothing else but murder. And if you do poorly in your training, you die.

Warden: "That sounds awful."

Zevran: "Oh, I don't know about that. The Crows who are actually good enough to survive come to enjoy some of the benefits. In Antiva, being a Crow gets you respect. It gets you wealth. It gets you women... and men, or whatever it is you might fancy. But that does mean doing what is expected of you, always. And it means being expendable. It's a cage, if a gilded cage. Pretty, but confining. [note: I transcribed the first line of the last section as it was written in the subtitles because it seemed to make more sense in context, but when Zevran speaks it aloud he actually says "That does not mean doing what is expected of you." presumably an editing error, but can't be 100% positive which is the intended message.]

[After being asked what he thinks his future might hold]

Zevran: As for what I'll do in the future... presuming that there is one... I truly can't imagine. It might be interesting to go into business for myself, for a change. Far away from Antiva, of course. For now, naturally, I go where you go.

Warden: "Won't the Crows eventually find you?"

Zevran: [laughs] Eventually can be a very, very long time if one plays one's cards right. Come, now. Enough chit-chat. Talking about the Crows summons them, you know. Any Antivan fishwife could tell you so.

Conversation 3 Warden: "Do you actually enjoy being an assassin?"

Zevran: And why not? There are many things to enjoy about being a Crow in Antiva. You are respected. You are feared. The authorities go out of their way to overlook your trespasses. Even the rewards are nothing to turn your nose up at. As for the killing part, well... some people simply need assassinating. Or do you disagree?

Warden: "You've never killed an innocent?"

Zevran: Now there's an interesting word, "innocent." How many men do you know who can claim to truly be innocent? But if you're talking generalities, such as children and relatives and bystanders and such... never on purpose, but it happens. It's unfortunate, but death comes to us all. If not me, then some wasting disease. Or a fall down the stairs. Or at the hands of a darkspawn. It's all relative in the end.

Warden: "I suppose that's true."

Zevran: "Death happens," as we like to say. And when I get paid for it, death happens more often. As far as enjoying the act of killing itself, why not? There is a certain artistry to the deed, the pleasure of sinking your blade into their flesh and knowing that their life is in your hands.

Warden: "I know what you mean."

Zevran: There are many things I did not enjoy about being a Crow, of course. Having no choice, being treated as an expendable commodity, the rules... oh, so many rules! But, simply being an assassin? I like it just fine. I will continue to do it, if I can, even if I am not a Crow. Honestly, could you picture me doing something else?

Conversation 4 [note: I trimmed this one down a lot bc it's just one of the ones where he tells you about a job and there's not a lot to be gleaned about Antiva, how the Crows operate, etc] [In response to being asked, "The Crows were willing to anger the Circle of Magi?"]

Zevran: In Antiva, nobody is too important to escape the reach of the Crows. They have killed kings and queens. That's simply how it is.

[After elaborating on how he fumbled an assassination attempt and the mark died accidentally, instead of by his hand]

Zevran: Then I found out she had told the driver to take her to Genellan instead. She has planned to lose me in the provinces. I would have looked very foolish to the Crows. As it was, my master was very impressed that I had done such a fine job of making it look like an accident. The Circle of Magi was unaware of foul play, and everyone was happier all around.

Conversation 5 Warden: "Tell me a little about Antiva."

Zevran: Oh? You wish to know about Antiva, do you? The only way to truly appreciate it would be to go there. It is a warm place, not cold and harsh like this Ferelden. In Antiva it rains often, but the flowers are always in bloom... or so the saying goes.

Warden: "Don't you want to go back?"

Zevran: [sighs] It is not really a matter of wanting to go back. I cannot go. At least not yet. I hail from the glorious Antiva City, home to the royal palace. It is a glittering gem amidst the sand, my Antiva City. Do you come from someplace comparable?

Warden: "I'm not from any glittering gem, no."

Zevran: No? That is too bad. If you were, then surely you would spend as much time boasting about it as I do! Hmm. You know what is most odd? We speak of my homeland, and for all its wine and its dark-haired beauties and the lillo flutes of the minstrels... I miss the leather the most.

Warden: "Is that some kind of euphemism?"

Zevran: [laughs] It may as well be! But not this once, no. I mean the smell. For years I lived in a tiny apartment near Antiva City's leather-making district, in a building where the Crows stored their youngest recruits. Packed in like crates. I grew accustomed to the stench, even though the humans complained of it constantly. To this day the smell of fresh leather is what reminds me most of home more than anything else.

Warden: "That's a little bizarre. There's leather everywhere."

Zevran: Ah, but it's not Antivan leather, is it? I do not know what the Antivan tanners do that is different, but ther is no leather more supple nor more fragrant.

Warden: "You sound like you've been away from home forever."

Zevran: Oh, not so long, I know. It is my first time away from Antiva, however, and the thought of never returning makes me think of it constantly. Before I left, I was tempted to spend what little coin I possessed on leather boots I spotted in a store window. Finest Antivan leather, perfect craftsmanship—ah, but I was a fool to leave them. I thought, "Ah, Zevran, you can buy them when you return as a reward from a job well done." More the fool I, no?

Warden: "Your home is still there, Zevran."

Zevran: True, and it's a comforting thought. One simply never knows what is to come next.

Now, if it is all the same to you, I would prefer not to speak more of Antiva. It makes me wistful and hungry for a proper meal.

Bonus banter snippet because I found it amusing:

Morrigan: You assassin types have a death wish, I see.

Zevran: [laughs] Only the really good ones.

#dragon age #zevran #zevran arainai #antivan crows #hopefully someone besdides myself finds this useful and im not just clogging up tags!!#yapping #daoblogging

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d0rothydraws · 5 months ago

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So I saw a reel on Insta theorising that Sylus is a fallen angel (very Lucifer coded)... would love to see that concept in a fic.. maybe wings could be involved 🤭 but will leave the specifics to you!

Sorry this took so long! also thank you for being my first request <3 I really appreciate it and I hope you like it

After you almost die from a surprise attack, you were saved. Waking up, you have a few questions for a certain someone.

Content: f!reader, switch!Sylus, slight praise kink, angel!Sylus. 18+

w/c: 3.7k

ao3: Here

a/n: I enjoyed writing this one! It was different than what I'm used to which was enjoyable. I wasn't quite sure where to take it so I hope its ok. Also happy kinktober! Let me know if theres any special kinks or prompts you want to see this month and I'll add it to the list.

It started off fine. Just a couple wanderers. It was a solo mission, nothing you haven't done before. It was late at night, almost 11. As the first wanderer fell to the ground in a heavy heap the second one lunged at you. Dodging, your sword caught it on its side making it cry in pain.

You pushed it farther, digging your sword between its crystalized ribs, groaning as you turned the blade. You felt a satisfying feeling deep inside you. This would be over soon, you told yourself. Just this one and you can go home and shower. Have a warm meal, catch up on your shows and go to bed.

Your body felt airborne. Weightless. And then, pain. Sharp paralyzing pain as your body was flung across the ground. A third wanderer appeared out of nowhere. Twice the size of the others and it was out for blood. You didn’t know if wanderers had families. But if they did, this one would most definitely be the mother of the two you just slaughtered. You felt weak, faint even. As you tried to stand, to defend yourself, a sound that you didn’t even recognize came out of your throat. An agonizing scream of pain as you tried to move your body from whatever the monster had launched you into. You didn’t know if you were impaled or crushed. All you knew is that your vision was fading fast, a vignette of black teasing the corners of your vision.

Your chest tightened as you tried one more time. If you stayed, you would be dead. Simple as that. But when you moved, it felt like you were being ripped in two. You felt something wet against your side. Most likely blood. You moved to try and use the device around your wrist, to call for help, for backup. For anyone. The feeling was gone from your fingers. Numb. Cold.

You never thought that your life would end like this. You weren’t going to lie to yourself and say you had no regrets. You did. More than a handful and if you were given a second chance maybe things would have been different. You would enjoy your friends more, don’t take the people you love for granted. And most importantly, tell the people those same people.. or person.. that you love him.

A cold chill trailed through your body. You never told Sylus that you loved him. Sure, you had been early in your relationship. Maybe it was off to a rocky start but you had never felt so appreciated and cared for by any person in your life. Your hands curled into fists, your eyes burning with the realization of not only have you never told him that you loved him, but that was going to be your final thought as this wanderer rips your throat out. Tears burned your eyes as you took a shaky breath. The creature was circling you in the air. Wingspan twice as wide as you were tall. Your heart raced as you felt it begin to fly straight down to you. You closed your eyes, taking another deep breath to utter one last word.

“Sylus.”

A strong breeze flew past you. Your body braced for impact that never came. You opened your eyes, your vision blurry. A tall man stood in front of you. His back was to you, even in your slowly dying state it looked like… no it couldn’t be. It couldn't be because no matter how hard you focused, how many times you blinked, or squinted there was a pair of large black wings coming from the man's back. A stark contrast to the white hair that you knew so well. You heard a scream, the pained scream of the wanderer as it exploded from… whatever he did to it. You weren’t in a position to really tell or frankly care. You were dying. You felt your heart start to weaken, your body growing numb from the blood loss.

Warmth enveloped you. Strong arms carefully lifted you as if you were a fragile doll. Soft lips brushed your forehead as you felt the wind suddenly flow past you. The last thing you remembered was the sound of his heartbeat. As fast as ever, before you passed out.

Your eyes fluttered open.. Quickly you sat up, bracing yourself for the hot scorching pain that you remember. And yet, it never came. As your eyes adjusted to the candle lit room, oh so familiar to you. Sylus’ bedroom. Your heart raced. Why was there no pain? Was it just a vivid dream? And more importantly, where was Sylus. The memories flooded your mind. The feeling of the wind against your skin, the soft feathers that encased you in a warmth that you couldn’t describe. It felt so real.

The sound of footsteps made you turn your head as you seen Sylus at the doorway with a plate of warm food. Your stomach growled. It felt like you haven’t eaten for days suddenly. And maybe you haven’t. Even as your body screamed for the food though you couldn’t be bothered. Not when the candle light was flickering against his face like that. Not when his eyes rivaled the fire of those same candles. Only one thought was on your mind right now.

“What happened?” You said, trying to sound as stern as you could muster. You knew he would try to brush it under the rug. But you needed answers. To your question he only sat the tray of food on your lap, his eyes softer than usual as he looked at your face. Gently a hand cake to your cheek, brushing the softness of your skin.

“Eat first.” He said, gentle but unwavering. “Then questions.” His hand lingered for a moment longer. Long enough for his facade to crack just slightly. Concern and worry flicker in those eyes. Your heart skipped a beat as you took a soft breath and did as he said. As you eat he sits on the end of the bed by your feet, his hand gently caressing your leg.

“You're not allowed to go off fighting on your own anymore.” His words were stern, sending a cold shiver through you. The sound of his voice though was almost strained as if he was trying to hold something back. “You are very capable, but I can't risk losing you.” He said his voice softer as his hand continued to rub your legs under the blanket. You couldn't really blame him for being so worried. You were on the brink of death. Which brought you to your next question.

“Sylus.” You said softly, setting the food to the side as you moved to sit up more on the bed. “I was dying. I could feel it. How am i..” you paused trying to think of the words. “Not only alive, but there's not even a scratch on me.” You whispered, feeling your heart race with anticipation.

Sylus didn't answer, as if he was trying to think of his own answer. Your mind thought back to the moments before you passed out. The fear. Your final thought being of him. And in the last second it was as if..

As if an angel appeared.

As if a prayer was answered.

Sylus must have noticed your eyes widened slightly at your thoughts. You body stiffening slightly as you looked at him. You moved to your knees, crawling over to him as if to examine him. He didn't flinch or speak. Your hands moved over his back softly. Even over his shirt it felt normal. And you've seen him shirtless enough times to know that he didn't have any outstanding scars on his back that would indicate..

“Are you looking for something, sweetie?” He finally said as you lifted his shirt to get a closer look. His voice was teasing and yet there was a slight edge to it. You didn't say anything as you pulled the shirt over his head, leaving him shirtless. Positioned behind him on the bed, sitting on your knees, you ran your hands over his back. Tracing where you thought you had seen the wings. Very faintly you heard Sylus take in a breath, the muscles of his back flexing. Your hands continued, beginning to trail down his spine.

“You had wings.” You said finally, it was not a question. The tension in the room was thick enough that it was almost hard to breathe. A soft chuckle broke the long silence which didn't help.

“Kitten you were passed out by the time I found-”

“No.” You said sternly. You weren't playing this game. Something came over you and you didn't know what. Suddenly moving from behind him, you used a hand to push him back onto the bed. In a second you were sitting on his chest looking down at him, frown on your face, eyes staring into his. The look of genuine surprise filled you with adrenaline.

“We both know that I was awake. I know what I saw. And you had wings. Big. Black. Wings.” You said, each word enunciated. You seen a look that you never seen behind his eyes. Hesitation. It passed in a blink of an eye as he smirked, raising his eyebrows. Hands moved to your hips, fingers sinking into your skin.

“Tell me, sweetie.” He said, his voice oozing with a condescending tone. “How exactly could I have wings? You just checked me. No wings, correct?” He said his voice confident and proud as ever.

You looked down at him, hating the smug look on his face. You sounded insane but you knew what you had seen. Not only that, you didn't have a single scratch on you. You weren't even sore. You took a deep breath, preparing yourself for your next words.

“You're an angel.”

You didn't know what you expected but you really didn't expect the sound of him laughing. A deep guttural laugh. Your lips tightened into a thin line as you glared down at him. Was he mocking you? His eyes were filled with so much amusement.

“I'm flattered, truly.” He said as he chuckled a few more times. “Humor me again kitten. Why would you think I'm an angel?” Sylus said, the laugh not reaching his eyes. Your body tensed. It felt like you said something you shouldn’t have. But you weren’t backing down. You weren’t going to let him gaslight you. Taking a deep breath you tried to not let your voice betray you.

“First, you appeared when I called your name. Second, there isn’t a scratch on me even though I was dying. Third..” You trailed off not wavering your eyes from his. The tension was thick. Your third remark was only half a joke but you hoped it would help ease how tense everything was. “Third, you’re too pretty to be human.” You said with a half laugh but part of it truly resonated with you. It was said Lucifer was extremely handsome even after he became a fallen angel. Sylus’ eyebrow raised as he looked up at you as if processing your words. Just when you were about to think of something to say to break the silence he finally spoke.

“I truly thought I was going to lose you.” He said softly. His expression changed as his hand moved to cup your cheek. Your breath caught softly. He didn’t deny it. Didn’t deny a single one of your words. “I never expected things to go this way, though when it comes to you, things are unpredictable.” He said sitting up, sliding you down to straddle his waist. “With how severe your injuries were, I didn’t think you would truly believe what you saw.”

“So it’s true.” You whispered, your breath catching as you lifted a hand to caress his face. You trailed over his jaw, his cheek. “You’re an angel?” Your voice started to give away. You had dealt with the supernatural before. Wanderers, mermen, aliens, but angels? This was a new one. He leaned his cheek against your hand, his eyes soft as he chuckled, enjoying the look on your face.

“Once I was. And now I am not. I suppose fallen angel is the correct term you would use.” He said, his thumb brushing the curve of your chin as his other hand held your waist. Tilting your head to look up at him, his voice dropped an octave, making you shiver. “Though the reason I've fallen… shall remain a secret for now.” He said as his forehead rested on yours, his breath grazing your lips. Your heart fluttered. He was so close. You couldn’t stop the temptation of closing the distance.

The kiss was slow, tender. As if you had all of the time in the world. As you kissed him, the thumb on your chin moved to your cheek, holding you there as his lips embraced yours. Even as you kissed him though, one thought trailed through your mind. Painfully so. The memory of what you were sure was to be your final thought. Your biggest regret. Not telling Sylus that you loved him.

You felt a rush of adrenaline rush through your body, your heart beginning to race as you broke the kiss, looking up at him. You tried to use words, your mouth opening but your brain wouldn’t cooperate. As he looked down at you, piercing red eyes staring down at you with a mix of curiosity and desire, you followed your instincts. You put your hand on his chest, gently tracing the defined muscles and skin that stretched across his body before you pushed him down onto his back. His eyes widened for a second, his hands moving to your hips as your lips found his again in a rougher, deeper kiss.

Nails bit your sides as he gripped harder, your teeth pulling at his bottom lip before pushing your tongue into his mouth. One hand curled in his hair, pulling slightly as you made him lean his head back more so you could kiss him harder, deeper. Your hips circled against his quickly hardening cock. There weren’t many times you got to be on top like this, and you were going to take advantage of every second. You felt him groan against your lips as your hand kept a firm grip on his hair. Pulling away from this kiss, his bottom lip between your teeth as you did, you looked down at him. Panting slightly your voice dropped to a low whisper.

“You are beautiful, aren’t you? My handsome angel.” You said as you leaned down to kiss the shell of his ear, teeth grazing the cartilage. “My own guardian angel.” You felt the shiver of his body under you, the hitch of breath. It clearly was a soft spot. One that you were going to prod and push until you couldn’t. Your lips moved down his neck, your hands trailing back over his chest as you gave a soft moan, letting yourself enjoy the feeling of his body under yours. His muscles twitched as your hands caressed him, lips kissing down his neck. “You really do like when I praise you, don’t you?” You whispered against his neck.

You felt his hands grip your hips tighter as a shiver ran down his spine. His breath caught as you circled your hips again. It was as if you could feel him start to lose his composure under your touch. His voice was strained as he finally spoke.

“You don’t want to know what happens when you call me that.” Sylus said, his hands moving to your thighs, groaning as you moved your hips against him again. You chuckled softly against his neck, lips kissing down to his shoulder. Your hands moved down his sides, nails gently scratching along his skin.

“Oh, and what’s that, my angel?” You purred, your body moving lower down his. Lips at his nipple as you looked up to meet his eyes that were looking down at you. Eyes that watched as your tongue flicked out against the nipple and how you smirked at his small gasp. “Relax. Let me reward my guardian angel for saving me.” You whispered against his skin.

Your tongue flicked his nipple again, hands moving to peel off his pants. As they were discarded with a little of his help, you moved your hand to the bulge that was hard between his thighs. A low goan echoed in the room as you began to shift his boxers down next, freeing him. Gently, your hand wrapped around his cock, twitching softly in your hand. His head leaned back as he groaned again, hips thrusting against your hand.

“Oh, you do like that, don’t you? All I’ve done is call you a pretty angel and you’re hard for me.” You said looking down at him. There has only been a handful of times that you’ve been able to see him blush like this. And each time sends adrenaline through your system like a shockwave. It was like a drug. Especially as you kept stroking his cock, thumb rubbing against the tip that was beginning to leak.

“Of course I do, kitten.” He groaned, looking up as you sat on his thighs. His hand moved against the skin of your inner thigh, tracing the outline or your panties. “How could I not when you’re on me like this, using such pretty words?” His voice was a low timber that made your hand around his cock tighten just a little. His mouth opened in a low moan, hips buckling slightly. You grinned down at him, eyes hungry. He was putty in your hands.

His moan distracted you from his hands moving your panties to the side. Suddenly you gasped as his fingers grazed past your lips. Wasting no time he moved a finger inside you making you gasp out a moan. He buckled into your hand as he added a second finger quickly after the first, You moved your hips against his hand, eyes half closing as his thumb pressed against your clit.

Suddenly you moved your hand from his cock, lifting your hips away from his fingers. His eyebrows knitted as he was about to make a comment before he saw you begin to adjust yourself over him. You see a fire behind his eyes ignite. Lowering yourself onto him you cried out, you both moaning in unison at the feeling. Slowly you lowered yourself all the way until you were sitting on his lap. Circling your hips, his hands came to grab them. In a swift motion you felt yourself be lifted slightly as if you were weightless before being brought back down onto him.

Your eyes widened as you cried out, gasping from the feeling. His hips met the movement, a low moan fell from his lips as he lifted you a few more times, hips fucking up into you. You laid your chest against his, kissing him through your moans. You loved that he could handle you like this. Like you weighed nothing. His kiss was deep, rough, hungry, matching the vigor of his movements.

You felt a gust of wind around you, gasping you pulled back slightly, looking up at Sylus. Spread out under him on the bed were those wings. Dark as night, the feathers having a vague red undertone. His movements slowed slowly, his cock still deep inside you as you reached out to brush your hand against the feathers. He gasped softly, you felt his cock twitch inside you. And as you did it again, your back was suddenly against the bed, hands above your head as he looked down at you. The dim candle light of the room illuminates his silhouette like a painting. Wings embracing you on each side of the bed. Closing you off from the world. The only thing you could see was him and him alone.

“It’s polite to ask before you touch, sweetie.” He said, breath heavy as he moved his free hand to reposition him against you again. Before you could say anything he thrusted back inside you. Your legs wrapped around his waist and you felt the feathers brush against your skin. You couldn’t take your eyes off of the sight. His face flushed, body above yours as he fucked into you. Moaning and grunting with each thrust. You knew you wouldn’t last long but your orgasm rushed through you suddenly. Your eyes widened as you felt the coil in your stomach break, hips arching against him, his name on your lips. And then, not realizing it, another set of words followed.

“I love you.”

You gasped the words out in a heat of passion but you knew you genuinely believed them. But you couldn’t help but feel a little embarrassed that this is the first time you said it. Sylus’ thrusts slowed as he looked down at you. His eyes suddenly soft, almost curious as his hand let go of your wrists to cup your face. Your words did not go unnoticed. And you could see that they had an effect on him.

“I know.” He said gently, his nose brushing against yours. “But it is nice to hear you finally say it.” He whispered, lips brushing against yours as he tilted your head to meet his eyes. “I love you too.”

His hips moved slowly, deeply. You gasped as your hands moved to claw his back, brushing against the area where the wings met his skin. He groaned softly, gasping. You couldn't stop touching the area again, fingers brushing and trailing along the sensitive wings. He didn’t pin your hands above your head this time, though. He let you continue as you felt his thrusts get more and more desperate. His body tensed under your hands.

Sylus closed his eyes, moaning as his mouth opened with the sound of your name on his lips. Hips stuttering as he released inside you. He rode it out, gasping as you continued to touch and tease this new sensitive part of his body. After a few moments his movements stopped as he rested his forehead against yours. His eyes opened, seeing yours looking up at him.

You arched up, kissing him softly. Pulling away you smiled, a hand cupping his cheek.

“I love you.”

#love and deepspace #sylus #lads #lads sylus #love and deepspace sylus #l&ds #sylus x reader #fic #love and deepspace x reader #lads x reader #sylus x you #lnds smut

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bad-and-drawn-that-way · 1 year ago

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Let me just say, I absolutely adore your writing so much!! Your More Than Anything series with Vox is honestly one of, if not my favorite Vox series!!!❤💙 I was wondering if you could do a kind of silly, fluffy imagine with Vox where they're in their early stages of flirting/crushing and the reader avoids the topic of kissing... because they think Vox isn't able to kiss with his screen? Literally before episode 8, the question in my mind was "Can the dorky TV man kiss?" And then we got confirmation he most DEFINITELY could 🤣 I just think it'd be so cute and funny for that to be something the reader was wondering as well but wasn't sure how to ask him about it without being weird lol

Oh my goodness, such high praise aaaa! I actually have a scene in my Ao3 fic based on the same concept! I'd be happy to write some awkward smoochums! This guy is such a fucking dork and I love him.

Assumptions [Vox x Reader Fluff]

You and Vox had been dating for a month and the overlord was on the verge of insanity. He knew that Valentino had much more intense needs when it came to physical affection than most, but he wasn't expecting such a drastic shift in needs when it came to you.

He knew that being in a real relationship was very different from what he'd experienced before with his fellow overlord. But he thought the two of you would have done something by now. Not even necessarily sex. (Although he'd definitely been fantasizing about that more than he cared to admit.)

The two of you had cuddled, slept in the same bed, and even h*ld h*nds, but you hadn't kissed yet and it wasn't for his lack of trying. He'd invited you on romantic dates and set up several perfect opportunities. But whenever he'd try to go for it, you'd always pull away before he had the chance.

He didn't understand. The two of you had been doing so well. You always seemed to be swept up in the little heated moments just as much as he was, so why?!

Vox had been completely distracted during his entire news segment and groaned as slipped into his secluded dressing room. If it wasn't for the fact that he caught sight of you in his mirror, he probably would have flipped out when he felt your arms slip around him from behind.

"What are you doing here?" he chuckled as he lifted a hand to rest on one of your arms.

"I missed you," you smile, squeezing him gently before letting go. "And I saw that..." you cringe. "Performance. You seemed off. Is something on your mind?"

Vox's eyes widened and he cursed himself mentally for putting on a subpar show in front of the camera. If you noticed, then the audience probably did as well. No one really gave half a fuck about the news, but ratings were ratings.

"It's nothing," Vox muttered. "It's just..."

He looks up at you with an unreadable expression and you gasp as he reaches up and gently takes hold of your chin. His brow furrows as he tucks your hair behind your ear and your heart races a million miles per second as he searches your blushing face for something. His eyes flick down to your lips and he slowly starts to lean, only for you to suddenly push him away.

"A-Anyways I just wanted to check in on you and see if we were still on for a movie tonight," you stammered.

Vox froze, not listening to your ramblings as he processed your deflection. He felt a sharp, cold sting of rejection in his chest and wondered if maybe you weren't as interested in the relationship as he hoped. His heart started to break, but then he noticed the way you were blushing.

"Why?" He asked quietly.

"Well, I just thought maybe you wanted to-"

"No," Vox grit his teeth as he grabbed you by the shoulders. "Why the fuck won't you kiss me? Every time I try, you pull away. We're dating, so why?"

You blinked up at him owlishly, your jaw hanging open before you grabbed his arms and breathed, "You can kiss?!"

Vox's brow furrowed as he looked you over, "Wh- The fuck are you on about? Yes, I can fucking kiss! I've been trying to kiss you for the past three goddamn weeks!"

You gasped before burying your face in your hands and groaning. "Oh my god, I thought... There were a couple times that I wondered, but this whole time I didn't think you could and I didn't want to be weird and..."

Vox stood taller as he processed your words. You didn't hate him. You weren't repulsed by him. You were just...

He burst out laughing, clutching his stomach as he absolutely lost it. "O-Oh my god! You're such a fucking idiot!"

Your face was burning with embarrassment. You knew he wasn't being malicious, but you were still mortified at the misunderstanding. "Oh shut up! It's not my fault you're a flat-faced fucker!"

You were about to go bury your shame into the couch, fully expecting him to hold this against you for the rest of the day, but you were barely able to take two steps before Vox intervened.

You let out a startled yelp as you felt his claws wrap around your arm and yank you back. In the split second it took you to blink, he'd trapped you against a wall. You flinched as his hands slammed against either side of your head, trapping you as he grinned down at you.

"You are so fucking stupid," he snickered.

Your face only grew warmer as your heart pounded with mixed anger, embarrassment, and something else entirely due to the position he had you in. His hand traces lightly over your cheek before cupping the side of your face as he looks at you with the softest expression you'd ever seen from him.

You gasp as he leans down and presses his lips against yours. Your entire body feels like tiny fireworks are dancing lightly over your skin. You shiver as your hands instinctively reach up to grasp at his vest when he pulls you close.

You're both breathing much harder than is necessary when he pulls away. For a moment you just look at each other with half-lidded gazes as you process the sparks that just metaphorically and literally flew. You were pretty sure a bulb went out due to the little bits of blue energy that sparked off of your boyfriend during the kiss.

Speaking of your dork, Vox breathlessly grinned as he squeezed your arms. He let out a small laugh before stepping away from you and turning as more little sparks flew.

"Fucking finallyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!" Vox yelled as he pumped his arms in the air and kicked his legs like a giddy child.

#vox x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader

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gem-de-lune · 2 months ago

Text

Vibe Check

Eunseok

The Lovers + Knave of Pentacles + 3 of Pentacles

He is doing very well. He's relaxed. There's some insistent group level communication going on atm that may indicate preparation and collaboration of some sort. So preparing for a CB maybe? Just in early stages OR just in concept talks/being shown possible tracks, etc... this also has something acutely to do with the current situation of course, and I think there is some sort of group endeavor or effort to pull something off here. It's giving ragtag team but with good guidance.

Seunghan

The Wheel + 5 of Pentacles

He is doing Meh but is putting on a good face atm. What you will notice as we go through these individual reads is that he is not seeing something the others are- which leads me to believe that whatever this ragtag plan is, he has little to nothing to do with it and that is likely on purpose to protect him- but he may be feeling ostracized due to this bc he cannot contribute or be involved- likely for legal reasons. Since he is kind of just paying attention to how he feels left out, again- I love this 5 of Pentacles bc whatever cards you pull next to it tells the story. He is kind of a bit negative rn but failing to see that this is just the wheel turning its course- most likely into an upright position. Like he fails to see that everything is being set up for a good outcome and it is just taking time. Of course- he does know this deep down- but as we all have our emotional off days- he is just having that.

Anton

Knight of Wands + 3 of Chalices + King of Wands

So again- Anton has a similar vibe to Eunseok but just a lot more active and excited in a....young way. Like childlike. Very Aries coded. With the Knight there is clear intent towards moving forward to a goal, and this will be done in a gregarious group. Again- giving ragtag team. And AGAIN with the King popping up- they have good guidance (could be from the woman helping the. we speak abt often- whom I have mentioned Anton in particular looks up to a lot for support). Like Eunseok, he is in a good state atm. Very healthy and energetic.

SM current energy

The Chariot + The Hermit + 6 of Chalices

This is VERY interesting. Your girl gasped when this popped out. The consensus is there is a lot of internal fishing being done to cut out what has been holding them back to mobe forward. Ofc- this Chariot does not pop out when I am reading for this situation unless it is specifically regarding OT7 Riize. I think there is finally a big enough shift in the higher ups perception of the situation to warrant serious talks. I pulled the 6 of Chalices for clarification on if this meant something good about Seunghan's return to the group- which is a yes. This is a nostalgic card. In this context I would say it is looking back on the past fondly...because it showed up in a pull with the chariot and hermit- it is "thinking of returning to the past". It's a very positive omen and very powerful energy due to the 2 major arcana here.

Current Plan (Progress)

The Emperor + King of Pentacles + 6 of Pentacles

See this is interesting again. This confirms the earlier pulls for Eunseok and Anton. Right now someone at the forefront is running the show like crazy. This is the busiest they've ever been because things are beginning to produce results in the physical realm. I pulled 6 of pentacles to clarify about the producers and songwriters who were suddenly viewing and liking stories- to clarify is this was a part of the plan, which I would say that yes it kiiinda is but not specifically- it just ended up that way in a broad sense. It is like those people extending their support quietly.

SMTOWN Concert

9 of Pentacles + The Tower [Queen of Swords]

Some people were asking about what to expect during the SMTown concert. This is very "two sides of a coin" to me. We have the women facing each other in the 9 of Pentacles and the Tower. One is satisfied and the other is devastated. The one who is devastated may be louder or just more jarring and disruptive. This is indicative of our current situation within the fandom, I think. Either side will feel like a winner or loser. I pulled the Queen here to ask which side it would be- and I personally view this as the OT💩 side because the Queen of Swords is a card I have pulled for them before in my reading where I did "how Riize feels abt OT💩 vs OT7" and when the queen is in her negative state she is needlessly ruthless and unempathetic- causing a lot of harm to others through strategic plans and foul self serving intentions. So there is that. I think the event will bring a lot of divisiveness if anything at all, even if it isn't OT💩 vs OT7.

Bottom of the Deck

7 of Wands + 4 of Wands

This is kinda reiterating what we know from the reading. There is some kind of group effort for push through and persevere here. It's feeling like a reunification of sorts. The effort to show how successful it is has been very positively received by the intended audience (SM higher ups and C5) to the point where pushback is very minimal. It is more about laying the groundwork and coming up with a plan all can agree to in order to proceed without letting the same things happen yet again. One thing SM will not allow- is for the same thing to happen where they have to be embarrassed the same exact way. Their pride has been hurt too much for that to transpire again. So they will reatreat inward and thoroughly ensure to double down no matter which path they choose.

#astrology #kpop #tarot #riize is 7 #riize #riize is seven #smsupportsbullying #seunghan #anton #eunseok #bring back seunghan

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thebearer · 9 months ago

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Picture this: Carmy taking extra weeks off when Willow is born compared to when Teddy was born (I get the feeling he off for like, ten days and he was CRAWLING UP THE WALLS with the need to be back in the kitchen controlling things) to avoid that shitty dad feeling. Especially because the two of you have to look after Teddy AND new baby Willow. And he's realized you and the kids are more important than the restaurant 100% ❤️

with teddy he took a week and a half off (was supposed to be two but he ended up going back in early bc he’s a control freak). and really, it wasn’t much of a break. the first few days, yes, then he’s calling or people were calling him.

“i just gotta take this for a second.” and it would be a two hour ordeal of him trying to call, order, then call sydney or sugar or richie.

then he starts going in, just for a second. getting things from the office that he left. he was never gone long, he knew better and they’d practically kick him out of the kitchen, but he could not stay away. needed to see with his own eyes that everything was good, worried constantly that it wasn’t and it was falling down around him.

truthfully, by the time he went back, you were glad he was gone bc he was stressing you out. I don’t think he did a full dinner service until two weeks and even then, he only stayed for a little bit. just to greet who he needed to if there was a kitchen tour, or talk to critics, do a few things and he was home honestly before it was closed. very much so a control freak who wore himself so thin, thus causing the absolute break that he had in the devastation fics.

so when willow comes around, he’s much more relaxed. maybe not all the way, but he trusts that richie and sydney and everyone can run it without him. he has more trust, less need for control, and genuinely is kinda excited in a way to be away from the restaurant.

i think he’d take two weeks fully no contact (unless it was an emergency) but then after that he’d come in once a week just to do office things, just when they needed him, would bring teddy to get her out of the house and let you and willow sleep. kinda handle two things situation. it’s more of a gradual thing. he lets sydney honestly call whatever the schedule is based around her.

i mentioned in a baby making blurb (which i think I’m going to turn into a full smut fic lol) that he wanted to plan this time. didn’t want to be careless, wanted to plan the pregnancy so it wasn’t rushed like teddy’s was. and he did just that.

he made sure to plan his schedule so he wouldn’t get overworked or burnt out like last time. he really thought of ways that he could be home, be with you and the girls, but not abandon everyone at work. hired some extra chefs he trusted that he knew from noma or somewhere, just people he trusted, and found a way to makeup for the slack so there would be no more pressure.

does his office things at home (ordering, scheduling, pay roll) during willow and teddy’s nap time. usually had baby willow with him in his office bc she’s chill. he likes to see her, she’s quiet and sleeps better with company, and it lets you be able to sleep without worrying about getting up bc he’s got it. especially if he’s going to be working dinner shift that night and he knows you’ll have to be up.

if he and sydney are meeting up for menu concept brainstorming or tastings or something, he’ll bring teddy, sometimes you and willow along too. it gets you out of the house, if you want to, you get to socialize, taste food, and he can get stuff done. they both like your opinions, so it’s kinda a win.

just things he didn’t do before. before with teddy, carmen was dead set on keeping them separate. in his mind, those worlds couldn’t collide. he couldn’t bring work home bc he thought you’d be upset, and he couldn’t bring you there into the chaos with a baby, so he just overwhelmed himself and exhausted himself trying to make it work.

with willow (carm’s also been to therapy lol), he learned a balance. that they can overlap, to try and ask others instead of guessing and making assumptions, really just how to balance better.

#thebearer #bearblahs #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto x reader #the bear #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto fluff #dad!carmen berzatto #dad!carmen berzatto x mom!reader #willow natalia berzatto #dorothea “teddy” berzatto

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radioapplerevue · 4 months ago

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Radioapple Fic Recs #2

I'm finally getting around to updating my fic recs, and I decided that it would get a bit too unwieldy to just keep adding on to the original post. So, from now on I'll be putting them into different parts and then linking them in an archive post, which I will pin on my blog. For now, my first post of recs can be found here.

There are also a bunch of unfinished fics that I have been keeping an eye on that I haven't read yet because they are fairly early on and their tags say something along the lines of "it gets worse before it gets better" haha. There are enough fics grinding my heart into dust at the moment, but just know that I am seeing those chapter counts go up. I'm Watching You.

Now, onto the recs!

Home Stretch by @tarmairons (mature)

Welcome to the most convoluted game of 20 questions I've ever seen. I love the slow, purposeful approach to showing how Lucifer and Alastor's relationship is shifting and merging to not only accommodate each other, but also tie them closer together. This is an entire fic of them attempting to communicate and really, honestly trying even if neither of them are sure of what the hell they're doing. And, of course, I love when fics really take the time to explore how Alastor's asexuality (and lack of experience with intimacy in general) would affect his approach and behavior when it comes to sex with Lucifer -- and also how Lucifer learns to handle Alastor in a way that meets his needs, even if the things Alastor needs are not what Lucifer's used to.

2. To Be The Perfect Angel, Some Sin Must Be Done by @hismercytomyjustice (ratings vary by part)

This is a series I've really super been enjoying, largely because it's just fun. Don't get me wrong, the explicit parts are hot too, but it's fucking funny and there's just such an enjoyable push and pull dynamic between Alastor and Lucifer here, where each give as good as they get and actually end up... maybe.... enjoying it? Whoops? And oh shit here comes feelings, where did those come from. And as always, I enjoy seeing how Alastor's asexuality is handled here, with his discomfort with making decisions or taking the lead in bed causing them to develop a dynamic where Lucifer makes all the calls, and Alastor makes the terrifying choice to trust him with his own body, pleasure, and safety. Plus, excellent use of the shadow here. Having the shadow play a significant role in a fic is always one of my favorite things, and I am also very here for shadow fucking at all times.

3. somewhere down the line by kj_crwn (explicit)

This is one of the "Alastor and Lucifer meet in the living world first" fics. I love Lucifer basically just coming up to the living world to be the biggest nuisance to Alastor he could possibly be, but whoops, I guess Alastor's into that. There's a lot of murder, a lot of two assholes trying to drive each other nuts (and succeeding), a lot of sexual tension, and a lot of said assholes being really, really bad at feelings. I particularly enjoy what happens from the time of Alastor's death up to the conclusion of the fic, and the way they have to come to grips with what their relationship is now, what it could be, and what they want it to be.

4. T is for Tax Evasion by @radiaurapple (teen and up)

This is a brand new fic, but my goodness I loved it immediately. I loved the take on Heaven's fucked up bureaucracy, I loved Lucifer's panic, guilt and weariness, and I love how God is a fucking dick. It's such an interesting concept that is explored through Lucifer's slowly crumbling psyche as the knowledge he's going to lose Alastor becomes more and more certain. Or is it? There are few things I love more than pre-emptive grief and utter desperation, and the emotional payoff is just so good. I would have loved to have seen more of the fallout, but regardless, this is one that I'll definitely be thinking about for a while.

5. I Will Dance Divine by @rahabs (mature)

This fic caught my attention immediately. A large part of is exploring Alastor and Lucifer's relationship through dance, and the first chapter is immediately gripping. There's such an immediate magnetism to them, as well as the clash between the performance they are putting on and the quiet battle they are having with each other. It made me so look forward to seeing where it goes. So far it seems to be a slow, but very thorough burn, with the fic taking its time to really let them come together naturally, and learn about each other in tantalizing pieces. I dearly hope it is continued as I want to see more, but what there is already is also a wonderful read.

6. Muzzle for My Lover by sabbathgoat (explicit)

This is a smutty one-shot, but it has one of my favorite depictions of a sexual dynamic between Alastor and Lucifer in anything. There's such a deep undercurrent of trust here, a trust that has been hard-earned over years. Lucifer's handling of Alastor, knowledge of his fluctuating boundaries and internal battles when it comes to his own body and desires, combined with his intense love and tenderness towards him just bleeds through the entire fic. I would happily read a several chapter story with them just lying there cuddling and doing nothing else if it was written with this same weight. It's one of those cases where you don't need to be told how in love they are, because it's impossible to not feel it.

7. Stolen Moments by @mothballmilkshake (ratings vary by part)

This series is quite the rollercoaster! Alastor and Lucifer's relationship in it hits some great highs and also some serious lows, because they are both so so bad at this oh my god. I like that it's from Alastor's POV, because I feel like we don't get that very often, particularly in the longer fics. And I also like that it just shows us what an absolute fucking disaster he is, haha. The continuing plot line regarding Alastor's deal is interesting and groundwork is being laid for some serious shit to go down later on. We'll have to see if Lucifer and Alastor's foundation has been built strong enough by then to not crumble under the pressure. But hey, after all they've gone through, I believe in them (.....mostly).

8. Hope Against Hope by OrlesianHat (explicit)

I don't tend to be into non-canon AUs, but I found I enjoyed this one quite a lot. Lucifer is being sent on a blind date, and the person he meets isn't exactly what he expected... or is he? There's no murder involved so automatically the fic is much gentler than canon would be, particularly with Alastor, but a while after reading it I had to go digging to find it again because something about it stuck with me. I love Alastor's unrepentant selfishness, and Lucifer's long-suffering mood of 'these are things I really should not be okay with but apparently I'm okay with them because I'm still here'. If you're looking for something a little softer after all the angsty cliffhangers we get in other fics (the angsty cliffhanger in this one has been resolved, thank you), then this might be for you.

#radioapple #fic recs

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itchytitss · 2 months ago

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Gingerbread and Champagne🥂🎄

Jill Valentine x Reader

A short, low effort fic for today. Not super proud of this one but I thought the concept was cute so I’m posting it anyway to build my confidence. Sorry if there’s some mistakes or if shit doesn’t make sense, I’m super tired but I wanted to post this on time

Summary: During RPD’s annual Christmas party, you slip outside to get some air. Your coworker Jill follows to check up on you

CW: Fluff, mentions of alcohol, confessions, a smidge of spice, introvert reader, negative self talk

—

It’s Christmas Eve and the RPD is throwing its annual Christmas party. You didn’t really want to go this evening but you’d been told there would be free alcohol, cake and shitty karaoke.

You don’t really connect with many of the folks at work. Most of the guys are honestly kind of assholes and there aren’t many ladies in the department to talk to either. Most of them either staying home or doing nothing to include you whatsoever. So you prepare yourself for a night of people watching and drinking by yourself. Maybe you’ll get a round of karaoke in if you’re brave enough.

At least Jill is going. The other day she practically begged you to come along, promising it would be worth your time, that she’d stick with you and keep you company. You hesitantly agreed and now whenever you pass her in the halls, she won’t stop talking about how she can’t wait to see you there.

Truth be told, you probably wouldn’t have agreed to go if she wasn’t going.

“At least Jill is going to be there.” You repeat to yourself as you get dressed.

“I’ll just stay with her.” You huff as you put on some old earrings shaped like candy canes.

Maybe she’ll let you leave early. Maybe you can convince her that you’ve come down with a sudden cold. You’d much rather stay in and watch a Christmas movie by yourself. That’s what you’ve done the past few years anyway. It’s not that you want to spend Christmas alone, it’s just hard living so far away from home and spending the holidays without a partner.

It’s been an hour and a half since you’ve gotten here and all your predictions had been right. It’s too loud, nobody is talking to you and karaoke isn’t even the fun kind of bad. It’s just… bad bad.

All of the Christmas lights, music and shitty singing start to give you a headache, so you grab your coat and slip outside to the courtyard.

You walk down the steps of the building to a bench under a nearby tree. Your boots crunch on the icy bricks.

It’s so much nicer outside. The moon is peeking through the clouds as it snows slightly. It’s quiet, although you can hear the muffled chatter and music from the party inside as you wipe some snow off a bench and sit down.

You tuck your hands in your pockets and look up into the sky. Your breath fogs up the air in front of your face, your nose waters slightly in the cold and your cheeks tingle from the frosty air. You should’ve brought a thicker coat, or a scarf at least.

“Maybe I should go home.” You mumble to yourself as you kick the snow around your boot. It’s not like anyone would miss you. You doubt anyone even noticed you leave. Jill didn’t even stick with you like she said she would. She’s too busy mingling with everyone else at the party to spend time with you anyway.

Just as you start to think about heading home, you hear footsteps in the snow from behind you.

“Hey.” A familiar voice calls. “What’cha doing out here by yourself? I couldn’t find you anywhere.”

You turn around to see Jill walking towards you. She smiles, though her eyes show hints of concern.

“Oh hey,” You force a smile as you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “Just… wanted some air.”

Jill sighs as she walks up to your bench. “Not having a good time?” She asks as she sits down next to you.

“Uh, yeah. Something like that.” You look down, noticing the way her thigh presses up against your own. You can feel the warmth of her body deep through your clothes and into your very soul. You find yourself wanting to lean into her warmth, to savour the feeling as if she were to disappear at any moment.

“Why are you out here?” You turn to her, finding her already looking into your eyes.

“Couldn’t find you.” She shrugs.

Jill is silent for a minute as she looks up to the snow falling from the sky. “You’re kinda the only reason I came tonight anyway.”

That takes you off guard. “Really?” You scoff. “And not to mingle with all your friends in there?” You laugh, waving your hand to the building behind you.

“Nope.” She says, popping the p and looking back at the station. “Chris is just arm wrestling everyone like he does every year and I’d rather hang out with you anyway.”

“Why? I’m not that special.” You laugh awkwardly. “No one even noticed me leave.” You look down to your lap, embarrassed for yourself.

“Well, I did.” Jill nudges you with her elbow. You feel your face heat up as you look to her. Her relaxed eyes and lazy smirk cause your heart to skip a beat. You can’t help but turn away to shield your flustered expression.

You sit in silence together for a few minutes, simply existing in each other’s presence.

“Oh hey, I got you something!” Jill finally pipes up, breaking the silence. She rummages through her coat pockets and pulls out a small jewellery box.

“Oh, Jill. No, you didn’t have to-“

“Shh. Just take it.” She forces it into your hands. “You do so much for me and everyone at the station, I thought you deserved it.” She smiles, waiting for you to open it.

You stare at her in disbelief. Jill blinks at you slowly, with calm, half lidded eyes. God, she looks so beautiful right now. You huff a laugh and look down to open the box.

Inside is a beautiful necklace with a delicate chain and a small pendant that holds a little gem. It glistens under the moonlight as you pick it up and turn it, inspecting it.

“Oh, Jill, this is gorgeous. That’s my birth stone.” You giggle, pointing at the little gem.

“Is it? I had no idea.” Jill lies.

You stare at it for a minute, becoming lost in the way it shines. Such a small thing, but oh so beautiful.

“Here, let me put it on you.” Jill says softly, gently taking the necklace from your hands.

You watch as she leans in, hooking the small chain around your neck with great care as her warm hands brush against your skin. You suppress a shiver at the sensation, exhaling and forming a cloud with your breath.

You look down to see Jill’s hands hovering over your chest.

“There.”

You look up to see her staring into your eyes. She’s so close as she’s not yet pulled away from you. Your eyes flicker back and forth between hers, watching the way the moonlight reflects off her irises.

You can see the way she scans your face, her eyes lingering on your lips for just a second too long.

“You look so beautiful.” She breathes, not even sparing a glance at the necklace.

You blink, huffing out a small breathy laugh as her warm hand snakes up to your face, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“God, you don’t even know what you do to me.” She murmurs, cupping your cheek.

“Jill…”

“Fuck, can I…” She breathes, unable to finish her words as her thumb strokes your lips. You can see the anxiety and anticipation on her face.

“Please.” The word leave your lips in an eager whisper.

Jill scans your face for a second longer, searching for any signs of uncertainty. When she finds none, she closes her eyes and presses her lips against your own.

Your eyes flutter closes as your body melts into the kiss. Your right hand cups her cheek while your left rests on her shoulder.

Jill giggles into your mouth, you can feel her smile against your lips.

“W-what?” You panic. Fuck, did you do something wrong?

“Nothing! It’s just, you taste like gingerbread.” She laughs, her nose scrunched up as she smiles.

“You taste like champagne.” You murmur, kissing back into her mouth as your body curls into hers.

She’s so soft. She kisses you slowly, gently as her hand snakes its way into the opening of your coat and holds your waist.

A soft moan involuntarily leaves your lips when she pulls you closer. The kiss quickly deepens as Jill’s tongue swipes and parts your lips, licking into your mouth. She swallows your whines as her hand slowly travels up, resting just below your breast. She pulls back, panting softly for air.

“You- you said you wanted to go home right?”

“Yeah?” You breathe out, staring into her eyes as she rests her forehead on yours.

“Let’s go back to mine.” She places small, quick kisses down your cheek and neck. “You’ll have my full attention.” She rubs her nose against your jaw, letting her hot breath fan over your racing pulse point.

“I’d really, really like that.” You giggle.

Jill laughs breathlessly as she pulls you into another kiss. You feel her smile against your lips, you can’t help but laugh back as you just feel her toothy grin.

——

(Happy holidays everyone! I’m sorry if I got details about the snow wrong. It’s Christmas Day in Australia and it’s fucking HOT. I’m sitting in bed under a fan on full blast wishing I could be in the snow rn. Again, not super proud of this one so sorry it’s a bit mid, but I wanted to post something for Christmas so this is what you get)

#jill valentine #jill valentine x reader #jill resident evil #resident evil #resident evil x reader #resident evil imagines #resident evil fanfiction #resident evil headcanons #wlw #wlw blog #wlw fluff #wlw fanfic #lesbian #sapphic

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oh-no-its-bird · 1 month ago

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Mayhaps I want to ask about "genderfuck"

From this ask meme

Oh this is a fun one actually, like, in my heart. It's also an Ichigo one, full disclaimer, so

SUMMARY // Hatake Ichigo and the trials and tribulations of being a shinobi girl hitting puberty, who just so happened to have been born a boy. --- "Maybe I should just castrate myself." Ichigo sniffled. "Ichigo," Her mother sighed, still patient. "You are not allowed to try and castrate yourself till at least 20." "But it'll be too late by then!" She wailed.

I think I might have already posted this one snippet of it bc I remember thinking it was funny, but oh well Ill just post it anyways if that is the case.

But like, eunuch Hikaku mention:

"I bet Hikaku-sama would know how to castrate someone." Ichigo mumbled, kicking at the floor dejectedly, and her mother paused. "Why in the world would Uchiha Hikaku know how to safely castrate someone?" Ichigo stared at her mother blankly, who stared back with an equally confused expression. "Um, cuz he's a eunuch, right?" "Excuse me?" Ichigo frowned. "He had to chop of his own thing, for some mission in the Daimyo's court or something, right? Before he became clan heir?" "Where did you hear that?" "The twins told me!" Ichigo scowled, oddly miffed by her mother's doubt. "And you believed them?" Ichigo planted her fists on her hips. "Well when I asked Kagami, he believed it too! And every time after that when I mentioned it to people, no one argued!" "Hatake Ichigo," her mother began, setting down her knife with a soft clack onto the cutting board. Ichigo froze at her mothers dangerously level tone. "Have you been going around telling people that the Uchiha clan heir is a eunuch." "Um." Was all she could manage, finally realizing she may have messed up. Just a bit.

Anyways I thought it'd be fun to tackle being trans specifically set in early konoha, and all take a fun little peek at all the world building aspects I could possibly dig into with it!

I have an older post still buried in my drafts about my takes on how it's interesting to think ab how Konoha developing as a village might have impacted the trans experience of its shinobi and civillians— specifically from the standpoint of paperwork.

Thinking something along the lines of, earlier konoha had more unregistered home births and messy paperwork that also made it very easy to go in and change details of by simply going to an office and saying "Hey btw my mom filled out this form wrong when I was born. I'm a girl just so u know." And you'll just kinda get a shrug and a "oh ok cool, I'll change that then"

Vs more modern Konoha where you might get some more complicated loops to jump through and extra paperwork stating specifically that you are trans and would like to Officially Request (tm) a change in the presenting gender listed on your file and also would you like to sign up for our hormone therapy or any gender affirming surgery?

Just like. Thinking ab the little things and progression and changes through time (none specifically good or bad) at how things are done depending on the state of the village. Fun to think about

Sorry anyways:

For this oneshot, if I ever continue it, I also would have fun in playing with how different clans and groups see gender.

Like, Ichigo goes to the Orochi who are rather infamously gender apathetic and kinda just do their own thing as part of their clan culture.

The Shiranui make a cameo with their concepts of how gender can be used as a weapon and presenting yourself certain ways is just another tool in the box to play with for a shinobi

The Inuzuka come in w their matriarchal clan to talk ab the concept of womanhood or smthn quirky like that, I'm not too sure yet but I think it'd be neat if they were there

Just. Having fun exploring the ways different clans and their cultures view and interact with gender. Some clans are welcome to the concept of trans people, some clans legit just don't care, some clans have trans ideas built into their identity, others might think it a bit strange but ultimately not their buisness, etc.

Then also the differences between how shinobi clans treat gender and transness vs how civilians treat it (w the shinobi caring a whole lot less ab it all. Probably bc they have other things to worry about)

Early Konoha is already so ripe w potential as a melting pot of cultures meeting for the first time ever ,,, I wanna play with it.

I will say tho going into it and still now, I kinda just plan on steering clear of transphobia— if it were to appear it'd be in flashes and get a "damn, that's crazy. Anyways." Reaction from Ichigo as she goes back to asking Tobirama if he has a cure for her growing a beard

I like playing things as straight as possible and really leaning hard into "ok but what are ALL the reactions I can get out of this and how do I play with them" but I kinda just. Don't wanna write that. This'd be a fun, silly comedy about a ninja girl learning ab shinobi clan history and gender culture and I will indulge myself on that

ANYWAYS ! thank u for playing the ask game w me Domoz, sorry I dive bombed u w Ichigo for ur reply rip

#birds fic talk #wolves of the woods #naruto #hatake oc #hatake ichigo #early konoha #orochi clan #shiranui clan #uchiha hikaku #hikaku uchiha #ask game #naruto oc

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atxxzist · 4 months ago

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to hell with you | c.s (prologue)

series m.list

pairing: choi san x f!reader

word count: 4k

warning: y/n being a serial liar, manipulator & gaslighter. not 4 the faint hearted. somewhat suggestive

a/n: i already told y'all she's gonna b awful

you've had your fair share of disappointments in life--most of them from your parents, other family members who claim to care for your well-being, and some even from wooyoung.

there's only one person who you can ever really count on to not let you down.

"san," he introduced himself, just fourteen years old at the time and still oblivious to what he was getting himself into.

you admit that though you might not excel academically, never caring to go above and beyond and most of the times just barely passing your classes, you have a talent for reading people.

able to tell whether someone is worth your time from just being with them briefly, and choi san was definitely someone worth all the initial fake smiles and enthusiasm because not only did he keep you company because no one else wanted to, san was also quite gifted in the academic department.

as if cursed the day he was seated next to you, you figured out quickly how much of a star student he was, holding a prowess in almost any subjects that would've made your parents proud if he was their kid--and a fact you selfishly used to your advantage.

if it wasn't something coming up that was preventing you from doing your work, it was that you didn't understand the assignment and it'd just be easier if he did both his and your part.

and if it wasn't that, then you were mostly just copying off of him--another thing he made extremely easy because you also picked up quite early on that san likes you.

unfortunately growing up, you were never been one for romance, trashing the concept and rejecting every boys that has ever asked you out, your cousin was convinced at one point you were asexual.

even san, you didn't feel much different toward besides the very obvious facts he made school much easier for you, and that you had someone else to talk to aside from wooyoung.

still, you stuck with him all through high school and even learned to appreciate some parts of him even if they didn't necessarily benefit you in any ways, given the bigger picture was that he was more useful than useless.

san is the only person who has never said no to you regardless of anything, even if he has a hard time with it in general; you having seen first-hand the few times he'd let someone step all over him or be too afraid to ask for money back that was rightfully owed to him.

you had been the voice of reasons for most of those instances, stepping up in his place when he was too timid to do it himself, offended at the mere thought that someone else believed they could just take advantage of san's kindness.

it's incredibly ironic, you understand, because it isn't someone not paying him back or asking to copy a quick problem that's gonna hurt him in the long run.

it's his 'best friend' knowingly and fully aware of the kind of person he is; that maybe sometimes he doesn't say no not because he's afraid, but because he genuinely wants to do it... whether out of goodness or whatever other reasons he has--and exploiting this quality of him.

because you knew he couldn't say no, especially not to you.

not the first time when you lied about being sick so he would do your homework just because you didn't feel like it, and not the most recent when you lied about being away for some 'family business' when you really just flew out to jeju with your cousin for an entire week of vacation, leaving the bulk of your university assignments for san to figure out.

and the worst thing you've ever done according wooyoung, knowing san definitely wasn't gonna say no--asking him to have sex with you.

even if he wanted to, and even if it was consensual, wooyoung having grown a soft spot for the poor boy you've been stringing along--thought it was a horrible idea. he still does.

told you it could get messy quickly, adding something as intimate as sex into an already complicated enough situation when you planned on the relationship staying the same even after.

but you assured him as you always do, saying everything is gonna be okay because san seemed fine with it, and so were you. didn't stop him from saying the same thing he does every time.

"you're sure he's fine with it, or did you just assumed that?"

a remark that always made you roll your eyes, because you didn't doubt a bit that san was more than fine. he likes you, why wouldn't he wanna sleep with you? plus, the idea came up in the first place because it was a known fact between the two of you that you were both virgins.

"i'm failing to see what's the problem?" you shrug nonchalantly, having confessed the deed just the day after it was done and thinking wooyoung would understand, though you should've seen it coming at this point.

"i mean, isn't it better to lose your virginity to someone you trust?" you add, only to the look of disappointment on your cousin's face; the same one he's given you one too many times by now.

(also the same one he gave you after you fessed up about having lied regarding having no classes so you could take the jeju trip with him)

he shakes his head and let out a short breath.

"i'm not here to judge anyone's sex lives because there's a reason one night stands and friends with benefits are a thing, but it's a horrible idea because of the history between you and san. the feelings you know he has for you... you're kind of taking advantage of that."

but in classic you style, you usually don't wanna listen to wooyoung unless he's agreeing with you; letting out an annoyed sigh and making sure he hears it before crossing your arms.

"whatever," you mumble, though wooyoung hears it--not that you care. he's family, so whether you pisses him off or not doesn't really matter all that much.

he says something under his breath that you pretend to pay no attention to.

"you're literally a sociopath."

so maybe san's friends doesn't like you for a reason--not that you really care about that, too. after all, they're not the ones who's known you for years or getting asked for favors--most of which san does so contently, sometimes even offering it himself.

or maybe they don't like that you're always taking him from them, always catching the pure annoyance and eye rolls when you make the slightest appearance at their library table, knowing damn well the only reason why you're even here at all.

you can appreciate yeosang for keeping his composure and acting like he can stand you, even if you probably irritate him just as much as the other two who usually isn't as friendly and will let you know.

"guess who," you say in your sweet voice the same time you cover san's eyes with your hands from behind, nails perfectly painted and all, ignoring the side eye mingi gave you just a few seconds ago when he caught you heading this way.

"hey," san says, a small giggle accompanying his response, prying your hands from his vision gently and turning to meet the pretty smile on your lips.

"whatchu doing?" you ask, peeking over his shoulder that lifts your heels off the floor and makes your short skirt rise just a little, the fabric barely safe enough to cover parts of you that shouldn't be seen, especially in public, to see that he's currently reading through a textbook.

"just finishing up a chapter," he answers, much to the smirk on your lips that's about to say something, when mingi beats you to it.

"just cut to it. no need to act like you actually care about what we're doing, especially anything concerning school works," the boy says harshly, accustomed to your little routine and just how things work in your world, pretending to care about san and anything that doesn't involve you before it will eventually become all about you.

san opens his mouth to defend you, but you cut him off, also well-accustomed to dealing with people like mingi and yunho.

"of course i care. i mean, who wouldn't want to hear all about..." you pause to read the title of the closed textbook sitting in front of mingi, "the principles of physics," you say sarcastically with a high-pitched voice you know will tick his gears.

mingi's grip clenches, and this time, it's san that cuts him off before things can escalate any further (and they will).

he closes the book he was reading and grabs at his backpack quickly the same time he jumps onto mingi's words mid-sentence.

"okay! well we should probably get going," he says, looking down at you with a tiny smile that you return.

immediately, you latch your arm around his and wave to the group of very irritated boys; san barely managing to say a proper goodbye before you drag him away.

"sorry about that," san says once you're both out the library, his face as apologetic as they come.

"it's fine. you know i don't care," you reply, as if getting snide remarks and insults hurled at you is just something as casual and expected as having to eat or drink water everyday, though san tries his best to separate you from his friends because it's too many times that someone ends up with their feelings hurt; 9/10 times that someone either being yunho or mingi.

san nods it off, something seemingly on his mind.

"i-i didn't know you'd show. if i did, i would've suggested we meet out here, or in the dorms."

"i texted you in the morning. you didn't answer," you tell him, stating the obvious but his reaction is as if this is news.

"right. i apologize. i was going to, but i forgot."

you can't help but to crank an eyebrow at the strangeness of it all, but you don't get to linger on the thoughts because san's quick to break it.

"did you have something you wanted to tell me?" he asks.

"i was gonna ask if you'd be free to help me study this friday." as if you already don't know his answer. as if you care whether or not he has something else going on beside to clear all of his schedules at your beck and call.

but expect the unexpected, because san surprises you. he doesn't instantly nod his head or says yes the way you know him to.

instead, he asks in an unsure, almost disappointed voice, "this friday?"

"yeah. right now we're going through some really boring chapters in fashion class. something about the history of it and textiles fundamentals," you tell him, sounding as disheartened as you can, which is usually code for 'i need you to do the work for me basically'.

it takes him longer than needed to finally respond, as if his mind preoccupied and hesitating--a sight you don't think you've ever seen of san before.

"i might have something that friday, so i'll think about it."

and for the first time in your life ever since you've known him, choi san gives you a 'maybe'. gasp. the audacity.

you immediately cross your arms, looking him up and down as if interrogating, saying it playfully and mischieviously but definitely meaning the words coming out of your mouth, "you have something better that friday or what?"

san cooly plays it off and starts walking away the same time he answers, "i said i'll think about it." causing you to skip frantically behind him to catch up before stopping in front of him, the sudden appearance almost causing the two of you to bump into each other.

a stare-off and a couple seconds of silence ensues before you blurt out, "i'll fuck you if you come this friday."

he laughs, the dimples you hate to admit you love, shows itself along with the shake of his head.

"you'd fuck me either way," he says, to a teasing smile on your lips.

"maybe," you mutter, jumping to his side that second to wrap your arm around his again, this time leaning your head on his shoulder to look up at him through your perfectly curled lashes.

"please?" you say in the sweetest voice possible, a pout accompanying your lips to be even more convincing.

but again, he only chuckles it off, mumbling, "we'll see." leaving a permanent frown on your face the rest of the day, because no matter how much you pester him, he isn't moved the slightest.

you can't believe it.

san was a lot more compliant in high school, like he didn't live for anything else but to carry out orders from you. of course, it made sense because you were his only 'friend'.

then came college, the journey that had began a year ago, and within just the first few months, he was telling you about guys he met in his classes who seemed like they actually wanted to be his friends.

guys who shared all the same nerdy interests as him; nose either always in books or video games tournaments you don't really care too much for, though you tried showing some enthusiam whenever san talked about it.

the same guys who sits in the library with him everyday at 12 in the afternoon, probably whispering things into his ears about you and why he should hate your guts, too.

it's no doubt that could be why he's been acting so weird lately.

not texting you as much the past few days, and even completely scrapping the usual schedule you guys had after classes for an entire week now, telling you he and his friends are prepping for a gaming club of some sort.

and you can deal with a little change of behaviors; even some hesitation as long as he comes back around, but you absolutely cannot deal with san straight up telling you no.

"i can't," he says over the phone, his voice stern but still holding back some fear, afraid of your reaction.

"what!" you yell in disbelief. "san, you cannot be fucking kidding me."

this isn't happening.

"i'm sorry. i-i--"

"you what?" you cut him off, the pink in your room now turning red in your vision. "what other better things do you have to do?"

"i'll make up to you, i promise," he tries to reasoning, tone apologetic, but you're still not having it.

"you know what? whatever. forget about it." then you hang up. just like that. just like whenever things doesn't go your way.

what are you supposed to do now? study for your own classes and do your own assignments? unbelievable.

"yeah that's kind of crazy. having to do the work yourself? damn." wooyoung's sarcastic response fills the speaker of your phone, prompting you to roll your eyes.

"shut the fuck up, woo."

you let out a groan and slam the textbook shut, rolling your back onto the bed to stare up at the chandelier.

"i can't do this any second longer. it's pure fucking torture," you complain.

"it's only been five minutes, y/n," your cousin states the obvious.

"i know, and i hate it. why the hell do we need to learn about this shit when i already know all there is to know about fashion?"

"well if you supposedly already know everything, then shouldn't this be a breeze for you?"

"logically. but it's not. all these questions are too fucking specific."

since san isn't gonna be coming in tomorrow, you figure you needed to start ahead of time just so you'll have enough room to moan and groan, having to actually do the work yourself now.

"so what would keep him so busy on such a friday?" wooyoung asks after a necessary moment of peace and quiet in order for you to finish a paragraph.

"he wouldn't tell me, but it was probably something to do with his friends. they don't like me."

since you can't possibly think of any other bigger importance than you on san's list.

"anywho, either later tonight or tomorrow morning, he will most likely reach out again," you add, because that's how it works. that's how it has always worked.

you getting upset or ticked off when your plans fall in shambles, and san always apologizing even if he beared no faults.

but san is just full of surprises this week, because you wake up expecting his name on the screen of your phone given he didn't get back to you last night, but all there is are meaningless notifications from the few apps you have.

you could reach out first but why would you? that would ruin your entire brand.

so you strut to classes and think about the actual crazy possibility that san isn't gonna apologize; that he's actually ignoring you--all of which is hard to wrap your head around currently.

it's only 10 in the morning and it's already the longest you and san has gone without communicating.

you keep yourself busy between classes thinking back to wooyoung's offer last night and reconsidering it.

"now that he pretty much blew you off, why don't you come with me tomorrow? finish what you can tonight. you still have another week anyway. besides, it's better than rotting in your room alone on a friday."

but you had told him with the surest confidence that san was gonna call or text, and you two would've already made up by the time the party starts, so you were not gonna be able to make it.

you can't stand parties in general; the smell, the people, the noise, and just everything about having a bunch of teens and barely young adults in one place is incredibly tacky.

the first one you went out of curiosity, and the second one was because wooyoung, your cousin who's the life of the party, of course, dragged you to it.

he had wanted you to get to know some of his university friends, only for them to unfortunately not even make the event because something came up.

he said they're showing for sure this time.

you tell wooyoung if san doesn't get back to you by 3, you'll go; and you're currently getting dressed to head out with him because san doesn't fucking get back to you at all.

"fuck him," you curse as you plop down in the passenger seat, the offhanded comment causing a burst of laughter from wooyoung. "no, seriously, what the fuck could he be doing?"

san's pretty much ghosting you. your jaw is on the floor.

"okay but is it really ghosting if you haven't even tried reaching out at all?" wooyoung quips, raising an eyebrow at you, already able to see the disbelief currently painting your expression just from his peripheral vision.

"you're not making me feel any better, woo," you whine, crossing your arms and frowning like a child as you stare at the road ahead.

"i'm just trying to be rational here."

"sure, because it sounds like you're always taking his side."

"i'm not picking sides, and even if i am, i'll always try my best to stand behind who's family."

you scoff and roll your eyes, muttering, "sure."

a short silence fly by before wooyoung speaks again, "but if you really wanna feel better, you made the right choice in coming tonight."

but actually being there just makes you do a double take if this was indeed the right choice, because you currently feel suffocated being dragged through the crowd once again by your cousin as he tries to find an open space.

"think somebody tried to touch my ass," you tell him with disgust, patting your wrinkled skirt.

he opens his mouth to respond, but his attention's quickly taken away by someone else; the young man who just came out of nowhere goes to hug your cousin and the two engages in some bro handshake while you just stare, looking as out of place as one can be.

the stranger doesn't seem to notice you until wooyoung switches his gaze back and actually introduces you.

"right. this is my cousin i've been telling you guys all about," he says, nodding your direction that prompts the man to turn to you with an immediate smile.

"ah," the man churns. "y/n, right? i've heard you got quite the personality."

he holds out a hand and you return the gesture politely. if you actually gave a shit about guys, you'd say this man is actually quite pleasant to the eyes.

"oh, i'm curious about just what kind of things wooyoung's saying behind my back," you reply, a faint smirk already on your lips as you meet wooyoung's gaze behind this man.

"nothing but good things, of course," he cries dramatically, rolling his eyes simultaneously; the sight erupting a chuckle from the man whose name you still don't know.

"seonghwa," he finally says, the answer pulling your eyes back to his.

"seonghwa," you repeat to yourself with a tiny smile. "nice to meet you."

then comes hongjoong after; someone whose entrance is a lot bigger in comparison to seonghwa, something about the way he presents himself earning some respect from you--and you can't say that about many people.

seonghwa's a close second, but you probably like hongjoong the best out of wooyoung's friends.

but it's not even a competition regarding who you like least, because you know it the second you're left alone with him when everyone but you and him decides to sit out a drinking game (huge mistake).

"who do you think is gonna win?"

"that was so stupid, if i was playing, i would never do that."

"oh, i really like this song."

"people likes to tell me i got a talent for singing but i don't really know."

you appreciate him for trying to break the ice, but right now, you'd rather watch paint dry.

"look, i really don't care," you spit out, the first words you've spoken ever since the rest left you guys to be.

and you almost expect him to be offended, but you shouldn't have been surprised when he just gawks at you, seemingly unfazed. judging from his obnoxious personality, it only makes sense he has a higher than usual tolerance for someone like you.

"wow," he says casually. "wooyoung's right. you are mean."

you fake a smile and turn your attention back to the ensuing chaos happening in front, voice barely above a whisper but loud enough for jongho to hear, "perfect. i'm glad i got my point across."

"he also said it's best we don't get too close to you even if you're his cousin. but that's okay, i think you're totally hot."

the comment makes you snap your neck to him, a scoff escaping your lips and incredulity crossing your face because you can see his gaze lowering to the end of your skirt.

"seriously, fuck off before i hurt your feelings," you curse at him, rolling your eyes one last time and brushing past his shoulder harshly to get elsewhere, but the boy chases behind you much to your annoyance.

"please! i'm sorry! i didn't mean to!" you can hear him through the shouting music, but you're just dead set on losing him at this point, going everywhere and anywhere; the thoughts of san completely forgotten at the appearance of another problem, when the sudden pierce of a laughter reminds you of it all over again.

one so familiar and close as if you've been hearing it for years, swiftly turning your head to the source, and there he is. choi mother fucking san.

all the reasons and explanations for why he has been acting so strange, and why he blew you off this very night. all so he could come to this party with the very same bitch he told you he didn't care for.

now suddenly sitting across from her and fondly looking at her; a sight that makes your stomach queasy, you don't even care jongho has caught up to you as he bumps right into your back.

in the span of just a few days, san, for the very first time, tells you no and lets you down.

-`♡´-

a/n: i literally cannot use a divider or the post won't show up in the tags 🤡 but there it is, folks. the start of another mess. i'm a liar & for anyone waiting on sweetest lies, i swear i tried so hard to write the final chapter, it literally put me in a writing slump bc i was just not making any progress at all. i just needed to write something and writing this has got me out of the slump temporarily, so for you sweetest lies readers, pls wait just a little more 🙏

taglist: @sorryimananti-romantic @cherrychristie @santineez @barbielibra

#wooyoung is always at every crime scenes #ateez angst #ateez x reader #ateez series #san x reader #choi san x reader #san smut #san angst #ateez imagines #san imagines #fic: thwy

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