#just saying that they could have been worse

[yinyuedijun]

SITUATIONSHIP | asakura shin x f!reader

You are both the most diligent worker at Sakamoto's Store and the most hypersexual person that Shin knows. Overhearing your thoughts and accidentally seeing your fantasies routinely leads to profound psychic damage for him, as well as the most poorly timed boners in the world. All of this only gets worse when the two of you start hooking up.

6k words. comedy, smut. all the sex scenes are vanilla; however, the reader constantly reads and thinks about horny fanfiction tropes including: free use, omegaverse, and breeding. these are all mentioned but not discussed in detail. warning: the reader has a warped/unhealthy relationship with her sexuality, this fic is about shin fixing her with his stroke game lol. credits to @/cafekitsune for the dividers and @hansolen for the fic brainrot <3

You are the worst coworker that Shin has ever had.

This is saying a lot, given that he's worked with countless two-bit assassins who could barely a handle a gun (no one he worked with in his late teenage years could hold a candle to Mr. Sakamoto, truly), as well as Lu, who can barely orient herself within the store. You are, in contrast, brutally efficient with your work, incredible with the customers, and very cooperative with Shin. You even know how to handle a gun, and you do it with such pinpoint precision that it's always nonlethal despite being brutally debilitating. (Your skill level does hold a candle to Mr. Sakamoto in this respect, and Shin wonders if his boss has given you some kind of private training—a thought that fills him with such jealousy that it makes him want to chew on the sale stickers in his hands.) There's just one problem.

You are probably the horniest person alive, and Shin is about to lose his fucking mind listening to your thoughts.

Now, Shin is used to hearing the unfiltered stream of consciousness of the average human being. This naturally includes carnal desires here and there. He’s desensitized to most people’s erotic fantasies about their favourite gravure idol, memories of their last sexual encounter, intrusive thoughts about their friends, et cetera. He habitually tunes it out. But whereas a regular person might have these thoughts once or twice a day, you seem to have them once or twice an hour. And none of your thoughts are ever brief or underdeveloped. They usually last at least ten minutes each, with detailed internal monologuing and accompanying 8K UltraHD visuals, and you really only ever stop when you're trying to remember a code at the till or doing some quick mental math with the accounts.

Needless to say, Shin tries to keep you at the register as much as possible.

You used to tell yourself (in your head) that your mental fixation on sex was a natural consequence of your dry spell. After quitting the assassin life, you'd been celibate for the first time in at least a decade, forced to attain sexual gratification with nothing but masterfully written fanfiction and your vast collection of vibrators. (Your favourite one is hot pink, seven inches, rabbit eared. You sometimes have trouble getting it to fit, but it’s worth it for the way you cum when you do, and this knowledge makes Shin want to die.) You were convinced that getting laid would bring you enough relief to stop thinking about sex every hour of the day. You had thought that you'd go back to “normal” after that, though Shin doesn't know what “normal” entails for you. (One free-use fantasy a day instead of twelve? Daydreams strictly featuring humans rather than tentacle monsters? It's hard to say.)

Regardless, Shin had to agree: surely, there would be a limit to your sex-obsessed thoughts. It made a lot of sense that you were simply frustrated and in need of an outlet. Naturally, after sleeping with you, he'd expected your thoughts to quiet down.

(Yes—Shin slept with you. It was an accident, through and through, and he routinely feels bad about it. He'd been meaning to ask you out, treat you to dinner, maybe even get you flowers depending on the vibe. The type of thing that Mr. Sakamoto did for Aoi, when they first started dating. If everything went well, then you two could consider getting intimate. His interest in you has nothing to do with sex, after all—no, not even the fact that you've had explicit fantasies about deepthroating him while he works the cash. He'd die if you ever tried that, actually.

The plan was always to take things slow and maybe even start a relationship if the two of you really hit it off. He'd even asked Mr. Sakamoto for advice on what a civilian romance should look like! But then Shin walked you back to your apartment one night when you were feeling down, and you invited him upstairs, and one thing led to another, and, well… it turns out that you aren't the type of person to take things slow. Or think about relationships. Shin’s never overheard any thoughts from you about actually dating him, come to think of it. And no, before you ask—that doesn't bother him. Not at all. Not one bit.)

To both his surprise and yours, getting laid somehow had the opposite effect on you. Rather than being calmed, you're somehow even hornier—and now all your horny thoughts are about Shin.

It's nonstop. Shin can't believe it. Whereas you used to think about all sorts of people in your sexual fantasies (mostly your fanfiction men, but also some BL characters, occasionally Keanu Reeves, and very often that Nagumo guy), you now think solely of Shin. You're thinking about him right now, pausing as you finish restocking the onigiri.

Shin can hear every single thought from across the room, the way you feel the edges of your sanity fraying with the memory of his touch. The whole day, you've been remembering how it felt to have your pussy stretched around his cock, how it felt to have his hands on your curves, how he seemed to know exactly how to touch your body to make you keen. (Shin admits he cheated; a little ESP goes a long way in bed.) You soaked the sheets when you finally came, and he kissed you relentlessly through your orgasm. It made you so horny that you had to immediately go another round.

No other man’s ever made you cum like that, you keep thinking. You've fucked more people than you can count, but not a single person has ever felt so good inside you. The realisation is driving you crazy, and Shin feels like he's about to go crazy with you. In the absence of a cold shower, he wants to shove himself into the freezer right now. There's no other way to get rid of his raging boner.

How did it feel so fucking good?! you keep thinking, oblivious to his struggles. I need his cock inside me again. I need him to hit it raw this time. I need him to bend me over the counter and cum in my pussy right now—

It makes him want to die, listening to your thoughts. It also confuses him, somewhat: he isn't that experienced, and objectively he’s a little clumsy in bed. His performance is probably mid in the grand scheme of things, which makes him wonder why you feel like his dick is heaven-sent.

But more than anything, Shin wonders if you ever think about anything other than his dick. Sex isn't the only thing the two of you have done together. The first time you hooked up, he'd spent the night at your place. You clung to him in his sleep and you drooled on his chest and he thought it was kinda funny. He was careful not to wake you as he wiped your chin. You’d cooked him breakfast by the time he'd woken up: homemade miso, fresh rice, tamagoyaki. He made you burnt coffee after. You gave him a goodbye kiss, which somehow turned into a goodbye blowjob, which then escalated into wasting the day together in bed. You were really cuddly the whole time, and Shin could hear you think, how weird, I hate it when people hold me, and I hate it when people kiss me, but you liked it from Shin. You liked it so much that your pussy started dripping, and then what else could you do but suck him off again? (He returned the favour, of course.)

There was a lot more than just fucking, but you never think about any of that other stuff. You only ever think about his stroke game.

Not that that bothers Shin. Not at all. Not one bit.

By noon, he reaches his limit.

Shin considers himself a responsible guy and dedicated employee. He'd ordinarily never want to take off in the middle of the day to fool around with you—or anyone else—but it's his lunch break, and he has to get you to stop fantasizing. His dick is so hard that it's painful, and even with the apron it's getting tricky to cover up. As soon as the clock hits 12, he's throwing it off and making a beeline for you.

“We need to talk,” he says, grabbing you by the hand, and the face you make is so giddy that he can't help but sigh. You’re practically beaming as you take off your apron and say bye to Lu. We’ll be back in 30! you tell her in a sing-song voice, because you’re a very conscientious worker even when outrageously horny.

“You heard my thoughts?” you ask as the two of you climb the stairs to his room, and he snorts.

“How couldn't I?” He gives you a miserable look, cheeks flushing. “Were you doing that on purpose the whole morning?”

“No.” He raises a brow. “I'm serious—I wasn't trying to cause any trouble for you! It's just…” You bite your lip, and it takes all of Shin’s self-control to stop himself from staring at its glossy sheen. “I really just need to be touched again.”

“I don't believe you,” he says as he pulls you into his room.

“You're an esper! You should know I'm telling the truth!”

“I also know you like to torture me with your thoughts.”

“Well, yeah…” You smile at him, sheepish. “But I really just need a bit of relief. Want me to prove it to you?”

There's a sudden glint in your eye that makes Shin nervous, out of his depth. Sometimes he gets the feeling that you want to eat him alive, and he never knows how to handle it. He’s never gotten this level of attention before, and never in his wildest dreams did he think he'd get it from someone like you.

(Yeah—you're way out of Shin's league. For all his plans of a civilian romance, he wasn’t sure if he could actually score a date with you. He still isn't sure if he can score one. He's also not sure he’ll survive this encounter.)

He swallows. “Prove it…?”

“Uh huh.” You look so pretty right now, sitting on the edge of his bed. “Let me show you.”

You read too much hentai. Shin knows this firsthand (you read a lot of it on the clock, and all the images get blasted right into his prefrontal cortex), but he can also tell from how you act. It’s just way too fucking outrageous when you spread your legs for him, pulling up your skirt, and he's greeted not by the sight of your panties (you wore a lacy pair to work and kept bending over in hopes of flashing him—you had not been shy at all in this thought), but your bare, glistening cunt.

No fucking way.

“You’ve been working like that?!” he blurts out, mildly horrified even though his dick is jumping at the sight of you. You laugh, and you conjure up your panties from somewhere. They dangle from your fingertips, sheer and drenched.

“Took them off as we came up here. They're useless now anyway, see”—they’ve been soaked through for hours, and my thighs are all sticky—“and besides… I wanted to give you easy access.”

He thinks he's going to pass out.

“Easy access,” he repeats stiffly, bright red.

“Uh huh. Wanted to be efficient—we only have, what, twenty minutes?” Before he can even react, you're already turning around, bending over for him, ass up. From this angle, he can see just how wet you are—and how you're clenching around nothing, your cunt empty and needing to be filled. You glance over your shoulder, give him a teasing smile. “What are you waiting for?”

It’s a wonder that Shin doesn't cum on the spot, really. Like he said—he isn't an experienced guy. He's never slept with anyone so forward, or so—well. Smoking hot, for lack of better word. Half of him has a mind to just stand there and say that he can't believe you, and half of him has a mind to fuck you like you've been hoping all morning. Thankfully, this latter half of him wins out—probably for the better. If he helps you work this out of your system, you'll probably stop assaulting his mind with all your horny thoughts and his dick can exist in peace for the rest of the afternoon. Right?

Right?

(He ends up being extremely wrong.)

By the time he's pulled down his pants, put a condom on, and started pushing inside you, the two of you have seventeen minutes left. He worries briefly that it won't be enough time to get you to cum (nor him, though that isn't his goal currently), but it turns out to be a non-issue. Your pussy swallows his cock easily, stretching around him so perfectly that he nearly chokes. He always hears you talking about how sex with him feels leagues better than with any other person, but he’s not sure if you know that the same is true for him. No one's ever felt as good as you, and it takes every ounce of willpower in him not to cum immediately.

You're already close to the edge, too. Probably pent up from squeezing your thighs together all morning and thinking about his touch. You moan in a way that is obscene, like something out of an AV—but Shin knows that it isn't a performance. He can feel your body and hear your thoughts, all the genuine bliss you get from being filled up. When he starts moving, it's with intent. He fucks you like you’ve been fantasising all day, all week—with a relentless pace, focused on giving you nothing but pleasure. You tighten around him like you were made for him, and—

—apparently you feel like you're being used? Like a hole? The fuck! Shin almost stops mid-stroke to balk at you—he wouldn't do that to you!—but then you moan and he feels you getting wetter at the thought, and then he has no choice but to keep going. He's not about to kill your high.

Nine minutes left. Your clit is throbbing, neglected, and as soon as you think about touching yourself, Shin’s fingers are circling it instead and making you keen. He hits the spot inside you that has your eyes rolling back and your spine arching beautifully, and you can’t speak with your mouth, but he hears you anyway: the begging, the neediness, right there right there you're doing so good Shin you feel so good don't stop don't stop don't, don't—

“Oh fuck,” you whimper, pressing your face into the sheets, and then Shin feels you pulsing around him, drenching him. He gets dragged over the edge with you, gasping sharply as he finds his own release. You collapse as he twitches inside you, spilling himself inside the condom, and he almost snorts when he hears you thinking, wish you were cumming in my pussy instead. Do it raw next time, okay?

“You know we have to use a condom,” he says between pants.

“But I'm on birth control! Read my mind—you know I'm telling the truth!”

“And I also know that birth control is only 93% effective,” he says, rolling his eyes. He glances at the clock. “C'mon—we only have five minutes until our lunch break ends.”

It feels a little weird, rushing you. He’s never had a quickie before, but he understands that you can't exactly take your time with cleaning up afterwards. Still, he thinks about what it was like the last time the two of you did this—how slow and soft it was after, how he stayed inside you for a bit, how he kissed you long and cleaned you up carefully. It just felt like the right thing to do after sleeping with someone, especially given that that someone was you. He'd much prefer to do that right now.

But you are both punctual workers, and anyway Shin’s heard enough of your idle thoughts to know that you’re fairly apathetic to aftercare—you never expect it, and you’re never particularly sad when you don't get it. Sometimes you even fantasize about being used roughly and then discarded (a thought that he finds so unpleasant that it instantly kills his boner every time).

So it's probably fine to rush back downstairs, he figures. He throws you some wipes, lets you clean yourself up. You do it without complaint. You're not upset. He can even hear your mind humming with satisfaction, coming down from the highs of sensory pleasure.

Which is why he's confused when he hears you think, Huh. That didn't feel as good as I thought it would.

It's not like it felt bad.

This is what Shin hears all afternoon: You had a good time. You generally like being treated like a hole. You hadn't thought that Shin would have it in him to do that (neither did he, he admits), but it was kind of thrilling that he did. You want him to do it again for sure. He hit your g-spot with the kind of precision that only an esper can manage, and your vision nearly went white as you found your climax.

And that's what matters, right? You came. You had an orgasm. The little death. The ultimate goal of sex. You used to have a hard time with it, but after so many missions your body started to enjoy sex and now you cum very easily. And you came very easily with Shin, so that means you must enjoy having sex with him too, right?

But it was better the first time you had sex. Objectively better. You came way harder. You even squirted during your second round with him! Your orgasm was so intense that you felt blissed out for the rest of the night, and even the morning after. When you woke up and realised that Shin was not only still there, but also holding you, it made you so horny that you nearly woke him up with a blowjob. It was only with great self-control that you woke him up with breakfast instead.

You don’t feel like that right now, though. You don't feel horny and you don't feel like cooking and the euphoria of your orgasm melted away a while ago. You just feel sort of… empty.

You don't feel bad, though. It's a beautiful day. The char siu bao in your hand is incredibly fragrant. Piisuke is on your shoulder and chirping in your ear. Shin looks really handsome in his apron—did you know that, Shin? you ask him in your mind—and he goes bright red at this thought and looks away. You don't feel bad, you mentally reassure him. You just don't feel as good as you thought you would.

But Shin does feel bad. He feels miserable, actually. He's not a very experienced guy, but even he can tell that you’re the type of person who needs to be held after having sex. It seems like you probably don't realise it, but it's clear as day to Shin, and for the rest of the afternoon he hates himself for not having done it. It wouldn’t have had to be for very long.

Lu could have covered for an extra fifteen minutes, he keeps thinking. Fuck!

Eventually, you ask him to come over in the evening, and he scrambles to agree, desperate for a do-over.

Shin’s not really good at this hook-up business.

Now—he isn't exactly good at relationships either, but he feels exceptionally awkward about coming over to your place with the express purpose of having sex. He isn't familiar with dick appointment etiquette, especially not appointments involving a friend. Was he meant to bring a gift? A Netflix movie recommendation? It would have felt wrong to show up completely empty-handed, so he ends up bringing your favourite snacks and two bottles of Pocari Sweat. If this is anything like the first time he stayed over, you'll probably both need it.

You're delighted by the snacks and amused by the drinks. He wrestles with himself over what kind of small-talk to make—there’s a PS5 out right now, and your TV screen is paused on Leon Kennedy’s face, so maybe he can start a conversation about the horror genre? He watches a lot of films—but you're dragging him into your room before he can overthink it.

“I missed you,” you say, voice all sweet with affection as you straddle his lap.

“It's been two hours,” he points out, somehow managing not to stammer.

“Eight hours since we fucked.”

“That's not very long at all.”

“Felt like forever to me.” Your whisper is so tender in his ear, incongruent with the absolute filth you're thinking about right now. You need his cock so, so bad—you’d have it inside you 24/7 if you could have it your way, though he's also free to help himself to your body at any hour of the day. Sure, he can't smoke on the premises, but there's no rule against hiking up your skirt and pushing your panties to the side so he can—

“I wouldn't do that in the store!” he squawks, and you giggle.

“Then you should start taking me up to your room more often.”

Shin would be more than happy to host you, actually. He’s been thinking lately about having you over for dinner—Aoi’s been teaching him how to cook—and getting to know you better, in a non-Biblical way. But Shin knows that's not what you mean. You want him to carry you upstairs without asking and to throw you onto his bed and to fuck you into the mattress. You want to go back to your shift without your panties, his cum dripping out of your pussy and sliding down your—

“You really want me to finish inside you,” Shin remarks, bewildered at your sheer obsession over it, and you tilt your head.

“Don't you?”

“No. I mean, yes. I mean—we shouldn't. It's, uh. Risky. I don't want to get you, y'know… pregnant…” His dick twitches in a way that makes him grateful that you don't have ESP. He's realising something about himself that he absolutely cannot think about, and which you would absolutely exploit if you figured out. He clears his throat, hoping he looks normal. “Like. You know. It's better to be on the safe side.”

You study him carefully. “I dunno, Shin.” You smile knowingly. “I don't think I'd mind it if you wanted to breed me.”

Shin is going to die.

The next twenty minutes pass in a horny blur. The two of you spend it all over each other, his cock sliding along your opening—dangerously close to pushing in. You beg him for just the tip, both verbally and mentally—pleaaase Shin please please please it'd be so easy, I'm still stretched out from before, you know it'd feel good—and he's watched enough adult films to know that this is a blatant trap. He somehow pulls away, and immediately feels bad at the crushed expression you make, so he decides he has no choice but to make it up to you by putting his head between your thighs. Within minutes he’s sucking on your clit and making you keen, his fingers curling inside you. He knows your orgasm is intense both from the way you gush all over his face and how your mind goes pleasantly, blissfully quiet for a moment.

It doesn't stay quiet for long.

The most debauched image possible comes to his mind—you, underneath him, your legs folded into a mating press as you take his cock. He’s giving you another load, pumping you full. It's filling up your womb, and you'll definitely get pregna—

“You’re fucking evil,” he groans. “And you read way too much hentai. Those visuals were so goofy.”

You laugh, unbothered. “Sorry, I'll adjust them for realism next time.”

“Please don't,” he begs, even though he knows he's going to spend the next week being mentally assaulted by your breeding kink fantasies. He just hopes they stay relatively normal and don't devolve into the weird omegaverse stuff. Or the monsterfucking stuff. Or the gangbang scenarios. Please, God, anything but the gangbang fantasies. He’ll scream if you imagine another threesome with him and that invisible asshole who kidnapped Lu. He’ll simply resign if you add Nagumo.

To your profound disappointment, Shin ends up using a condom. He doesn't give you much time to feel sad about it, settling quickly between your legs and practically knocking the breath out of you as he thrusts into you. He’s left kind of breathless too. You weren't lying—you are still stretched out from earlier in the day, wet and pliant for him, and there's hardly any resistance as he starts pumping into you. He watches you carefully, laid out underneath him—your eyes squeezing shut as you're made to take his cock. Your mind goes a little quiet again, overwhelmed by pleasure. It's simultaneously a blessing and a curse: Shin’s finally getting a break from your psychic teasing, but the knowledge that he's fucking you dumb is doing something horrible to him.

He changes his angle, and a whimper leaves you. You tighten and gush around him in a way that makes it obvious what he’s hitting; he doesn't need ESP to know to keep doing it. Still, your thoughts are going haywire, a tangle of desire, and it's impossible for him to ignore. I need, he keeps hearing as your thighs starts to twitch, as you start tearing up, I need I need I need I need—

Your eyes land on his lips, and Shin hears you.

His kiss is open-mouthed, clumsy, but you’re hungry for it anyway. You’re panting into each other’s mouths when you start pulsing around Shin’s dick, and you end up cumming so hard on his cock that it's dizzying for you both. He fucks you through your orgasm, and it's only when you're glassy-eyed and limp beneath him that he finally lets himself finish. He pulls back as he does, gasping sharply, but not for long—you draw him back in quickly, clinging to him as you seek out another kiss. The two of you stay like that for a long moment—still connected, breaths heavy with exhaustion, lips slow and lazy against each other.

“Enjoy yourself more this time?” Shin asks, and you hum sweetly against his mouth. You’re still too mindless from your orgasm to form any real thoughts, but Shin can tell that you don't really want to talk. You want to keep kissing him. And you want him to hold you while you do it, which he happily obliges.

Some ten minutes later, you make a small noise of protest when Shin pulls out of you, and it turns into a look of outright betrayal when he gets up. Shin’s heart clenches immediately.

“Just getting stuff to clean up,” he explains, and you relax visibly.

“Oh,” you say. “Right.”

You seem antsy. You feel antsy. You're antsy because you just realised how much you like kissing Shin. Specifically, you've realised that kissing him elevates your orgasms into mind-blowing experiences, and now you're questioning every other orgasm you've had. Maybe I don't actually enjoy sex that much? you wonder. Or maybe I always needed to be kissed to enjoy it more? Wait, no. I hate it when people kiss me. It's gross. Except for when it's Shin. Why Shin? Hm… that apron must really be doing something for me.

Your head hurts. Shin patiently watches you replay your past experiences in your head, comparing all those nights with this one, and he can’t help but frown. Deeply. Your eyes go wide when he gives you an alarmed look at one particular memory.

“Shit, sorry! I forgot you’d see all that.”

“No, I'm sorry,” he says, feeling—not for the first time—guilty about his powers. “If I could turn it off, I would.”

“Don't be sorry. You can't help it. That'd be like if I were sorry for breathing.” But despite your easy words, you’re watching him carefully, and your mind is stirring in an unsettling way. I'm nervous? you realise. Your heart is beating in a way that suggests a flight or fight response. It gets worse the longer you stare at him. Why am I nervous? Tell me, Shin.

“I wouldn't know.” Except he’s got a good guess, and he'd rather die than say it out loud because it would be embarrassing for you both if he were wrong. He'd have to resign. Nevertheless, he tries to guide you in a specific direction: “Have you really never liked it when people kissed you?”

“No,” you reply immediately. “I don't see the point of kissing during sex.”

He gives you a long look. “What if it’s not just sex? What if it's just a regular kiss on a regular day with, like, a partner? Someone you're really serious about.” He blinks at the confused stare you're giving him. “You mean you don't like that either?”

It's suddenly very noisy. Shin can hear your mind buzzing as you stare at the ceiling of your room, not with coherent sentences so much as shapeless confusion. His skin crawls with the echo of your discomfort; it's a wonder you aren't slipping out from the sheets to run away.

“...I don't know,” you finally decide. “I don't have much real dating experience.”

“Huh? You’ve said before that you've dated lots of guys.”

“Um.” You’re careful not to look at him. “Yeah, I guess. They all sucked though. I, like, wanted to kill every single one of my exes.”

“Like they were shitty boyfriends?”

No, like they were assassination targets, you think, and Shin has to keep a straight face as you reply, “Yeah, something like that.”

You rarely lie to Shin. You did it somewhat frequently until you figured out that he was capable of ESP, and then you stopped because you didn't see a point anymore. You only do it now when there's something you really don't want to talk about, so Shin relents. He focuses on cleaning himself up, and he interrupts the tense hum of your thoughts when he turns his attention to you. By the time he's finished and slid back into bed, your more complicated emotions have vanished, and you're back to marveling at the quality of the orgasm you just had. Apparently you like to keep things fairly simple in your inner world.

When Shin puts an arm around you, he can hear your pleasant surprise—and your immediate desire to press into him.

You're so happy just being held by him, it's shocking. And painfully endearing. Shin tries to pretend not to notice the warm glow of your thoughts, as well as your confusion over them: surely the simple act of being close to someone can't feel so good. Maybe the whole kissing thing was just a coincidence and Shin happened to be hitting it just right when your lips met. Or maybe he used his ESP on you to make you cum extra hard and he's still influencing you, and that's why you feel so tenderhearted right now.

“My powers only allow me to read minds,” he tells you. “I can't control other people.”

“Aw,” you say, “that's too bad. I bet forced orgasms with ESP would feel amazing.”

“...”

Shin realises something else about himself that he absolutely cannot let you know. Thankfully for him, you're none the wiser. Your mind’s somewhere else entirely when you climb on top of him, smiling neatly. Mind you, what you're thinking is still making him feel nervous. He's always a little out of his depth with you.

“Shin…”

You lean in, breath sweeping over his lips. His heart jumps.

“Y-yeah?”

“I'm still confused about how that felt so good.”

“I’ve noticed.”

You hold back a laugh. “Yeah, I guess you would have.” Then you give him an apologetic look. “Sorry I'm so stuck on it. I just thought I knew my body, y'know? I felt like I had tried everything worth trying. Sex was starting to feel boring, including the freaky stuff. But this is very new to me.”

This close up, Shin can feel the brush of your lashes when they flutter. See the glossy swell of your lips from all the kissing. Take in the fragrance of your hair. He starts to feel dizzy. “I-is it? I don't think we've been doing anything, uh. Crazy.”

“I didn't think so either.” Your thumb traces his lip. You're thinking about kissing him again, and you're also thinking about riding him as you do it. “I can't help but want to try it a few more times, you know? Just to make sure it wasn't a fluke.”

“A few more times,” he repeats, and you smile.

“You don't have anywhere you need to be tonight, do you?”

The two of you get two hours of sleep that night, and you end up going through both bottles of Pocari Sweat and all the snacks. There's no time for breakfast or burnt coffee the morning after; you make the executive decision to just eat something at the store instead. Shin leaves behind a toothbrush and you tell him he should also bring an extra set of clothes next time. He tries not to get too excited about the fact that there's going to be a next time. He fails.

Mr. Sakamoto sees the two of you as you make it to work just on time together and immediately figures out what's happened. Shin gets a mental reprimand for not marrying you first, and the disappointment from Mr. Sakamoto is so strong that he briefly considers resigning out of disgrace. But he stays on, and the days pass, and your relationship with him remains the same. Sort of.

Because, see. Now that you're regularly getting laid, your horny thoughts have finally (finally!) calmed down. You now have one free-use fantasy a day instead of twelve, and your daydreams only occasionally feature tentacle monsters. You do like to torture Shin with breeding kink scenarios, but that's only once a day, and they never involve any other guys. Shin considers this a victory, respite from the psychic agony that he was previously experiencing.

There's just one problem.

You want to kiss Shin all the time now, and it's making him feel like the horniest person alive.

He can't believe it. He doesn't have a particularly strong sex drive, and he rarely ever has sexual fantasies. But holy shit is he having them a lot now, and he can't say it's strictly your fault.

You spend most of the day now thinking about what it felt like to kiss him in bed, and what it felt like to hold his hand as he moved inside you, and what it felt like to be in his arms afterwards. What it would feel like if you were to do those things that you used to hate—kissing someone, linking fingers, embracing them—with Shin. Not just in bed, but on a regular day, out in the open. In a secluded park somewhere, or maybe at the top of a Ferris wheel, or even on a random street corner if the mood is right. All of these daydreams are usually followed by very explicit fantasies about public, unprotected sex, but the kissing is the most important part of it. The subsequent creampies are pretty significant too, but not nearly as much as the bits where you make out.

And somehow, the thought of cumming in you is not the part of the fantasy that's driving Shin crazy.

You give him a meaningful look. A week ago, this would have been a sign that you wanted him to bend you over the counter and give you backshots. Now it means you want to sneak away to kiss him and hold hands, and this makes him want to do things to you that would get him fired immediately.

Shin sighs, and he contemplates shoving himself into the freezer.

END

I wrote this with one hand and did not proofread it. my apologies if you see any errors. I just needed to be free of these thoughts asap. release me...

PS - I know the Resident Evil/Leon Kennedy mention must have felt very random, but it's set-up for potential future sequels haha.

[gf2bellamy]

hi lovely you know that part in s6ep19 where Spencer says he can’t sleep and can’t focus on cases and he looks like he just needs a BIG HUG could you please write something about reader comforting him- either as bau agent or as just significant other because no one else will do the comfort justice the way you can okay love you bye

sleep — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: established relationship , mention of spencer looking / being exhausted a/n: hi hi !! honestly that ep always makes my heart hurt bc he looked so so so so exhausted :( i hope i did your request justice <3

You should have felt hurt. Or sad. Or at least disappointed. But you didn’t.

Maybe you were too used to this by now—the way Spencer threw himself into work until his body had no choice but to shut down. The way he lost track of time, of himself, of you.

Still, you hadn’t expected to hear it from Penelope.

She had called you after they returned from the case, her voice hesitant, choosing her words carefully. That alone told you enough. Spencer hadn’t stopped by your apartment like he usually did.

No texts. No calls. Nothing.

“He wouldn’t stop working,” she had said. “Hotch had to practically drag him up to his hotel room, and even then, I don’t think he actually slept.”

That was worse than normal.

You knew Spencer had a habit of pushing himself past his limits, but this time, he hadn’t even come to you. And that was what worried you the most.

So you didn’t care if you seemed clingy or overbearing. You didn’t care if he might have wanted space. You weren’t going to let him spiral alone.

Grabbing your jacket, you shoved your arms through the sleeves, barely taking the time to lock the door behind you as you rushed out of your apartment. Fifteen minutes later, you were standing in front of Spencer’s door, your heart hammering against your ribs as you knocked.

There was a long pause. Then, finally, the door creaked open.

The moment you saw him, you had to fight the urge to physically react.

He looked exhausted.

His hair was more disheveled than usual, messy strands sticking up like he’d been running his fingers through it nonstop. The dark circles under his eyes were worse than you’d ever seen them—deep, almost bruised-looking hollows. His usually sharp cheekbones were even more pronounced.

“What are you doing here?” His voice was hoarse, rough like he hadn’t used it in hours.

“Checking up on you,” you said simply.

You stepped inside without giving him the chance to protest, pushing the door closed behind you. Spencer just stood there, watching as you toed off your shoes and shrugged out of your jacket, hanging it neatly on the rack by the door—like this was just any other night, like nothing was wrong.

But something was wrong.

And you weren’t going to let him brush it aside.

“Okay, come on.” You reached for his hand as you pulled him toward his bedroom.

He didn’t resist.

He followed wordlessly, exhaustion weighing down his every step. Inside, you went straight to his closet, flipping through the hangers until you found what you were looking for. One of his favorite sweaters—the soft brown one that you’d seen him wear countless times.

You pulled it from the hanger and turned back to him, pressing it into his hands.

“Put this on,” you murmured.

Spencer stared down at the sweater for a moment before looking at you, his gaze unreadable.

“Who told you?” he asked as he pulled the fabric over his head, the movement slow and tired.

“Penelope.”

“Of course.” He sighed, adjusting the sleeves, his fingers lingering on the hem. Now dressed in the familiar comfort of his sweater, he looked back at you. “Now what?”

You didn’t reply. Instead, you stepped closer, wrapping your arms around him without hesitation.

Spencer froze.

For a moment, he didn’t move—like he wasn’t sure how to react. But you didn’t let go. Your arms stayed firm around his neck, your fingers curling into the soft fabric of his sweater as you pressed yourself against him.

With your lips close to his ear, you murmured, “I don’t know what’s bothering you, but I love you, Spence. And I’m here for you.”

That was all it took.

The tension in his body gave way as he exhaled a shaky breath, and then, finally, he hugged you back.

His arms tightened around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer, his grip almost desperate. His lips brushed against your shoulder, lingering there.

You were pretty sure you stood there for at least five minutes, wrapped in each other’s warmth, neither of you speaking. You only pulled back when you felt him loosen his grip first.

Leaning back slightly, you placed your hands on his face, your thumbs gently tracing over the sharp planes of his cheekbones, soothing him. His skin was warm beneath your touch.

“You need to sleep,” you murmured, your gaze flickering over the dark circles under his eyes again.

“I can’t,” he admitted, voice barely above a whisper.

“You have to try.”

One of your hands drifted up, fingers slipping through his unruly curls, smoothing them down. A slow, comforting motion. He stayed quiet, his tired eyes searching yours like he was trying to memorize the way you looked at him.

After a moment, he finally spoke.

“Will you stay?” His voice was soft, hesitant, almost like he was afraid of the answer.

A small smile tugged at your lips.

“You have to ask?”

His lips parted slightly, as if he wanted to say something else, but before he could, you dropped your hand from his hair and turned toward his bed. Pulling back the blankets, you glanced at him expectantly.

“Come on,” you urged.

Spencer hesitated for only a second before stepping forward. He sat down on the edge of the bed, rubbing a hand over his face, exhaustion radiating from every movement. You slipped in beside him, settling against the pillows, waiting for him to follow.

And he did.

Without a word, he laid down, turning onto his side so he could face you.

You reached out, your fingers grazing his wrist before sliding down to intertwine with his.

“Close your eyes, Spence,” you whispered.

And, for the first time in days, he did.

Spencer stayed beside you, but sleep still wasn’t coming easily. Even as his body slumped against the bed, his fingers twitched slightly, his breaths uneven. His mind was still running, and you could feel it—like an engine that refused to shut off.

You sighed, adjusting your position. You guided him toward you without a word.

Spencer blinked at you, puzzled, until you tugged on his arm again. “Spence, come here.”

He hesitated for only a second before shifting, laying his head against your shoulder, his body half-draped over yours. His long limbs folded awkwardly at first, like he wasn’t sure how to settle, but then he exhaled, the weight of him sinking into you.

You ran your fingers through his hair, smoothing down the curls. “You’re really bad at this whole relaxing thing, you know that?”

He let out a quiet huff against your shoulder. “Yeah, I’ve been told.”

“I mean, I shouldn’t be surprised. Your brain is like a hamster on a wheel. A very fast, very anxious hamster.”

Spencer made a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. “That’s… not inaccurate.”

You grinned a little, continuing to comb your fingers through his hair. “Well, tell the hamster to take a break. He’s had a long day.”

Spencer hummed, shifting slightly, pressing his face closer into the crook of your neck. “The hamster is skeptical.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “The hamster needs to trust me.”

He was quiet for a moment, his breathing a little slower now. “I do.” His voice was softer, more tired.

You smiled, rubbing slow circles against his back. “Good.”

It still took a while. He fidgeted, exhaled sharply once or twice, but you just kept holding him, kept whispering small, mindless things—about how tired you were, how unfair it was that he had such nice hair when he barely even tried, how you were absolutely stealing one of his sweaters in the morning.

And finally, finally, his breathing evened out.

His body went still, warm and heavy against yours, his grip on your shirt slackening as he actually drifted off.

You smirked, murmuring softly, “See? Even the hamster gets tired eventually.”

And, for the first time all night, he didn’t respond.

[lilianalovespink]

Your lungs burn.

Your skin does too.

Sweat soaked clothes cling to your skin, cotton made heavy by the sheer amount of it that you've let off in the last hour of training.

But most importantly, there's a lump in your throat that aches worse than any cough ever could've- feeling like that time you had tonsillitis as a child.

"'ny more wisdom or are you done, private?"

If you cry now, he'll be kind; understanding. He always is, but that's the problem.

"I'm done captain."

~

'Unable to follow orders without questions, unable to integrate into the team.'

Sincerely and with your entire heart, you wish only the worst upon John Price. You could follow orders, you could work with them- if they let you.

A discomfort of needle like nature pulls through your muscles at that thought, considering that you had in fact voiced it and that the consequence had been the training you usually do over the course of three hours having to get done within an hour, no breaks, no warmups.

The worst part, you thought as you stepped out of the showers, is that in his view, he didn't hate you but rather...think you incompetent; a cocky amateur with too much of their chest puffed out.

You, a little child, a toddler acting rebellious or throwing a tantrum, and him, the sensible adult, strict but 'caring'.

"Shh, I know. This is too much for you. I know."

Leave it to him to make comfort a painful act; one for you to be belittled during, made out to be just another stupid teen in over their head.

Yes, you were younger than your commander, your captain, but no younger than your lieutenant or seargant.

Just not at their rank.

Your transfer to the 141 was abrupt, but by no means unwelcome. You were the best in your recruitment class, you were capable but as price, at the time you thought jokingly, put it, you weren't 'broken in'.

And boy did he have every intention of breaking you.

Training was tough, but doable except-

"You were top of your class? Again."

"There's a reason you're still a private."

"If you can't manage, leave."

And then, whenever you snap at him, show teeth at the hand that constantly strikes you, he's a saint. He's really just putting you what everyone else is going through, why are you this upset? Clearly because you're immature.

If you can hold back your urge to bite bite bite- this man, if you try to ask him stuff it's really a coin flip of what version of Captain John Price you'll get.

"You can't handle it? That's okay. It's okay, hey- no crying. Come here...yeah, that's a good girl."

Or, in case you didn't crawl between his legs like a scared puppy-

"I'm only being hard on you because I thought you wanted to be better. Was I wrong about that? Or do you want to be something other than a private one day?"

The worst part is that, the team seems to see you as a puppy as well- with you literally getting that as a monicker.

Lt. Riley wasn't as cold and mysterious as you expected when you first saw the mask, but he certainly wasn't hellbent on letting you be his buddy, let alone his comrade. He never helped you out unless you asked, but, should you make that mistake, to ask for help, he'll nod and simply guide you aside like you're a sheep and he's your shepherd. Like teaching you wasn't literally his job.

Sgt. MacTavish as well as Sgt. Garrick had initially been warm and inviting, had made you feel like this was your team- until you noticed how they'd leave you out whenever they could. Sure, neither of them were rude but- they weren't proper teammates either.

And then, of course, Captain Price.

What should you say about this man? How horrible he is? Would that do what he's put you through any justice?

As if this alienation from the people you literally had to trust with your life wasn't bad enough, the way they seemed to pity you was worse. Like you were a small child who dropped your candy.

It hurt, badly.

So when Commander Philipp Graves joined for a mission in Los Alamos and was the only one who treated you like you were on one level?

Yeah, you took the bait.

[thepitlanepress]

UM WHO ARE YOU? –

↳ lando norris + fem!reader

⌗ :: masterlist

⌗ :: a/n: something lando while i work on the smau !! also black and white pics of lando>>> a warning tho the sleep deprivation kicked in at about halfway through

your friend was late.

again.

this was the seven hundredth time michael had been late this week alone. seriously, its like he did it on purpose. you had been standing in the restaurant's carpark for the last half an hour waiting on you ride home.

it's late, it's dark, you're cold and tired. boy was the asshole in for it when he showed up. how could he leave a you out here in these conditions? it was practically snowing.

eventually michael's car turns up and slows to a stop in the car park, you think its weird how he keeps rolling a bit while you try and grab the handle but its they way he is, always taking the piss out of you on a daily basis.

he stops shortly after and you yank the door open piling inside and berating him. "seriously dude? you're half an hour late and i have been dying to bed. its almost snowing outside and you just leave...me..."

thats not michael.

sitting in the drivers seat is lando norris? the world famous f1 driver? what is he doing at your restaurant? no no better question, why the hell are you in his car you dumbass?

"um, who are you?" he asks sitting there, a confused and suspicious look on his face, he probably thinks your some crazy fan, which doesn't help the situation you're in.

"oh my god, i am so sorry, i got in the wrong car, this isn't happening. i'm so sorry, i thought you were my friend, gosh im so-" you begin to say but cut yourself off when you start to ramble. instead collecting yourself and bracing for the cold when you open the door.

"wait," lando's voice stops you, your hand on the door, ready to leave. "you can stay in here until your friend arrives," he says smiling, there is still the edge in his voice, and thats understandable, but he's being kind and letting you stay in the warm at least.

"thank you," you smile and sit back in the seat relaxing and closing your eyes basking in the warmth of the car, and the smell of lando's cologne. its not your fault its the only thing that you can smell.

"so can i ask; what were you doing out there? its snowing and you have no coat on, thats not okay," he asks his voice drifting to you.

"my friend michael was supposed to pick me up, but evidently he was late," you answer, opening your tired eyes and sighing. "he's always late these days. this is like the third time this week i've had to wait for him for like an hour after work."

"you're telling me you spend half an hour to an hour waiting for this guy to come pick you up from work? and he's always late?"

you nod not bothering to defend michael right now, he's making you wait with a stranger for over an hour, the last thing he deserves is your defence.

"what a shithead."

an unexpected laugh rumbles from your throat. "that's michael for you."

"thats michael? seriously?" lando's brows furrow and he looks disgusted by even the thought of it. "he's not your friend."

"what?"

"that boy is not your friend. a real friend would be here in the carpark early warming up your seat for you, waiting with a coat. not showing up hours late to a-" he looks out his window. "closed restaurant. god it keeps getting worse."

you sigh quietly and shake your head, "i don't know what to do, i don't have a car and calling an uber is not my favourite thing at this time of night."

"give me your phone," lando says suddenly.

"what?"

"can i borrow your phone please?" he repeats.

"sure?" you say pulling it out of your pocket, unlocking it and handing it over to him.

he types something quickly and smiles before handing it over to you again. you look down and on the screen is a new contact "lando aka your new best friend"

despite the circumstances you laugh, "what's this for?"

"text me when you finish work each shift and i'll come pick you up."

"what?"

"i'll pick you up or have someone trusted pick you up at the end of your shifts," he says simply.

"why?" you ask bewildered by his kindness.

"because i'm your new best friend duh."

you smile and he grins back at you. "come on i'll drive you home," he says putting his seatbelt on and gesturing for you to do the same.

"thank you," you whisper.

the drive home lulls you to sleep. maybe it was the quiet hum of the radio, or the warmth of the car or the company. whatever it was it sent you to sleep quickly, with a smile on your face and your heart full, you made a new friend.

you never did ask lando why he was in the car park that night. and he never did tell you how he had overheard your friend shit talking and complaining about you at a random club before he ran off with some girl.

and he never did tell you about how he very nearly dropped everything to go pick up the mystery girl who was depending on the worlds biggest asshole.

he never told you,

not even when he got down on one knee or when he stood up in front of all of your friends with you in a white dress.

he never told you how he almost fell in love on the spot when you burst into his car and then profusely apologised when you realised you made a mistake.

he never told you.

but he always picked you up, no matter where or when, he was there.

2025 © thepitlanepress | please do not steal, use, translate or repost any of my works

– comments, likes and reblogs appreciated !

[thedragonofbadasstemple]

I don't normally comment on posts like this, but obsessed with the take as well that the point of this is to "cheer for them". The project is collecting testimonies from people who were involved with the MAGA movement, explaining why they fell into it, and why they left. We NEED stories like this to understand others and their viewpoints. We can't change people's minds, much less help them, if we can't understand why they think they way they do, or why the made the decisions that they did. Not everyone who voted for Trump did so for the same reason. Not everyone who wears a MAGA hat wears it for the same reason. A personal example, my father and my sibling both voted for Trump. My father blindsided me by this. He didn't vote for him the first two times, but did this time. With a sigh he explained his reason as "I watched the debates. He had a plan for the economy. Kamala didn't." He's a disabled vet. He works two jobs and my mom brings in more money than him. He's sick. He's a wounded dog that reached out for a shred of hope where he saw it. I know its misguided. I know that he made a lot of mistakes in life that led to where he is now, and that the economy is not to blame for his current predicament, but he can't see that. He has an entire lived experience different than mine that led up to this. My sibling is bisexual and transgender. He is 1.75 years younger than me. He is autistic and very mentally ill. He has never moved out from our parent's house, despite having thousands of dollars saved. He enjoys Warhammer 40k. He is a MAGA cultist. This is a change that happened out of nowhere for me. He blindsided me three years ago when we were hanging out on Christmas Eve and he wanted to show me Ben Shapiro stuff. I was surprised. I asked how could he watch that kind of stuff when he was queer and trans. He just responded "why are you bringing identity politics into this?" Its only gotten worse from there. Despite being trans himself, and despite me being his biggest ally and supporter for coming out to our parents, he misgenders me and says that he "doesn't believe in non-binary". He gets mad when I shit talk Trump and Elon. He is someone who doesn't always have a grip on reality, treats everything as a personal attack against him, and has little self-confidence. He has always been someone easily persuaded by others. Hes always had a nasty selfish streak. it makes absolute sense to me that he would end up falling into a hateful cult that would make him feel better than other people. If you have a loved one in the MAGA cult, you need to understand how they got to that point if you want to help them and get them out. If you want to be politically active and engage with other people of opposing viewpoints, then you need to know what those viewpoints are and why they hold those views in order to debate them. If you don't care, then you don't care. Not your circus, not your monkeys. But this information is valuable, even if its not relevant to you. No one is asking you to bend over backgrounds and congratulate anyone. This is just information for those who would seek it. That's all.

This is an interesting thing. Looks like testimonies of people who left the MAGA movement- how they got into it and why.

Leaving a cult is really hard, so I really respect the people who are speaking from this place.

[uusira]

The first thing Buck notices is the cigarette smoke curling into the night air.

It’s raining.

Not the heavy, drowning kind—just a light drizzle, the kind that clings to skin and soaks into clothes without you even realizing it. The kind that makes the world feel too quiet, too heavy.

Tommy is sitting on the hood of his truck, parked in an empty lot outside some diner that closed hours ago. His head is tilted back, eyes half-closed like he’s listening to something Buck can’t hear. There’s an untouched cup of coffee beside him, long since gone cold. A cigarette dangles loosely between his fingers, barely smoked, the ember flickering faintly in the dim light.

Buck sighs, stepping forward. “Didn’t know you picked up a new habit.”

Tommy doesn’t flinch, doesn’t even look at him. Just lets out a slow breath. “Didn’t.” He looks at the cigarette. “Just felt like it.”

Buck hesitates before sitting next to him. “That bad, huh?”

Tommy huffs a dry laugh. “Been worse.”

Buck studies him in the dim light. The tight set of his jaw, the tension in his shoulders, the way his hands twitch like he’s holding something fragile and doesn’t know what to do with it.

“Wanna talk about it?” Buck offers, keeping his voice light.

Tommy finally turns to him, eyes tired but sharp. “You gonna listen?”

The question stings more than it should. “Yeah,” Buck says quietly. He shrugs. “I’m here.”

Tommy looks at him for a long moment before sighing, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t even know what to say.”

“Try,” Buck presses.

Tommy exhales. “I keep thinking… if I could just have five more minutes. With you. With us. Before everything fell apart.” His voice wavers. “I think I’d do it differently.”

Buck’s fingers curl against the truck. The words hit him like a punch to the ribs. He swallows hard. “Y-yeah,” he murmurs. “Me too.”

Tommy looks at him again, and for a second, Buck swears he sees something like hope flicker in his eyes. But then Tommy blinks, and whatever was there is gone.

He leans back, flicks the cigarette away, watching as the ember fades into the rain. Then he closes his eyes, letting the water soak into his skin. “Just sit with me a little longer, yeah?”

Buck nods. He stays.

Just five more minutes.

Maybe five more after that.

[00valentina-writes00]

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE! Write a smut where Vi is fucking the reader but the Reader fakes an orgasm but vi dose not find out right then and there. Instead vi finds out when they are hanging out with friends and drinking and playing games where someone asked “have you every faked an orgasm” and than before reader could say anything Vi says “no she hasn’t” like really cocky and then the reader is like actually I have once but it’s because I was really tried and then vi is like shocked but dose not say anything and they keep going for the night. And then when they get home vi is ALL OVER THE READER and says “I’m gonna make up for that one time you faked it. Right now and I’m gonna make you have the best one of your life that you forgot your fucking name.” And she DOSE. She fucking delivered that shit.

♡♥︎ MAKE IT UP TO YOU ♥︎♡

Warnings: smut, strap-on sex, mild dominance, Vi being competitive and cocky, reader getting absolutely wrecked.

It wasn’t like you meant to fake it.

You were just so fucking tired, and Vi had been going at it for a while, doing everything right, touching you just how you liked—but your body wasn’t cooperating.

So you’d made the call.

A little tensing up, a breathy moan, a few shakes for dramatic effect—and Vi had bought it, completely.

You felt a little guilty, but it wasn’t a big deal, right? It was one time.

Or so you thought.

It all fell apart at a game night.

You and Vi were knee-deep in drinks, hanging out with friends, playing one of those truth-or-drink type of games.

Someone read the next question out loud, grinning:

“Have you ever faked an orgasm?”

You didn’t even get the chance to open your mouth before Vi leaned back, smirking, and said, so fucking cocky,

“Nah, she hasn’t.”

Your stomach dropped.

Everyone laughed, teasing her for being so confident, but you just stared at her, your drink suddenly feeling way too strong in your hand.

“Actually…” you said hesitantly.

Vi’s smirk froze.

“I… might’ve, uh… once.”

Vi’s head snapped toward you so fast you thought she might get whiplash.

“What?”

You gave her an apologetic shrug. “I was just really tired, babe.”

The group oohed, making it so much worse, and Vi just sat there, processing, lips slightly parted, eyes wide as hell.

But she didn’t say a word.

Just nodded once, took a slow sip of her drink, and kept the game going like nothing had happened.

Like she wasn’t plotting your fucking demise.

—-

The second you stepped into your apartment, the door barely clicking shut, Vi was on you.

You gasped as your back hit the wall, Vi towering over you, her fingers already gripping your jaw, tilting your face up to hers.

Her voice was low, rough, her breath warm against your lips.

“I’m gonna make up for that one time you faked it,” she murmured, eyes burning into yours.

Your breath hitched.

“I’m gonna make you come so hard you forget your fucking name,” she growled.

And then she delivered.

—

You were on the bed, naked, legs spread, Vi between them, grinding the thick strap against your cunt, the strap glistening with your wetness as she dragged it up and down your folds, teasing you, keeping you on edge.

You whimpered, hips twitching, trying to get more, and Vi just chuckled darkly, hands gripping your thighs, keeping you right where she wanted.

“Needy little thing,” she teased, pressing a slow, deep kiss to your inner thigh.

You gasped when she finally pushed in, the strap stretching you open, the sensation making your back arch off the bed.

“Fuck—”

Vi groaned, gripping your hips tight, keeping you still as she sank deeper, watching your face twist in pleasure.

“That’s it,” she murmured, voice husky. “You feel that, baby?”

You nodded weakly, panting, your nails clawing at the sheets.

Vi smirked, grinding her hips, the strap pressing right against that spot, making your entire body jolt.

“Yeah,” she whispered. “You’re gonna fucking feel this.”

And then she started moving.

It was punishing, her pace relentless, the sound of her hips slapping against you, her strap hitting deep, fucking you open, making you whimper and squirm.

“You faked it, huh?” she growled, voice strained, hands gripping your hips so tight you knew there’d be bruises tomorrow.

You couldn’t even respond, too busy moaning, gasping for air as she fucked you raw, the pleasure overwhelming.

Vi was so fucking smug, watching you, her lips curled into a grin, sweat dripping down her arms.

“Not this time, baby,” she murmured, leaning down, her chest pressing against yours, her lips brushing your ear.

“You’re gonna cum for me for real.”

And then she angled her hips just right—

Your vision went white.

You cried out, back arching, the orgasm ripping through you, your entire body shaking as pleasure exploded through your veins.

Vi groaned, watching you, riding you through it, her thrusts slowing but still deep, milking every last shudder and tremble from your body.

She kissed you softly, murmuring against your lips, “That’s my girl.”

She didn’t stop.

By the time she was done, you were wrecked, boneless, lying there in a dazed, sweaty mess, your body still twitching from overstimulation.

Vi chuckled breathlessly, collapsing beside you, her hand coming up to cup your cheek, tilting your exhausted face toward hers.

“You good?” she murmured, pressing a lazy kiss to your swollen lips.

You could barely speak, could barely even move, your entire body still buzzing from how hard she fucked you.

Vi just grinned, brushing your hair out of your face.

“Yeah,” she murmured, smug as hell. “That one was real.”

[lackadaisycats]

Hello Tracy, I've been a fan of Lackadaisy since the webcomic days and want to ask a quick question regarding Patreon. I'm also an indie creative myself and currently trying to raise funds for a show I'm working on. What are the best ways to market myself online, and what are some ways to obtain money for the production of merchandise that doesn't involve crowdfunding?

Any specific advice I could give about marketing oneself online at this point would be pretty outdated. I started making Lackadaisy years back, when the internet had a rather different geography and culture. DeviantArt was where all the art kids were. That is, of course, no longer the case.

My generalized advice, though, would be to start working on your project, start sharing it in some form, even if it's just concept art or experiments at this phase, and start building an audience. Nothing speaks to the quality and appeal of whatever it is you're making like the thing itself does. Pick your poisons, as far as social media goes, but probably don't focus solely on one. Platforms don't remain useful or pleasant places to be forever. Set up an avenue for viewers to support you (Patreon, Ko-fi, or something like it), but don't expect supporters to come flooding in all at once. The internet is awash with so many creators and shows and influencers and distractions, it's hard to make waves. Tenacity will be your ally, though. You are likely going to be pursuing your project on the side and possibly working at a loss for a while as you build. Keep things small scale, especially if you're working solo, or with a small team of people. Audience growth and support may eventually start allowing you to expand your ambitions. It's important to do the thing you're doing out of love for the art, for the project itself, for the experience of doing it, and not because you're expecting rounds of applause, accolades, and money to come rushing at you. There's no guarantee that last part will happen...so at least make sure you're having fun doing whatever you're doing.

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

About merchandise --

You can incur the upfront cost of producing, say, a small run of enamel pins. Sell them on your own shop storefront or offer them to supporters at certain tier levels and see how long it takes to earn back the production cost such that you start earning a little bit of profit. Get a feel for how well you can handle packaging and shipping things yourself. Test the waters before making any large merch orders, and don't order vast amounts of something that you don't have room to 'warehouse' in your own home.

You can go the print on demand route. It's got its drawbacks - like slim returns - but it allows you to offer an assortment of merch items without the huge risk of paying big manufacturing fees upfront. It can also do the fulfillment/shipping part for you. I did pretty okay selling prints this way for a time. (Research and be selective about what services you use here, though. Some have gotten markedly worse over the years.)

I know Patreon offers a subscription level for creators that includes some merch production and fulfillment. I haven't personally used it, though, so I'd ask around to see what other creators' experiences have been like with it.

One thing I would suggest relying more heavily on, especially at first, is digital/downloadable rewards, like PDF ebooks or digital sketchbooks - things like that. Shipping supplies and postage costs are ever-increasing and can easily end up putting you in the red. Also, if you have an international audience, it may be difficult to reach them with tangible merch items.

You might also check out some nearby conventions to see if they'd be a good fit for you and your project. Apply for artist alley space at one of them if that's appropriate, or investigate whether or not it'd be worth it to get a dealer table. You might even find someone willing to share dealer space with you for a trial-run.

At some point, when you have enough of an audience to warrant it, seek out a merch partner. Or, they might come scouting for you if they think you have something going that'd be soundly marketable.

[joelslastofus]

[SUMMARY: Tess’ jealousy reaches a new level when she finds out you might be pregnant.]

PART TWO

Angst

“The hell did you tell her?”

Tess stood silent and he knew right then and there…he knew she had told you about Sarah and scared you away.

It had been a little over a month since you and Joel had first gotten together, since then you both were inseparable. A few things had changed since Joel confessed his feeling for you although they weren’t exactly changes you hoped for. Tess was still around, silent but always obvious of her dislike towards you. Instead the changes involved a new task, a task that involved a young girl named Ellie. Marlene, whom Joel had known but didn’t seem to like had asked him to take Ellie to a group of firefly’s that would then take over where she needed to be taken to. The only reason he went along with it was because his last chance to get a working car fell through. Now Marlene promised him he’d have a working car to get to Jackson as long as he took Ellie where she was supposed to be.

One thing you noticed was Ellie seemed to be more gravitated to you than Tess, just another thing that pissed Tess off. Especially with seeing how Joel seemed to be getting closer to Ellie.

Ellie and you laughed together at certain jokes she would tell you, looking over you caught Joel trying to hold back a smile.

“You thought that was funny didnt you?” You teased walking beside them through the woods.

“Oh yeah, look at him, he could barely keep himself together” Ellie continued, poking fun at Joel. Tess rolled her eyes at the sound of the laughter, it’s like she hated hearing how well you all got along.

“Can we focus on where we’re goin’?” Tess called out over her shoulder without looking at any of you.

“Someone’s grumpy” Ellie whispered making you look down with a smile until it hit you again. The nausea you had been ignoring for the past week, the nausea that you’ve somehow managed to hide from everyone. At first you didn’t think anything of it but as the days went on, you couldn’t help but wonder what the hell was going on. Keeping track of your period was pointless with it never being on schedule anyways, so you weren’t alarmed when it didn’t come the same time as the month before. But now you were starting to feel all these things you had read about, all these symptoms you remembered this pregnant woman Dolores spoke about feeling.

Joel and Ellie hadn’t noticed you stopped at first until he looked over to see you weren’t walking beside Ellie. Quickly turning around he found you a few feet behind leaning over on a tree. Ellie noticed Joel’s look of concern and turned herself to see the same thing.

“Hey-“ Joel called out to you making you quickly look up.

“Oh god” you whispered to yourself.

“I’m fine” you attempted to assure him but you should’ve known better, Joel was already quickly making his way to you.

“What’s wrong? You alright?” He spoke low.

You couldn’t speak in that moment, quickly nodding to assure him that you were fine until you looked up. He must’ve noticed something because the look on his face only seemed more concerned than he originally was.

“Here take some water” he passed you his bottle that you quickly took. As if your nausea couldn’t get any worse, Tess’ voice made your stomach turn.

“What’s the hold up?” She called out.

“Give us a minute” Joel responded as she loudly sucked her teeth.

“We don’t have a damn minute, it’s gonna get dark soon” Ellie looked back at how rude Tess was and raised her brows.

“She’s fine, keep walkin’” Tess stubbornly spoke. You nodded quickly handing Joel his bottle of water.

“I’m fine, let’s go” you wiped your lips, still feeling the nausea but not as bad as it was just a few moments earlier.

“We can sit down for a moment” Joel insisted not giving two shits what Tess was saying.

“N-no. I’m fine”

“Let’s go” Tess insisted.

“Hey-“ Joel whispered delicately turning your face to him.

“Ya sure?”

Tess once again rolling her eyes crossing her arms.

“I’m sure, let’s go” you began to walk beside Joel catching up to where Ellie was as Tess walked off.

Throughout the walk you could feel Joel’s eyes on you, although you continued, he didn’t believe you were ok.

The first stop you all made was at a pharmacy, you were surprised to see there was any product left. Tess, Joel and you made sure the building was clear before checking what was left. Thankfully your nausea had gone away but you knew it would come back sooner or later, it always did around the same time every day. Joel was distracted looking in the back of the store while Tess was in a stock room. You watched as Ellie happily packed a few feminine products before you realized the very next aisle had a few things left that caught your eye. Quickly without anyone noticing you grabbed a box of pregnancy tests and some prenatal vitamins stuffing them into your bag just incase.

“I’m surprised there’s anything left in this place” Tess voice made you jump as you turned to find her behind you, her eyes darting between the few boxes of pregnancy tests left and you.

“What are you doing here?” She raised a brow. As if it was any of her business, but the second she saw you even eyeing a pregnancy test she couldn’t help herself. God she hoped it wasn’t what she thought it was.

“N-nothing, I- I just-“ she squinted her eyes, changing her worried expression when you looked up at her.

“Oh god…he’s knocked you up…Hasn’t he?”

“N-no, I don’t know..I-“

“Oh…I feel sorry for you” she chuckled.

“he’s gonna hate you for this”

“What?” You whispered confused.

“You think he wants to have any more kids?” She laughed as you stood silent. More?

“Oh I’m sorry, that’s right…you don’t know certain things about him..” you could hear the taunting in her voice.

“What certain things?” You whispered.

“He never told you about Sarah, did he?” she seemed to get a kick out of this.

“Sarah?” Your chest felt as if it was caving in.

“No” you looked away in shock.

“He doesn’t like to talk about it but she died years ago…when this all started and it….it changed him.” You swallowed uncomfortably.

“He isn’t gonna want this, sweetheart. This will only upset him. You’ll see a side of him that’ll make you want to run away. You’re better off not even telling him if you are and just…taking off” you pressed your lips together holding back tears. For the first time Tess made sense to you.

“We can stay here for the night” Joel called out from the back quickly distracting you from the conversation. Without saying a word you quickly walked away, you had no idea to where but anywhere away from Tess. Of course that was when you ran into Joel.

“Hey-hey, what’s goin’ on?”

Joel could tell you were upset, his hand caressing the side of your face.

“Nothing, I’m just looking for stuff” you lied, you couldn’t even look at him.

“Did somethin’ happen?”

“No!” You stubbornly lied taking a deep breath.

“Just let me look at what they have left” you composed yourself and looked up at him. He silently nodded and let you walk off before looking up at Tess down the next aisle. She didn’t notice him looking at her and caught her chuckling to herself before walking away.

Ellie sat beside you pulling out a sandwich from her bag that Marlene had packed. The smell instantly striking you making you quickly turn your face. Ellie hadn’t noticed, you quickly stood up and ran off to the back room as Joel looked at you strangely.

“Just let her be already” Tess spoke as Joel stayed staring at the door you had ran into.

“If I were you, I’d ignore her” Tess snacked on a cracker as Joel stood up.

“Well I ain’t you and she ain’t your problem, she’s mine” he uttered under his breath as he walked off to where you were.

Hiding in the back you heard footsteps coming close, you already knew it was Joel and quickly turned away.

“Y/n, what’s wrong?” He stopped a few feet away making sure to give you space.

“Nothing, I just-“ you squeezed your eyes shut with your hand over your mouth as another strong wave of nausea hit you.

“You alright?” You heard him begin to get closer and snapped.

“I’m fine!” You screamed without turning back to him.

“Just get the hell away, give me a damn minute!”

He stood silent for a moment feeling defeated, hopeless. How could he not know what the hell was wrong with you?

“Did I do somethin’ to upset cha?” His question creating a knot in your throat. He didn’t deserve to be spoken to this way, but you knew it was the only way he’d listen.

“Just go” you whispered.

Joel took a step back silently leaving the room leaving you to cry alone. Still you hadn’t taken a test but you knew, you knew you were pregnant.

Later that night while everyone slept you found a private space and finally took the test. Just as you thought two bright pink lines appeared. You cried in a panic, it was all real now. Hiding the test and the packaging where it couldn’t be found you wiped your tears and grabbed your backpack, you knew what had to be done.

Never did you think in a million years that you would be needing Tess’ help, yet here you were carefully waking her up out of her sleep.

“Tess” you whispered, she looked up at you confused.

“I need you to help me get out of here without Joel or Ellie waking up. Distract them as much as you can so I can get as far as I can” a rush of excitement went through Tess as she sat up.

“You’re leaving?”

“I have to” you whispered.

“You did the pregnancy test?” She asked with a raised brow.

“Yes, I just did” you pressed your lips together.

“Where do I tell him you went or why you left?”

“You don’t. You act like you never saw me leave, hell, I don’t even know where the hell I’m going. I just…I’m too afraid to tell him and I need to leave now.” Tess stood up straight as you struggled to hold your tears back.

“Take care of him for me ok?” You whispered through a trembling voice before turning away and as quietly as possible sneaking out of the store.

Tess for the first time in a while felt satisfied, her plan had worked. You were gone and Joel never knew you were pregnant but neither of you knew that as you spoke with Tess, Ellie lay awake listening to every word being said.

Afraid to say anything to Tess, Ellie lay quietly looking over at Joel. She didn’t know what Tess was doing but all she could hear was footsteps around her, she closed her eyes pretending to be asleep, she didn’t trust Tess.

Once she heard Tess finally walk into a room she quickly threw a rolled up paper at Joel and closed her eyes. At first he didn’t budge, making Ellie sigh and try once more, this time his eyes flung open. Squinting, she found him staring directly at her a few feet away before he began to look around and that’s when he realized you weren’t around.

Joel quickly stood up looking around the store just as Tess walked out of a back room with a surprised expression not expecting him to have woken up.

“Where is she?” He asked looking around as Tess hesitantly walked towards him.

“Um, I don’t know…I just woke up she must’ve snuck out-“

“Snuck out?” Joel turned to her with confusion as Ellie opened her eyes. Quietly she got up without saying a word to either of them, both of them distracted with what was going on Ellie wandered to the back.

Looking around for any possible evidence she needed, Ellie heard you say you had taken a test. Of course, there it was, an opened pregnancy test box stuffed between 2 bricks in the wall. God you were sneaky. Inside the box lay the positive test you had taken, Ellie quickly ran out to Joel who was in the middle of a heated conversation with Tess.

“Joel!” She ran to him as he looked down at her confused. Without saying a word she handed him the box, Tess’ eyes widened.

“Where the hell did you get that?” She whispered.

“The hell is this?” Joel looked inside the box.

“It was y/ns, I heard her say she took a test Joel” his brows furrowed as he pulled the test out of the box and read the positive results. His face turning pale as he realized what he was looking at before he snapped back to reality. His eyes darkened, looking straight up at Tess.

“The hell did you do?” He whispered coldly.

“I-I didn’t do anything, Joel, you barely knew her-“ Joel stepped forward with a deadly look in his eyes making Tess step back.

“The hell did you tell her?”

Tess stood silent and he knew right then and there…he knew she had told you about Sarah and scared you away.

“She needed to know about Sarah, Joel, she’s here thinking you two can actually have this-“

“That wasn’t your decision to make” Joel responded as he began to pack his back pack.

“Oh come on, Joel, you know damn well you don’t want that baby” he stopped moving, the silence so tense Ellie held her breath. Joel stood up and slowly walked towards Tess-

“If anything happens to her or my baby, I’ll find you.” Tess couldn’t believe how Joel was speaking to her. Speechless she watched as he walked out and called Ellie to follow.

He had no idea how or where he was going to find you but he knew his priorities were now only you and the baby and he was going to make sure he found you.

Joel’s tags

@moonpascal @katmoonz @picketniffler @stcrrjoon @itsamandi @starry-eyes-love @theoraekenslover @psychoenergy @joeldjarin @heartpatch @baronessvonglitter @guelyury @mynameistokyo @harriedandharassed @locaparapedrito @untamedheart81 @rosaliedepp @illyanam1011 @hopefulatrocity @tikikiki @thewritermj @l0veang3l @manuymesut @katiemarieeee @unknownomgg @secretcheesecakenacho @missladym1981 @xmaykeca @dendulinka6 @wintersquirrel @malfoycassimalfoy @scorpio-echo @orcasoul @mysteryhexgirl @locaparapedrito @alloftheimagines @mystickittytaco

@ashleyfilm @justajoelsreader @lonely-ey3s

@elliesr1fle @ro-nahime-things

@readingiskeepingmegoing

[cherrycheolkat]

Hi! I love your works! For the bingo list can I request monster with cheol? I loved the mingyu one a lot

Thank you! 🫶🏻

so demon!cheol is maybe a bit different, but i hope you like him - he needs his own long fic tbh

♡ kat

bingo squares: monster

pairing: choi seungcheol x f!reader

genres: monster!seungchoel, demon!seungcheol, magic au, fluff, dark themes (they can both exist)

summary: y/n is stuck with the most useless demon to exist until he suddenly makes himself very useful

word count: 2.9k

warnings: monster fucking, oral sex (f. receiving), fingering, penetrative sex, cum eating, monster dick, breeding kink if you squint, eggs (iykyk), implied impregnation

having your own demon was largely useless. at least if that demon was seungcheol. his most useful feature was running errands - like picking up milk and cat litter. 

but the rest of the time, he mainly spent lounging around your apartment, usually reading whatever books were around. in fact, your book collection seemed to have suspiciously grown of its own accord since you ‘inherited’ him from your grandmother. you weren’t sure where he was getting them from, since half of them were in an italian dialect that your phone couldn’t recognize, but there they were, taking up space, just like seungcheol. 

having never really met your family, it had been shocking to have a demon show up and knock on your door, to say the least. in fact, you treated him like you would treat any psycho off the street and slammed the door in his face and locked all the locks. 

except, surprise, he could basically walk through walls. which he did whenever it was least convenient, like when you were showering and he had some random deep thoughts to share about a news article (you canceled your new yorker subscription because of him). 

or when you were napping, and he wanted to play animal crossing. 

or when you were dead asleep and he wanted to play the cat restaurant game on your phone. 

he refused to have his own phone. because yours existed, and he only liked the cat game and sometimes wordle when he was “acutely bored.”

you often wondered if killing him had any consequences. especially since you had already tried breaking whatever it was that bound you together, but that apparently involved some ancient-level crap beyond burning sage, so you had given up. but would you be prosecuted for slaying a demonic creature, you wondered, but decided he would probably just show back up, no worse for wear.

not to mention, you had been in a fairly foul mood lately. very snappy with everyone - you scowled at a baby for fuck’s sake. so you decided you needed a little personal reset, and that meant getting the worst excuse for a demon ever, out of your hair, at least for an hour if you were lucky. 

your plan was simple - give him an insane amount of errands that required him to roughly hit up every borough of the city. you made a tediously long list of things you needed - you fully knew that besides refusing a cell phone, he refused to use his abilities (whatever those were) to get around the city, not to mention he said he found the subway “enlightening.”  you rolled your eyes, making detailed notes of exactly which market he needed to visit for which item. 

in all reality - if someone really questioned you, you would have to admit that, despite how obnoxious you often found seungcheol, he was insanely handsome and maybe intimidating - at least based on the way people literally moved out of his way on the sidewalk, which was perhaps his most impressive trait. 

but he was also persistently around you and with zero boundaries, which meant you couldn’t just invite someone over for a quick fuck. you needed some time to do it yourself, maybe even a few times. and then you would feel like mary-sunshine again. but you needed him out of the apartment! especially since he had been showing up in your dreams lately, which was really fucking with your mind. his handsome face invading your dreams had to end.

but even as you were making your insane list, you could feel him hovering around you. when you felt his chin rest on your shoulder, you wanted to elbow him in the stomach. 

“why do you want mixed olives from there? there are already olives here, and you hate those,” he commented, his husky voice way too close for comfort. 

“some recipe i found,” you mumbled. 

“but you can’t stand them,” he tried again.

you shrugged, and he only leaned closer, his arms gently encircling you as he read your jumbled handwriting. you were mostly used to this too. he had an infuriating way of getting very close, sometimes without you even noticing. you thought it was solely to annoy, but no, he genuinely didn’t seem to understand why you constantly tried to have space from him - and made up for it by crowding you even more when any opportunity presented itself. it was a losing battle. 

you had given up explaining to him how your bed was yours because he insisted on napping there after watching whatever daytime tv show he was suddenly obsessed with - and that was months ago. 

but today, he would be out of the apartment. you were making sure of that. no random appearances. just peace and quiet and you and your vibrator doing god’s work. 

you finished the list and turned, pressing it to his chest, “if you wouldn’t mind doing the one thing you do for me.”

he watched you for a moment like he was on the verge offering some pithy response, but he just sighed and took the list. and then proceeded to take ages to actually leave. you stood watching him fumble around for who knows what, tapping your foot impatiently because you hadn’t considered that even him leaving could be such a production. 

“stop glaring at me,” he called out, “i’m leaving, okay - to run all of your precious errands,” he was annoyed, but at least he was walking out the door. you ran behind him to lock it. 

and finally, you could get down to business. you practically ran to your room and dove under the covers. this was a timed thing - you couldn’t waste a second. 

you pulled up some very dubious porn, but whatever - it was for the greater good. you didn’t bother taking off your sleep shorts and underwear, just shoving your vibrator down your pants where you needed it most and proceeding as required - lube wasn’t a luxury you could afford in the race to have several uninterrupted orgasms. 

but no - no, no, no - you’re brain froze. you had felt the small shift next to you in bed. your eyes went wide, then squeezed shut as you tried to stop everything you set in motion. you were dreaming - this wasn’t real.

but no, it was real - because he spoke. “when you’re finished can i have your phone?” he whispered, he was lying on what you begrudgingly acknowledged was his side of the bed. 

how was it that this was the one time you wanted him out of the house, and he basically made everything appear from thin air all because he wanted to play the cat restaurant game. on your phone, which was in your bedroom. with you. playing the kind of porn you would rather die than confess to watching, while you were furiously trying to stimulate your clit. 

you froze completely - you were mortified, but also how was this your life, you wondered. 

he poked you cheek gently, “y/n? i need to check my tips jar - it maxes out at 40,00 little fish monies.”

“seungcheol, fuck off,” you whispered with every ounce of civility you could muster. 

“you’re almost finished - just like a minute or so and then i check my game,” he trailed off. 

you thought you might combust, turning to look at him, “I’LL BE FINISHED IN A MINUTE? no! and you know what? no more cat cafe!”

“cat restaurant, actually,” he corrected, smiling - dimples on full display. 

“i don’t fucking care! no more cat-based food games on my phone, i’m deleting them and your games account!”

“noooo,” he whined, as you navigated to the games hub - he was suddenly straddling you and fighting for your phone - he could pry it from your semi-warm dead hand as far as you were concerned. 

you wrestled back and forth until he finally had you trapped under him using what felt like more than his body weight.

“don’t you dare delete my account,” you were surprised to see his eyes were a glowing deep blue instead of their normal dark-coffee brown, “do you know how many ads i’ve sat through to expand my cat empire, y/n - i finally have the little spa area open,” he sounded so serious and simultaneously so ridiculous. 

you glared at him, trying to focus all your rage on him for ruining your afternoon of solo sex. 

he stared at you for a moment, swallowing hard - “look what if i help you with your endeavor, and then you won’t need to do anything permanent,” he offered, his eyes drifting towards your phone, which only made you tighten your grip on it.

“helping me with my problem would be you disappearing forever,” your voice was more acidic than you meant it to be. 

he immediately pouted, “look, it’s a genuine offer, okay - i do have experience,” he stared at you with big, round eyes that could unquestionably peer into your soul. 

you groaned dramatically and tried to pull out of his grip, which was completely useless. “what is it with you and the cat games?” you asked out of pure exasperation. you had already given up on an orgasm, having switched your vibrator off almost the instant you heard his voice. 

“you know, you sit down and watch happy little animals sit and eat and eat and sit - you just get to turn your brain off for a bit, it’s nice,” he shrugged, still watching you. 

you stared at him for a moment, finally sighing, “just get out, okay, let me change and you can have your game back,” you folded like a sad, wet paper bag. 

you closed your eyes, waiting for him to let go of you and leave. instead, you felt a small kiss on your cheek. your eyes snapped open to find him still leaning over you. 

“let me help,” he said, voice gentle, his hands squeezing your wrists softly. 

you wanted to smack him - him and his stupid cute face. why couldn’t he just actually go to the stores like you had asked, you wondered to yourself.

he rolled his eyes, leaning down to whisper, “because i know when you’re up to something,” his lips brushed your skin. 

it was genuinely trying on your mental faculties that he knew what you were thinking. literally, every thought. it was why he never even asked for the passcode for your phone. and why he regularly answered questions you never verbalized. 

“so then you could have just let me have time to myself,” you pouted. 

“mmmh, but i can be so much more helpful with this little project, instead of going to get the olives i know you don’t like from a store across town in the rain,” he whispered and nipped teasingly at your earlobe. 

you shivered from the contact. you tried to make your mind blank, not exactly wanting him to know how good it already felt to be under him - he already knew too much about you. and this would only serve as reasons for him to be clingier. 

“maybe i don’t want help,” you whispered, your anger growing at the intrusion. 

he nuzzled closer, “i don’t think that’s true since you keep drafting messages to the guy you met a few weeks ago,” he whispered, kissing your throat gently. 

you felt the gentle pressure of his teeth on your throat and whined softly - the feeling was indescribably good. he purred, knowing you liked it, as his lips teased lower. his tongue marking your throat and collarbones. he worked his hands under your shirt, leaning up enough to pull it over your head. the way he gazed down at you was unexpected - his normal apathy was gone. his hands went to your breasts, massaging them, his thumbs brushing over your already pebbled nipples - he was gentle, taking his time teasing you before he dipped his head down, his lips making contact with the sensitive skin of your tits. you felt his teeth graze your skin as he sucked one nipple and then the other. 

he finally leaned up, looking a bit disheveled, and licking his lips, “i want them full,” he murmured. you weren’t completely sure what he meant, but you didn’t really care either as he made his way down your body, leaving a trail of kisses and bites. he pulled off your sleep shorts and underwear and lifted your hips so he could easily work his tongue between your slick folds, finding your clit almost immediately. 

the way he sucked the bud between his lips was mind numbing - you couldn’t help reaching down to grab his hair roughly, wanting him to know what you were feeling in the moment. your whines and moans weren’t enough, he needed to feel you gripping his long hair and pulling it every time his tongue made the most perfect contact. and when he added his fingers, you entered another plane of existence, pulling his hair, arching off the bed and moaning his name in a way that should have been embarrassing. it was like you had never been properly touched by a man in your life, and you were finally learning what pleasure was. 

you came quickly - your cum rushing past his fingers, which he seemed to enjoy based on the way he licked into you, lapping at your opening. you could feel his tongue working impossibly deep inside you. you knew without asking that he wanted you to come again. 

his fingers worked your clit while his tongue was still exploring your sticky walls, and you felt it again, the sweetest pleasure flowing through every part of your body. he leaned up, licking his lips, giving your pussy a gentle smack. 

“feeling better?” he asked, almost sounding sincere. 

you sighed and nodded, “much better.” you didn’t move, but found yourself wondering if he was as god at fucking as he was at eating pussy. 

he grinned, his hands tracing over your hips and stomach, “is that what you want now - my cock stretching you open,” he glanced up, watching you for a second before glancing back down. 

you could feel the way his fingers were carefully prodding your stomach - it was almost like he was looking for something. 

“is your dick as good as i think?”

he nodded without looking up, “you won’t even know what to compare it to,” he grinned, voice smug. 

you didn’t say anything - you just watched him undress, noiticing how good he looked, and that, at least from your angle, his cock looked fairly average. but then he was between your legs again, kissing you, licking into you, “you have no idea how perfect you are,” he whispered, his fingers still working to prep you. 

you had thought it often enough, and you knew he knew, but you found yourself confessing how gorgeous you found him. he smiled, kissing you just as he began sliding his cock inside you, “let me make you full,” he whispered when he started to move. you nodded, not caring what he did because you knew how perfect it felt. 

you were sure you were even slicker than before as he began moving inside you, but even though you could feel how thick and long his cock was, you knew you were taking every inch of him without any pain. it didn’t matter how brutal his pace was either, you only felt the pleasure of him stretching you wider than you thought possible - going deeper than you knew was possible - you were sure you could feel his dick slamming into your stomach with every thrust. you wanted to feel how deep inside you he was, but he kept pinning your hands back against the mattress, thrusting harder.

“i’m exactly as deep as you think, pet,” he groaned, snapping his hips, “i can go even further if you want.”

you laughed softly, even as you heard the deep, shivering moan that came from him. you felt the odd sensation of something entering you - not his cock or fingers, something cool and almost heavy - you orgasmed, seeing bright lights flashing behind your eyelids as you felt the same sensation, something entering you - something smooth and round going deep inside and clinging to your inner walls. 

“you’re really doing it?” you managed to whisper. 

he moaned, “told you i want you full,” he whispered, voice ragged as you felt another object pumped into your cunt, “want to breed you full, pet - make you mine forever,” he whispered, finally pulling out. 

you stayed in his arms after, enjoying how safe you felt.

“i’ve never given them to anyone before,” he whispered, kissing your temple.

you fell asleep cradled against him, your cervix full of his precious eggs. 

a/n: i love writing cheol, especially cheol in magical aus because low key i had this idea and now i want to know way more about him

♡ kat

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[reidrum]

i need you to fill the void

a/n: it's my birthday so pls don't say damn when you see that this is angst

summary: in which spencer seeks another vice post tobias

cw: smut 18+ minors dni, not smut centered though, angst, mentions of addictions, poor coping habits for both spencer and reader, toxic!spencer, situationship, excessive em dash usage

wc: 2.1k

The frigid bite of the night greets you as you walk outside to your car. The cold is sobering, almost warning you as you trek into a journey the sky has seen many times. 

It had been three months since Spencer’s kidnapping, two months since you found out he was going to Narcotics Anonymous before the roundtables, and one month since you realized you were the only person who could help him.

Knowing he was struggling through his addiction on his own—though, you knew the team was fully aware and simply chose to not do anything about it—made you feel like shit. It wasn’t even your fault, you were back at the main cabin with Emily going over the case when you figured out the unsub was Tobias Hankel. Somehow you felt worse than JJ who was actually there with him, because you should’ve figured it out sooner. You saw the behavioral signs pointing to him. It was so obvious, wasn’t it? Maybe it was your fault.

At least, that’s what you continue to tell yourself night after night as you make the five minute drive to his apartment always nearing the witching hour. Spencer wouldn’t feel this hopeless if you had just been smarter, faster. But you weren’t, and now he was suffering. You didn’t know how to help him, how to make him feel better—if he was even capable of healing. So you offered him what you could, which was everything.

And he took what he needed—which was everything.

You raise your hand and softly knock on the door. Three times, never more, never less. Footsteps pad closer to the door on the other side before slowly opening revealing Spencer in his blue plaid pajamas and one of his many punny science t-shirts. Tonight’s was Never trust an atom, they make up everything!

The routine is easy to fall into, you take your shoes off while he removes your coat. You walk to the couch and he goes to the kitchen, preparing tea just the way you like it. When he returns, you’re already curled up in your usual spot on the couch and he slips in beside you like it was made for him. Like you didn’t spend so much time tearing it down and building it up hoping he’d find at least one of the versions to be familiar. 

“Had a good day?” he murmurs into your shoulder before claiming the spot with a kiss. Familiar.

You nod, “You?”

“It was bad after the roundtable this morning,” his lips traverse your collarbone, “better now, though.”

The warmth blooms in your chest at his little admission. Familiar. You know the warmth isn’t viable, but for the few moments of life in which it exists you will bask and let it consume you.

His hands have traveled around your waist tugging you closer to him with a confidence he’s slowly worked up to over the course of your encounters. It still surprises you when he initiates anything, the Spencer you had met on your first day at the BAU—joining only a week after him—could barely say two words to you let alone look you in the eyes.

The Spencer in front of you now lets his fingers play with the hem of your shirt with a slight hesitancy. They shake, but you know it’s not from the nerves. You don’t mention it.

“Couch or bedroom?” you coax gently.

“Bedroom.” He releases his hold on you and stands from the couch, holding a hand out for you. You take it and follow him down the hallway, the warmth inside you slowly fading as you get closer.

You’re barely through the bedroom door when Spencer tugs you back into his arms and kisses you voraciously, his hand cupping your face while the other presses you impossibly closer to him as he can. This is the part where the flip switches—when you both stop playing house and Spencer remembers what he needs you for.

His anxious hands turn greedy as they tug your shirt off and work on your pants, you pepper kisses along his jaw and turn your bodies to push him onto the bed. He stares up at you in anticipation as you unhook your bra and he hurriedly takes his pajamas off. It’s muscle memory from this point on, he scoots back to lean against the headboard as you crawl up and straddle him. 

You know what he needs to feel placated enough so the urges won’t overtake and drown him. He looks up at you like you’re the salvation he’s been waiting for, the vice that helps him walk away from his sin.

There is no salvation without sacrifice—but Spencer didn’t need to know that, he isn’t the one who will be sacrificed.

He positions your hips over his own and you slowly guide yourself down onto him, blissed out sighs leaving both of you as you take in all of him. You wait for a minute to adjust and then slowly lift your hips up and back down, a soft whimper falling from his lips.

Spencer doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to how it feels to have you wrapped around him. It’s intoxicating, dangerous, compulsive. He wonders how people can resist temptation when the gratification feels like this.

Your hips stutter and falter from their pattern, the muscle fatigue getting to you fast. “Sorry, just need a second.” you pant.

“S’okay, you want to switch?” He gently flips you over so you’re laid back on the bed before giving you the chance to answer. He doesn’t usually get on top, but recently Spencer has tasted the forbidden fruit that hangs low from your branches and found that it feels better than anything he’s ever taken with a needle.

The addiction has a power that compels him to use according to its agenda, and he really can’t remember the last time he’s felt in control of his own body. The addiction tells him when to use, and he listens.

But whenever he’s with you, he doesn’t have to fight any compulsion—you’re already offering it up for him to take.

He guides himself back inside you slowly, leaning down once he bottoms out to kiss your cheek tenderly. “Okay?” You nod and he pulls back, pushing your leg up to delve deeper. Spencer’s making sure he’s taking all that he can—he doesn’t know how long he’ll last before the urges come back for him.

His hips set a comfortable pace, fueled by the whines that tumble from your lips. He can’t get enough of you, he’d put the drugs down forever if he could feel like for the rest of his life. You both chase your highs and come undone at the same time, the praises falling out of him like they belong to you. Spencer pulls out and lays beside you while both of your breathing evens out. He doesn’t leave right away–he is a gentleman, after all–so he’ll get up after a few minutes and grab a wet cloth to gently clean you up, slip into the blankets again and hold you close yet so far away.

You’ll make yet another effort to reach out and connect with him in a way much more intimate than you think either of you deserve.

“I like what we have right now, it’s just not what I’m looking for.”

“I’m not in a good place, it wouldn’t be good for either of us.”

And the worst one, “I care about you too much to do that to you.”

It continues like this for months. A call in the dead of the night and you come running at the ring of the bell. Under the guise of being a good friend and completely disregarding any other harbored feelings you hold, failed attempts at building something more. You know you have to do this. You were not fast enough before, and so you must give everything you have now. 

Spencer grows comfortable in the next months, complacent and sure that whenever the urges come for him you’ll drop everything. Every encounter after chips away at you, but it makes him stronger so it must be worth it. 

Some nights are harder than others, the withdrawal eating away at him faster than you can feed it. You’ve rarely seen him be mean before, always too timid to speak out of line. But the symptoms have reduced him to primal desire and suddenly he’s demanding and pervasive.

“You’re late.”

“You said you’d be here an hour ago, what was more important than this?”

“I needed you, where were you?”

“Should’ve gotten here sooner, don’t know what I would have done if you didn’t.”

It’s nice to be relied on, it gives you a sense of purpose. He’ll be mean for a bit while he lets the addiction withdrawal displace him momentarily, but regains his bearings the second you walk through his front door. Over time, the shaking is starting to subside, the irritability slowly fading. The warmth in your chest returns thinking about the little moments between the sheets when he hushes your mistaken cries for pleasure with gratitude for your service. “Thank you, baby.” and “You’re so good to me.” falsely secure you as you continue to give what’s left of you.

You suppose you can’t exactly be upset or even surprised that he saw you as nothing more than a warm body in his bed. If you were the entity keeping Spencer tethered to this realm then you’ve strengthened him enough to stand on his own two feet. 

That should be a good thing.

When you’re in the bullpen the week after it shouldn’t surprise you when Derek claps his shoulder with a resounding “My man” as he turns his blushed face to the floor. Before the blush can rise on your face at the prospect of someone discovering your rendezvous, Derek continues with, “It’s about time you asked her out.”

Spencer never asked you out.

“You finally asked out Austin?” JJ chirps. Austin, bartender, Waco case.

But you built him up yourself, you should be proud of your handiwork.

“She just moved up here and needed someone to show her around. That’s all it is.” Spencer flushes, a clear sign that it is in fact not all it is.

Emily remarks how he looks happier than he has in weeks, Penelope squeals in excitement, Hotch and Rossi even look down from the landing in subtle interest.

The warmth inside returns again with an edge this time, a burning sensation that reveals you held it too close to your heart. Familiar. It takes everything in you to school your face and hold your tears in as you faintly whisper, “I’m happy for you, Spence.”

Because you are happy–this is what you wanted for him, to feel normal again. If he achieved it without you then who are you to blame him for? You served your purpose, and now you can rest.

Right?

–

Spencer doesn’t call you for three weeks.

You try not to think about it when he comes in late the next day with his tie askew and hair in a tousled mess. It doesn’t bother you when he finally accepts the O’Keefe’s invite and shows up with her. You have to consciously unclench your heart when his laugh sounds loud and genuine throughout the jet–but that’s nothing you haven’t done before for him.

When your phone rings again in the witching hour for the first time in weeks, it catches you off guard. You roll over grabbing the phone and answering it without even looking at the caller. 

“Hello?”

Silence, then shallow and labored breathing. You look down at your phone, sitting up fully when you read the ID, “Spence? What’s wrong?”

He gulps, “I…I almost…”

Your heart drops, “Are you okay?”

“Y–Yeah, think so. I didn’t..But..” he stutters, “Fuck, do you think you could–” he trails.

The tears spring to your eyes before you can help it, barely shutting them in time before they break down your face. Familiar.

“Be there in five.” you say evenly before hanging up.

The frigid bite of the night greets you in a mocking taunt as it watches you trek to your car. Three knocks. He greets you with red rimmed eyes at the door, clad in a Schrodinger's cat walks into a bar…t-shirt. The routine is easy to fall into–shoes and coat off, cup of tea before putting the TV on. You hope he accepts this version of you this time.

Inhale. Exhale. “Bedroom?”

[thepossummoldypasta]

ok, ok hear me out on this one.

The party is holed up in the hospital, Vecna is dead, Eddie isn’t, and the “earthquake” has absolutely devastated the town.

Steve ended up being a little more hurt than he let on and nobody really realized until one of the nurses threatened to tie him to his bed. The only reason Steve even agrees to stay in his hospital room is because the kids pitch a fit about it, and it’s the same room a comatose Eddie Munson is laying in just one bed over.

The first few days are rough, and Steve’s starting to get really antsy. Luckily another nurse sees what’s going on (and hospital staff are stretched thinner than paper) and goes “You’re an omega right? Do you think you can help me out with something?” And Steve—desperate for something productive to do—agrees.

So the nurse—a short , sweet, and badass alpha woman who calls herself Jack—helps Steve into a wheelchair and steers him over to the NICU. Jack brings over the tiniest baby boy Steve has ever seen and explains how he was born prematurely thanks to the earthquakes and his Mama didn’t make it through delivery.

“He needs round the clock care, but it’s no longer necessary to keep him here,” Jack says “And because there are a lot of babies that are worse off, we can’t keep ‘em in this unit unless it’s absolutely necessary.” She seems really unhappy about the situation and Steve knows it’s something that would never happen if things weren’t so bad.

“What’s going to happen to him?” He can’t help but ask.

“That’s where I’m hoping you come in.” The alpha’s chirps “Normally when things are this rough we would place him with a foster but all the roads are closed and Hawkins is cut off from everything. I was hoping that since you’re itching for a job you could look after him?”

Steve tears his eyes away from the baby (how long had he just been staring at him?) and he looks at Jack.

“What’s his name?” It’s not a confirmation, not yet, but it’s enough for Jack to chuff and hand Steve the baby.

“Legally? Nothing, and we can’t technically name him until he can be claimed by the state, but you can call him whatever you want. Doubt he’ll have any complaints.” She chuckles, leaning against a wall. It strikes Steve then that despite how young she looks, she also looks equally exhausted. This is probably the closest the alpha has gotten to a break since the actual earthquake.

“Okay” Steve says, it’s a he can say, and really it’s all he needed to.

Three days later Eddie wakes up, looks to his left, and immediately sees Steve god damned Harrington sitting at his bedside holding a newborn baby.

“Oh fuck…” Eddie says, not exactly eloquent but in his defense he just woke up from a coma feeling like he was mentally and physically hit full force with a semi truck.

And Dustin, because he’s a little shit who’s been presented with a golden opportunity to mess with his friends, cries out “Eddie! Thank god you’re awake. You’ve been in a coma for nine months!”

[boringtimesappreciator]

Do you really think a woman would say all this? I know they have real women in Australia. You can't even try to imitate them?

Anyone could tell you were molested. Just look at the things you believe and say; the kind of things you can only believe if you've been butt raped at a vulnerable age.

As far as trannies go, your minstrel show for women is among the worse I've ever had to suffer.

Literally the only reason your country half caters to autogynophilia the way it does is because the Americans subsidize your national defense and military. The moment that money disappears, the institutional pandering will vanish. That moment is approaching. Are you prepared to support this fetish all on your own, Crocodile Dundee in drag? You think your commanding officer is going to call you a woman when you're a conscript that is all that stands between Chinese "liberation" and your country? I've spoken with Australian military veterans. They'll turn you into hamburger meat during Basic, no doubt LOL

[finelinevogue]

Heyyy! I adore your writing, it's so soft and ahhh just obsessed, I can never get enough! Could I request something with shy!reader (maybe non-bau) and Emily where they had a meet cute and are maybe on their first date? xx

meet cute

OMG AN EMILY REQUEST YEASSS!! hopefully this is sort of what you wanted…?!? 💛💛

pairing - emily prentiss x reader

word count - 2.1k

Why did no one talk about the horrendous anxiety that came with first dates?

Your heart felt like it was beating so hard that it might as well be trying to escape your chest and the rest of your body was so shaky.

Normally when you were anxious you could never really pinpoint why, but this was different. The root of your anxiety was so easy to pinpoint and it was because you were going on a date with the prettiest girl you had ever seen.

Emily Prentiss had come into your life like a page out of a meet-cute novel.

She had mistakenly taken your coffee order for hers, even though it said your name on the side of the cup not hers. As shy as you were, you had not been ready to give up your morning coffee. Turns out confronting someone for taking your coffee can lead to exchanging phone numbers. Then phone numbers can lead to arranging a date.

And that date was today.

<.><.><.>

“Why are you in such a rush?” Morgan asked as he watched Emily clear her desk and pack her bag.

Normally Emily was here well past everyone else. Well… Maybe not Hotch, but definitely later than anyone else on the team.

Tonight was different though.

It was already 5PM and she was stressing that she hadn’t left herself enough time to get ready.

“There’s somewhere I need to be.” Emily answered.

Morgan chuckled because he should have anticipated a cryptic answer from his partner.

“Oh yeah? Where?” Morgan crossed his arms.

Spencer popped up from his desk, “I think I know.”

“Go on then pretty boy.” Morgan said.

“Emily rarely leaves work before 7PM, except today she’s been watching the clock countdown the seconds until she can legally leave work at 5PM. That tells us she has somewhere really important to be. Considering there’s no immediate family involved and we haven’t been invited I would suggest that Emily has a date.”

Emily scoffed, both annoyed and impressed that Spencer had managed to deduce all of that.

“Combine that current look she’s giving us with your theory Reid, I’d say you were right.” Morgan smiled and leaned forwards in his chair. “So…?”

Emily raised her eyebrows at Morgan, silently challenging him.

She didn’t deny anything though. Mainly because she knew she had been caught and there was absolutely no point in lying to a duo of profilers. However, that didn’t mean she needed to divulge in the details of her night.

“You two need to get a life and stop spying in on mine.” Emily said.

“You know that’s not gonna happen.” Morgan argued back, Spencer giving an understanding nod of agreement.

“Worth a shot.” Emily shrugged and left it at that. Not only was she eager to get away from this conversation, but she was also really determined to not screw this date up and so that meant leaving now.

“Details tomorrow, Prentiss.” Morgan shouted as Emily left the room.

<.><.><.>

The nerves had gotten ten times worse.

You had felt confident leaving the house, but now you felt somehow both underdressed and overdressed. You felt like you weren’t really meant to be meeting up with Emily this evening, like this wasn’t something that happened to you.

Maybe you’d made a mistake? Maybe this had all been a dream? Or maybe she thought she had been messaging someone else this whole time?

At least you were meeting in a neutral location, so if anything did go wrong then you could both leave and return to your own homes.

You let your shaky hands reach for your phone to check your messages again.

1 hour ago - From Emily Prentiss:

Looking forward to seeing you tonight : )

30 minutes ago - To Emily Prentiss:

Me too xx

25 minutes ago - To Emily Prentiss:

I am at the restaurant now xx

10 minutes ago - To Emily Prentiss:

It was ‘The Olive Bistro’ that we were meeting at right? x

2 minutes ago - To Emily Prentiss:

Just checking you’re okay?

Then your phone started vibrating and you could see that Emily was calling you.

You took a deep breath before answering.

“It’s okay!” You blurted out before she could say anything.

“Y/N?” Emily answered, her breathing sounding laboured.

“Yes, it’s me.”

“Sorry, it just sounded like you said ‘It’s okay’.”

“No - I-I mean yes. Yes, sorry, it is okay.”

“What’s okay?”

“I’m assuming you’re calling to cancel?” You questioned.

“Not at all. Why would— Will you please stop walking so slow!”

Who was she yelling at?

“Sorry?”

“Y/N, I swear… Wait, have you been standing outside the restaurant this entire time?”

Emily’s question made you stand alert. Surely the only way she would know that is if she could see you right now.

“How do you…” You said, before being cut off by watching Emily walk really fast paced down the street towards you.

Emily must have hung up the phone so you did too, putting it into your coat pocket. Your attention was solely on her now and you didn’t want any distractions.

And gosh was she beautiful.

Emily was wearing dark boot-cut jeans, a high-neck black jumper and black boots. Her hair was styled perfectly around her face and her makeup looked the same as it had the other day.

You suddenly felt very okay about what you’d chosen to wear; similar jeans, also boots but a white shirt instead.

Your hands got more and more shaky as she approached.

“I’m so sorry.” She said as she stood a few feet in front of you. “You must be freezing.”

“I’m okay.” You gave her a nervous smile.

“I swear I’m not normally like this. I even left work early to avoid being late, but Sergio would not let me leave and then the car park… What?” Emily smiled when she saw the look you were giving her.

You shrugged your shoulders, “You still came here, even after a long day at work plus cat troubles?”

“Yes. Of course.” Emily looked wounded that you’d ever consider anything else.

“That’s kind of… romantic.”

Emily stepped closer to you and held out her hand for you to take. Your hand stopped shaking as soon as you held hers. She grounded you and reminded you that you were completely safe with her.

“No, it’s just basic human etiquette.”

“Not to me.” There was a hint of sadness to your tone, which Emily quickly picked up on and wiped away with the softest kiss to your cheek.

“Shall we?”

<.><.><.>

You hadn’t laughed like this in ages. The kind of laughing that left your belly stitch and your jaw ache. The kind of laughing that came from getting along with someone really well, which was interesting considering you’d only known Emily for a couple of weeks.

Dinner had gone really well.

You remembered to go for something that wouldn’t slop everywhere and drink something you knew was safe. Pesto pasta and a limoncello spritz. You had unintentionally impressed Emily with your choices too, which you were counting as a small win.

“Well I’m glad he’s okay.” You laughed.

“Him? Honey, it was me who was under attack.” Emily feigned shock.

“Yes, but he’s a cat. He doesn’t know any better.”

“Wow. Cannot believe you’re taking Sergio’s side over mine.”

You would have fallen for her pouty lips and her sad face if it wasn’t for her hand that held yours across the table. She had reached for your hand after dinner and hadn’t let go since.

It was really nice.

That sounds silly to say that holding a pretty woman’s hand was ‘nice’, but that was the truth. This was new to you and so you were taking everything in moment by moment.

“I’m sorry. How can I make it up to you?” You asked.

“Oh I don’t know.”

“How about…”

“A kiss? You’re so right.” Emily jumped in before you could.

You blushed. She made you so nervous it was ridiculous. “I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.” Emily squeezed your hand.

“Okay.” You said, unsure.

You looked around the busy restaurant and thought about how uncomfortable this room would make you as you tried to have your first kiss.

Emily must have noticed though, because she squeezed your hand again to direct your attention back to her.

“I’m not kissing you here.”

“No?”

“No. It’s not the end of the night yet.” She smiled and your whole body relaxed. You actually felt your body return to the moment with Emily, knowing you could peacefully admire her under the warm restaurant glow for a little longer.

<.><.><.>

The end of the night came quickly.

You stood at your front door and Emily was there with you. She insisted that she came home with you, knowing exactly what kind of creeps are out there late at night.

The night had been so perfect and you could feel yourself becoming slowlh more comfortable with her. She laughed at your jokes, which told you you weren’t making a fool of yourself, and she listened to everything you had to say, which made you feel important. Emily had made you feel special all night.

“I had a good time tonight.” You said, picking out your keys from your coat pocket.

“Me too.” Emily smiled.

“Are we going to see each other again?”

“I hope so. If it wasn’t clear from sharing a lemon dessert with you when I actually hate lemons, then I really like you and I’d love to go on a date with you again.”

“Emily…” You pouted sadly.

“What? Are you upset about the dessert?”

“Yes!” You exclaimed.

“It’s okay.”

“No it’s not, because now when I kiss you all I’m going to think about is how I probably still taste of lemons and you’re going to hate every moment of it.” You frowned.

If you didn’t get your kiss off Emily then it wasn’t literally the end of the world, but it sure would feel like it.

“I don’t mind.”

“But…”

“Y/N, love, I don’t mind.” Emily cut you off firmly. “Okay?”

She took a step towards you, closing the distance, and cupped a hand over your cheek. She hesitantly guided your lips towards hers, ghosting over them to give you the chance to pull away if you wanted.

You closed your eyes as she got close and allowed your other senses to take over.

When Emily kissed you it felt weird.

You’d heard so often you would feel butterflies or fireworks, but in reality it wasn’t anything like that. It just felt natural, like you’d been doing this forever.

You felt right together.

She tasted of lemons so no doubt you did too, but that didn’t stop either of you from kissing each other. She felt so warm against you and you moaned a little in delight at the feeling.

When she pulled away you whined - like, actually whined - from the loss of contact. You watched Emily laugh as you opened your eyes again.

“We have time.” She said softly.

“Yeah, but… we have time now.” You said, trying to initiate another kiss.

“Where’s Little Miss Shy gone from earlier, huh?” She teased.

“You’re mean.”

“And you’re impatient.”

“This is unfair.”

“But it’s the end of the night.”

“Does it have to be?” You whined, probably sounding a lot more desperate than you were hearing.

“Yes,” Emily laughed, pinching your cheek, “C’mon.”

Emily walked you right in front of your door and motioned for you to open it with your key.

You had this intrusive thought that you could just kidnap her and keep her inside your house all night, just to spend more time with her but even that seemed a bit far-fetched.

Right?

You opened the door and stepped inside, leaving Emily standing on your doorstep.

“I can’t believe you’re leaving me.” You said.

The way you were acting all clingy would no doubt cause you to have an anxiety attack as soon as you shut the door, because you had only been on one date and were already acting like you loved her.

No doubt it wouldn’t be hard or long before you did love her, but after one date seemed a little unreasonable.

Emily might even be thinking that you were coming on a bit too strong and this could be it…

“For today.”

“So unfair.” You muttered to yourself.

“Y/N.” Emily said, causing you to look at her seriously.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you, for tonight.”

“Of course. I enjoyed spending time with you. Just don’t make me wait too long before the next one.”

[nerdycheol]

Crossing The Line || K.M.G

Pairing: Kim Mingyu x Reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff? ,Friends-to-Lovers, Confession

Word Count: ~1000

Warnings: Strong language, emotional tension

You never thought you’d be standing here, feeling this much rage toward the one person you loved most.

But here you were.

Mingyu stood in front of you, looking unfairly beautiful in the dim glow of the streetlights, his brows furrowed in confusion. You had just poured your heart out, raw and vulnerable, and all he had to say was—

"You’re my friend."

The words hit you like a slap.

You blinked. Once. Twice. Just to make sure you heard him right.

Then you laughed, sharp and humorless, your chest tightening as anger and heartbreak crashed into you at the same time.

"I don’t want to be your fucking friend, Mingyu." Your voice shook, but not with uncertainty. "I love you."

His lips parted, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. "What?"

"I love you," you repeated, harsher this time, because if he was going to break your heart, you wanted him to at least hear it loud and clear. "I’ve loved you for years, and it’s fucking exhausting pretending I don’t."

Silence stretched between you, thick and suffocating.

Mingyu ran a hand through his hair, exhaling slowly. "I—"

"Don’t," you cut him off, voice dangerously close to breaking. "Don’t tell me you didn’t know. Because if you really didn’t, then you’re the biggest fucking idiot I’ve ever met."

He opened his mouth, then closed it again, like he was struggling to find the right words. But what could he say?

Every possibility was worse than the last.

That he noticed but ignored it?

That he didn’t feel the same way?

That he was just too much of a coward to acknowledge it?

"You look at me like I’m your favorite person," you continued, stepping closer, your pulse hammering in your ears. "You hold me like you don’t want to let go. You show up for me like I’m the most important thing in your life. And yet, you have the audacity to call me your friend?"

Mingyu inhaled sharply, but he didn’t back away.

"Tell me," you pressed, your hands balling into fists at your sides. "Do you kiss all your friends on the forehead when they’re sad? Do you hold them just a little too long? Do you get jealous when they talk about other people?"

His jaw tightened.

"You don’t," you answered for him. "Because this isn’t just friendship, Mingyu. It never was."

Still, he said nothing.

And that silence broke you more than any rejection ever could.

You sucked in a shaky breath, forcing yourself to take a step back. "You know what? Forget it. I don’t need an answer."

"(Y/N)..." His voice was barely a whisper.

"No," you snapped, your vision blurring. "I’m done. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t keep being the one who waits while you figure out your fucking feelings."

Mingyu reached for you instinctively, his fingers grazing your wrist, but you yanked your arm away.

And then you turned around and walked away.

You didn’t expect him to stop you.

You didn’t expect him to chase after you.

But he did.

His hand grabbed yours, spinning you back around with enough force to make you stumble. Before you could protest, his mouth was on yours, stealing the breath right out of your lungs.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t hesitant. It was desperate, messy, fueled by frustration and something deeper—something you had been aching for all this time.

Mingyu kissed you like he was drowning, like he had been holding back just as much as you had. His fingers tangled in your hair, his other hand gripping your waist like he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go.

You hated how easily you melted into him.

When he finally pulled away, his forehead pressed against yours, he was breathless.

"You’re not just my friend," he murmured. "You never were."

"Then why—" Your voice cracked, and he shook his head.

"Because I was scared," he admitted. "I didn’t want to lose you. I didn’t want to fuck this up. But I should’ve known... I should’ve known that losing you like this would be worse."

Your chest ached, but this time, it wasn’t from heartbreak. It was from hope.

"You better not be bullshitting me right now, Kim Mingyu."

A small, shaky laugh escaped him. "I’m not."

You searched his eyes, looking for any trace of doubt. There was none.

So this time, when you kissed him, it wasn’t out of anger or desperation. It was a promise.

And Mingyu kissed you back like he had been waiting for this moment his entire life.

[losers-clvb]

it will come back // soldier boy

pairing: soldier boy x female!reader

summary: you unknowingly take in soldier boy after his escape from russia.

content: canon level violence, reader has a small savior complex, corruption kink but you could probably ignore it, maybe slight ooc soldier boy, yapper reader, age gap (reader is twenty-five), ben mentions wanting to bite reader multiple times, smut, unprotected piv sex, reader is into ben killing for her

word count: 3.8k

note: first time writing for soldier boy! it has been a year since i've watched the boys, but rewatching it now has made me want to write for it. inspired partly by "it will come back" by hozier, which is where the title comes from.

masterlist

----

The first interaction you had with Soldier Boy was risky. You knew it, but it didn’t stop you from following him into an alleyway. He had stumbled into the dark, cramped space with a pained look on his face. You, who was known to take in a various selection of strays, felt a pull toward the man. Perhaps it was your naivety to the world that prevented you from seeing the danger in the bearded man.

You opened your mouth to speak. The moment he heard the nearly silent intake of your breath, he had you slammed up against the brick of the nearby building, a hand wrapped around your neck. He was heaving out breaths, eye twitching while he surveyed his little follower.

Oxygen. You needed oxygen, but the tight grip on your throat was cutting off that precious supply. Ben looked into your eyes and he could smell your fear. It was washing over you, but there was something else there. Something that made him loosen his grip on you. You sucked in a breath, a whimper leaving your lips. He had let you breathe, yes, but you were still trapped between him and the building.

Ben had no qualms about killing, even if it was a harmless little thing like you. He had done far worse in the name of Vought. Yet when his eyes journeyed across your skin, falling to exposed patch of cleavage that seemed like it was on display with him in mind, something other than bloodlust crashed through him. You were the first innocent thing he had seen since before the Russians, before he had been frozen for what could have been an eternity.

“I’m sorry.” You managed to get out, not daring to even try to wiggle in his grasp. Your voice wavered slightly and you had the overwhelming thought that you were about to die. Past that, in some deep, dark pit inside of you, there was that savior complex, begging to be released, a motherly instinct of sorts. You wanted to help the vulnerable, and even with that crazed flash in his eyes, you knew Ben needed your help.

He didn’t speak. No. He only backed away from you, his eyes still trained on the sweet flush of your skin. It wasn’t until his back bumped into the opposite building that was only a few feet away that you made your own move. You should have run, should have taken the opportunity to escape this wolf of a man.

You took a hesitant step toward him. He flickered his gaze to your eyes and a sick, predatory need bubbled in him at the glimpse of care he caught in them. You didn’t run from him. You shuffled toward him, careful to not make any sudden movements. You didn’t want to spook your new-found project.

“I can help you.” You whispered, reaching out a hand to touch him. Ben imagined you saying it in a different way, purring the words into his ear while he was inside of you.

Your fingertips grazed the collar of the hoodie he had stolen in Russia. He flinched, only just slightly, even though he knew you wouldn’t be able to hurt him. It was instinct by now, the memory of the Russians digging tools into his skin overtaking him.

“Will you let me help you?” You asked when he didn’t speak. God, Ben could have just died at the purity of your care. He hadn’t felt a gentleness like this in so long, far before he had accepted the Compound V into his system. The women he had been with before, they wanted him for a variety of reasons; sex, pain, fame. You were different. He couldn’t imagine why, but your actions were spurred on by the overwhelming need to care for something.

Ben didn’t let himself relax into your touch. He may have been captivated by you, but he still felt the adrenaline of being pushed into this new world coursing through his veins. Your head snapped to the end of the alley when a siren sounded. It was only a police car, flying past in advancement of something else. When you looked back to Ben, a soft smile was shining across your face.

He wanted to ruin you.

You took his lack of fleeing as an opening to really touch him. You cupped a hand over his beard, the bushy hair soft under your touch. You wondered what had happened, who he was. You didn’t recognize him. You had heard of Soldier Boy in school, but it had been years since you saw a picture. Even if you had been able to conjure up some sort of comparison, this man in front of you was far from the American hero he had been before. He was scruffy, wild, and silent.

“Can you trust me?” You asked, your voice just a tiny bit louder this time. Ben caught your choice of words. Can you trust me instead of do you trust me. It pulled something out of him, made him finally speak for the first time since before the Russians turned him into a popsicle.

“Yes.”

The word was quiet and not much of an answer, but it felt like Heaven to you. You had gotten him to talk. A warmth spread through you at the gravelly tone of his voice. Your eyes twinkled at him. He almost regretted speaking, but then he remembered that you were fragile, breakable. If you did something to threaten him, he could kill you in a split second.

You wrapped your other hand around two of his fingers, figuring that was a better option than completely holding his hand. The palm of his hand was calloused, his skin rough in comparison to your buttery soft hold.

Ben let you guide him out of the alley and back onto the streets of New York City. Crowds bustled past. Most had their eyes on their cellphones but some gave the pair of you a strange look. You could imagine their confusion. You, with your hair tied back with a pretty pink bow, dragging along someone who looked like he had just crawled off a park bench. You could hardly care. The giddiness of having something to take care of made your feet move faster down the sidewalks.

The entire journey to your studio apartment was filled with Ben watching you. Your fear had dissipated long ago, replaced with excitement. He could smell your perfume now, an apple scent that reminded him of pie. Pie. He hadn’t had that in a while, he now realized.

“It’s not much.” You mumbled while unlocking the door. You almost sounded sheepish, something that only made Ben want to have a taste of you even more. You had invited a total stranger into your home yet you were still embarrassed of your small space.

You closed the door softly behind him, the click of the lock catching his attention. He whipped his head to you, alarm in his eyes despite the fact that he could tear the door off its hinges if he really wanted to. You shivered under his gaze, a blush creeping up your cheeks.

“There’s dangerous people out there.” You defended, your voice small. The irony of your words escaped you. Yes, there were dangerous people out there, but there was also one right in front of you. You pulled your jacket off and Ben was practically salivating at the curve of your collarbone. How easy would it be to just nibble at the skin that stretched there?

“Are you hungry? You look hungry.” You babbled out, the words spilling like water. You were nervous now, not because of his presence but more for the fear that he would run from you. You needed this, needed to take care of someone. This wasn’t the first time you offered aid to something, but it had never been a man like this.

Ben was silent. He didn’t want to talk again. He was intrigued by you. You were young, he knew. Twenty-five, at most. Much younger than him, much more innocent. He wondered if you knew who he was, knew what he could do with just his bare hands.

You took in a breath and nodded, padding over to the designated kitchen area. While you threw together a sandwich for him, he let his eyes wander around the space. A bed in the corner, picture frames lining the wall, and something that was flat and black hung on the wall. Huh. He didn’t know what that was.

He silently stepped over to your pictures, eyes scanning them. People who shared the same slope of your nose smiled back at him, along with a few that he assumed to be friends. He lingered on a picture of you in a cap and gown, a bright smile on your face while you held up a college degree.

“That’s my mom.” Your finger jabbed at a photo of you, slightly younger, and a woman hugging side by side. Ben squinted his eyes, trying to study the photo, commit it to memory. You offered a plate to him.

“Peanut butter and jelly. Raspberry, it’s my favorite.” You explained. Sure enough, there was the sandwich, cut into four perfect triangles. “Sandwiches always taste better cut like this.”

Ben didn’t know if it was true. He couldn’t quite remember anything other than the slop that the Russians had fed him. You sounded so confident in this information that he decided it didn’t matter, you had to be right.

It hit you then that you never introduced yourself. You looked up at Ben with wide eyes and blurted out your name. His eyebrow twitched up.

“That’s my name.” You clarified. You waited for him to respond with his own name, but ended up just staring at him in silence.

That was the start of something new. Something that was unexpected to you both. You gave him your usual bright smile before turning away to disappear into the bathroom, leaving him with his food.

----

You woke up to a grunt. A glance at the floor next to your bed told you it had come from Ben. You frowned and waited to see what would come next. Another grunt, and now he turned over violently. A nightmare, maybe?

You reached a hand down to nudge his shoulder. Big mistake. You had barely grazed his shirt when his eyes snapped open. He grabbed your wrist and yanked you to the ground. You yelped in pain when your head hit the floorboards. He was on top of you now, his knee digging into your stomach.

You were trembling beneath him. His eyes flared in panic and pure determination before he realized it was you, not an enemy. He eased his knee off, but still hovered above you. His long hair dangled down, the ends brushing your face. You let out a shaky breath and tried to ignore the bruising that was sure to be appearing on your wrists.

Ben wasn’t known to hold himself back before, and he hadn’t changed much in the years he had been away. He could hear your heartbeat pounding and he wanted to take a bite where it beat. So he did.

Faster than you could process, he knelt his head down to your chest. His teeth dragged across your breast, digging in enough to leave a mark. Instead of a cry of pain, a whimper of pleasure that you tried to stop tumbled out of you. Ben flicked his eyes to your face, looking at you through his eyelashes.

That was when he smelled it. It sank through the fear that you had felt prior. The sweet smell of your arousal drifted up to him, better than anything he had ever experienced. The years of living without this, without a woman’s body writhing under him, were catching up to him all at once. The drop of self control he had dried up and he moved without thinking.

“Oh,” you hummed out when he ripped your tank top clean down the middle, exposing your breasts to the air. Ben immediately attached his mouth to one of your nipples, swirling his tongue around it. You tried to move your hands to touch him, any part of him, but he made it a point to pin your wrists down above your head.

You moaned out when he nibbled on the nipple in his mouth. He moved to the neglected side, not wanting to leave any inch of you untouched. His other hand snaked down to pull your shorts down. He slipped a finger through your folds, gathering your arousal on it before bringing it to his mouth. God, you tasted just as good as he thought you would.

Ben pulled himself out of the sweatpants he wore. He was achingly hard. And big. You noticed that immediately. You weren’t sure if he would fit, but he had no doubt you would stretch around him nicely. He pushed himself into you, slowly. Inch by inch, he watched his cock disappear. He had forgotten how amazing it felt to be inside of a woman.

You groaned at the stretch. It stung a bit, but the pain was quickly replaced by intense pleasure. You were trying to pull your hands out of his grasp -- it was a fact that you loved to grasp onto your partners during sex -- but Ben held firm to your wrists. The fact that his hand could wrap around both of your wrists only made his thrusts feel that much better.

“Oh my God,” you moaned out. He grunted in response, driving his cock in and out of you.

“Ben,” he groaned. Somehow you knew that was his name with no further explanation. The fact that your brain had something to hold onto now made you squeeze around him.

“Ben,” you moaned out. He angled his hips up, pounding into you now. You threw your head back when his tip bumped against that perfect spot inside of you.

“Ben, Ben, Ben,” you kept repeating, the name coming out in breathless gasps. You couldn’t think anymore. Everything was him. He groaned into your chest, biting down on your breast again. You would be marked up by the end of this, but you didn’t mind.

You practically screamed out his name when you finally came. Thank God your only neighbor had been on vacation. A low hum echoed from your throat as Ben continued to chase his own high. Your eyes were shut, your body numb. You felt him twitch before filling you with his cum. He gave you a few more sloppy thrusts before collapsing next to you, slipping out of you with the action.

“Mhmm,” buzzed from you when you turned on your side. Ben had loosened his grip on you, allowing you the freedom to wrap an arm across his chest. He let you drape yourself over him, even if he didn’t exactly crave the aftercare. You were quick to fall back asleep, your breaths coming out shallow and even. You were naked, Ben fully clothed, but he still pulled the blanket around both of you. He followed you into sleep, ignoring the way your fingers gripped onto his shirt unconsciously.

----

You woke up alone. You were still on the floor, but the blankets were wrapped around you like someone had tucked you in. No. Not someone. Ben.

Now you had a name for the man, but he was gone. You pulled yourself up and walked to the bathroom, the blankets falling from your form. There wasn’t any sign of Ben. His bag that he had when you found him was gone. You assumed that meant he was gone too.

You quickly got yourself ready for the day, knowing you had work in just a few hours. You wondered if he would come back. He didn’t have anyone else, you assumed. Why would he be out on the streets if he had a home?

A shower helped to wash away the sweat and cum from the night before, but the most you could do for the bruises on your chest was a high collared shirt. You let your fingers ghost over the marks, tracing the outline of Ben’s teeth. If you focused enough, you could still feel the scratch of his beard on your breasts.

It was weird, you decided, that a person could just disappear like this. It was as if he didn’t even exist. The plate that had held his sandwich was cleaned and put away, his dirty clothes that he had changed out of gone from the corner they had been thrown into.

You thought you would have more time with him, more time to fix him, to take care of him. That was what the whole thing had been about. You wanted someone to care for, as you had done many times before. The difference between the stray dogs and him was glaring. The animals had never left you, not until you brought them to a shelter or a new family. Ben was gone, and you had no clue where he had gone.

You turned on your television while you readied yourself, letting the news station play. You weren’t focused on the words, because if you had, you would have seen an image of Ben, Soldier Boy, flash across the screen, informing everyone of his return to the world. No. By the time you looked back at the news, it had already moved on to a segment on an elementary school’s new parking lot.

You frowned to yourself and swiped up your bag. Your mind was still stuck on the last night, at the way Ben had made you come. You were so distracted that you hadn’t noticed the man that had been following you for a few blocks, not until he had wrapped a hand around your face. You gasped at the touch, his hand tight on your nose and mouth.

You couldn’t breathe. He dragged you into an alley, one that was identical to the one you had shared with Ben. You scratched at the man’s arms, trying to get him to let you go. Black spots crowded your vision and you were sure you would pass out when he finally threw you to the ground. You coughed and tears stung in your eyes.

“Where’s Soldier Boy?” The man grumbled out. You ignored him. How were you supposed to know? He was dead, wasn’t he?

“I’m fuckin’ talkin’ to you.” The man hissed and a boot came down on your hand. You cried out in pain. “Where is he?” You were about to answer, tell him you didn’t know, you were innocent, beg for your life, but before you could even look up, boots thumped on the concrete down the alley. You looked up, catching a blur of dark green through your tears. Your captor turned around to face this new guest, lifting the boot off of your hand in the process. You scrambled away.

“There you are.” The man mumbled, a grin in his voice. You wedged yourself in between a parked car and a building, hiding from whatever was now happening. You heard a few grunts before the car rocked with the impact of something thrown at it. Blood spattered on the wall above your head and you flinched, covering your mouth to keep yourself quiet.

You heard the crunch of dead leaves under footsteps. Your eyes tracked the noise, moving around the side of the car to the front of you. You didn’t dare to look up.

“Doll.”

The voice was oddly familiar, but only elicited a whimper of fear from you. Ben could smell it again, your pheromones drifting up to him. He let out a growl and lifted the car, pushing it to the side to expose you.

He walked toward you and it wasn’t until his boots were in front of you that you finally looked up. A look of recognition crossed your tear-streaked face. He was different than when you had last seen you, but still the same. He had cut his hair, shaved his beard, leaving a short covering of facial hair behind. His old hoodie and sweatpants had been replaced by a tailored green supersuit bearing the logo that had been printed across pages of your history book.

“Ben?” Your voice trembled out, cracking midway through. You recognized those green eyes that raked over your body. He gave you a smirk, reaching a hand out for you to take. “Why are you here?”

“I take care of my things.” Ben growled, hoisting you to your feet. You shivered at the emotion coursing through you. You were still shaky and your eyes drifted to the rest of the alley. Half a body lay on the top of the car. You gasped in shock and Ben pulled you into his chest. He didn’t mind the blood, but you, his innocent little fawn, shouldn’t be exposed to it all. You closed your eyes and sank into him, focusing on his fingers digging into your skin.

“You left.” You whimpered into the leather of his suit. It didn’t matter that this was impossible, that the man you had taken in was actually a supe from your mother’s time.

“I had to take care of something.” Ben’s voice was confident, cocky. You couldn’t believe that this was the same man from yesterday. You pulled away, looking up at him. He smirked down at you.

You brushed your thumb across his cheek, wiping away a spot of blood. It hit you then what he had done. He had killed a man, ripped him in half with his bare hands.

For you.

You smiled at him, cupping your hand around the back of his neck. You pulled him down to you and kissed him like your life depended on it. He tasted amazing, but it got even better when he bit down on your lip. You let him in and he pushed you up against the wall, pulling a moan from you.

Ben gathered your skirt to your waist and pulled down the pants of his suit to free himself. You moaned again, this time a little louder, when he pushed into you, filling you like he had the last night.

Maybe it was morbid, but the sight of your attacker’s body mixed with the knowledge that Ben had done it for you made you want it even more. So, Ben fucked you in the alley, surrounded by blood, and you grasped onto him, nails digging into his shoulders.