#like I'm not saying he was wrong to feel that way but it could definitely create a rift between george girls and the rest of the fandom

[pagesfromthevoid]

Tagging in here for the Bob discussion. But imagine after a few times together he gets the confidence to be on top but he is a complete service top (still whiny though)

You’re so right, anon. So very right (this got. Very away from me).

The first few times, he’s so awkward. He’s worried he’s not doing it right, or he’s bad at it. He’s so timid and awkward, and he waits for you to make the first move because he knows what he wants but he doesn’t know what you want. What if you don’t want him touching you there? Or what if he does something you don’t like but won’t say anything so you don’t upset him? So he lets you make the choices.

But after —let’s say, the fourth, fifth time (and a few shattered windows because, well, turns out he doesn't know how to control his powers just yet when he's worked up) —he realizes that…you want him just badly as he wants you. Actually, you might be even more desperate than he is, honestly. Because you’re the one being patient with him. You’re taking everything by his pace; stopping when he needs to stop. Only touching him when he’s made it clear he’s okay with it. While he’s the one “in control,” it’s not really control —you’re just you, and you’re willing to take it slow and take care of him over yourself instead.

And now all he wants is to give you everything.

You’re lounging in his bed one night, reading one of the books from the stack he got from the library. Bob isn’t in the room; he’s been with Bucky and Walker most of the evening, doing god knows what (jokes on you, he was getting a terrible pep talk from both of them on how to do this). Bucky was helpful; gave some relatively functional advice. However, Walker kept repeating to use the alphabet, which was…not great and even Bob knows that. They did make him put on a less baggy tee shirt; something about having confidence in his own appearance would translate into the room.

He missed his sweater.

You only look up when the door opens because there’s a shift in the air; not a bad shift. Just...different suddenly. You put the book aside as he walks in, hands behind his back. He looks a bit rigid; stiff, uncomfortable.

“Where’s your sweater?” You ask, though it’s hard to complain when you can see the veins in his arms properly.

You don’t mind the baggy clothes; he’s comfortable and you find that’s what is most attractive. But it would be a lie to say you’re not pleased to see the lean muscle that he has under this shirt. Outside of being intimate, it wasn't often that you got to see him exposed in any way —even if it was just a t-shirt instead of a sweater.

“Uh, Bucky and Walker took it,” he explains but that sounds bad so he explains further. “Training. We were training and they didn’t want me to train in it. It’s…weird, right? The shirt? I’m not used to wearing things that are so…I don’t know, tight?”

You just hum, tilting your head to the side as you look him over. He looks down some, feeling like he’s being ogled (well, he is. But he's still not used to you staring at him like this).

“I think you look good,” you offer, sitting up properly now. “Not that I don’t like what you usually wear —I like whatever makes you feel good. But I'm not going to pretend that I don't like being able to see more of you whenever I get the chance."

"You do?" He asks, and you can't help but laugh a little. "I'm not much to look at —,"

"Wrong," you quickly interrupt, slowly standing up. "There's a reason why I like to take off your clothes —I like taking my time because I don't get to see all of you often." You pause for a second, taking a moment to consider how much more you could tell him without making him uncomfortable. "It's something that only I get to see. I like to enjoy that."

Bob is staring you down, definitely short-circuiting because neither Bucky nor Walker advised him on how to handle anything you just said. How is it fair that you’re just so…good to him?

But then...he takes a step forward. You don't move; that shift in the air suddenly makes sense and you let Bob decide what he's going to do now. His hands clench into fists a few times, trying to coax himself forward.

You take just barely a step towards him —not even an inch. Something instinctual; something gravitational. Then his hands are on your hips, and his lips are on yours, and he’s pushing you towards the bed. It’s the first time he’s initiated a kiss without outright asking. You melt into the touch, sighing into his mouth as the back of your knees hit the edge of the mattress.

Sometimes you forget that Bob is incredibly powerful. He was, after all, created to be stronger than all of the Avengers combined. He doesn't particularly like using his abilities, but when his hands grip your thighs and lift you up, you gasp in surprise.

"I want to make you feel good," he practically breathes into your mouth, and even though he's the one leading, his voice comes out begging. "You always take care of me —let me do that for you."

You nod frantically, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him into another kiss, but he only let's you get a quick peck in before he's pulling away. You whine a bit, sitting up on your elbows to complain —but you can't find anything to complain about as Bob is slipping his shirt over his head.

It's not the first time you've seen him shirtless. But it's the first time he's taken his shirt off himself, without prompting. Usually he wants to wait until you ask, or you're the one playing with the hem of the shirt and trying to get it off. But the confidence in his movements is both amazing and distractingly attractive, and you're staring unabashedly with lust blown pupils and kiss swollen lips.

Your eyes trail over his skin —the freckles and scars that letter his collarbones, the flush that's spread from his throat down over his chest. Down to his abs and following the V that leads below the waist of his sweats —which are straining from the hard on that's hidden beneath.

"You're staring," he teases, and it's a shaking sort of tease —like he's unsure of if he should be speaking.

"You're hot," you confess, but it's not really a confession at this point.

You've told him he's hot before —he doesn't believe you usually. But the little grin on his face suggests that maybe today, he does.

"You're too good for me," he counters as his hands slide up your thighs and over your hips. Then he's leaning in closer, pressing his lips to your jaw and peppering kisses over your skin.

You buck slightly at the touch, chasing it, and he immediately gives in and slips his fingers beneath the waistband of your leggings. You suck in a breath, and he pauses, but you lift your hips in response, a silent plea to continue. He doesn't hesitate and pries your clothes off of you, tossing them to the floor, before settling between your legs on his knees. You move to take off your shirt but he stops you, one hand holding you down.

"Don't," he warns, puling away to look down at you. "Let me do this for you."

You watch him for a moment but nod, pulling your hands away from your shirt. Bob's hands are slow —not teasing, not purposely at least —dragging up your hips to your waist, pushing your shirt up as he goes. His fingers trail along your ribs, just grazing the edge of your bra. You briefly wonder if he'll try to take it off or if you'll need to do that yourself —but he settles on pulling your shirt over your head first.

Your skin is warm and soft against his fingers, and he's watching as your chest rises with each breath you take in anticipation. You're still sitting up on your elbows, waiting, watching, when he leans down and pulls you up against his chest. One hand is bracing your lower back as the other fumbles with the clasp of your bra.

Confidence doesn't matter when it comes to bras, because they're evil, he decides as he sighs in frustration. He almost caves into the embarrassment, worried he's ruined the moment. But you reach behind your back with ease and unclip it, and toss it away. He wants to complain, and you can see he does, but you wrap your arms around his neck again and pull him into a messy kiss.

It's all teeth and tongues, deepening each second his hands grip you tighter. Then he's laying you back down, dragging his lips from yours to your jaw. Then down your throat. One of his hands holds your hip, but the other is trembling as it approaches your breast and tentatively squeezes it. You hum in response, and his mouth is on your nipple now, grazing it with his teeth.

Between the biting, the sucking and the pinching, you're aching for more. But the sounds he's making —the moans when you sigh his name or tug at his hair —are almost as satisfying as an orgasm itself.

Though you certainly wouldn't refuse one or two of those.

Perhaps he can read your mind, or maybe he just knows what he wants —it doesn't really matter —because he gives your breasts one final squeeze and nip then trails his mouth down your stomach. The closer he gets to you, the more fidgety you become. You can feel his lips smile against your skin.

"It's okay," he promises, breath fanning over your thighs as he parts them slowly.

His fingers are trembling slightly, pressed into your thighs just enough to leave marks. Like he's scared that if he lets go, you're going to pull away from him. But he shakes those thoughts from his head, shifting down the bed until he's sitting on his knees on the floor. You're about to argue, to ask him what he's doing, but he wraps his arms around your thighs and yanks you down the bed until your legs are over his shoulders. You gasp, and his nose just barely presses above your wet core.

He groans, pressing his forehead into your thigh, fingers tightening around you. "God, you are...you're so wet."

"I told you," you sigh, running a hand through his hair, guiding him to look up at you through his lashes. "You're hot. This is hot. Everything you're doing is just...hot."

He melts into you, taking a moment to ground himself in your touch. "You have no idea how much you do for me," he admits, pressing his lips to the inside of your thigh softly. "But I'm...I'm going to try to show you."

"Oh, Bob, you don't —,"

But you cut yourself off with a gasp, fingers tightening in his hair as he buries his face in between your legs. Your hips move involuntarily, chasing his tongue as it swipes through your folds. He doesn't stop you, only presses his tongue flat against you before he sucks on your clit.

You suck in a breath, begging him to keep going. He nods as if he trying to respond, but he's groaning instead as he slips his tongue into you. Your thighs tighten around his head, hand guiding his head and mouth exactly where you need him to be. The hands holding your hips drift away, one disappearing entirely while the other glides just between your folds, one finger pressing into you slowly.

"Oh-oh," you sigh, involuntarily clenching around his one finger. "Oh, god, more —please —you're doing so good.."

He pulls his mouth away, just slightly, so he can see how you react as he slips a second finger inside you —curling up slightly. His eyes are glossy, face smeared in your juices, and you think this is the hottest thing you've seen in your entire life.

You cry out his name, back arching off the bed as you beg for him to go faster. He pulls out, just briefly, and you swear you hear him groan again. But you're too distracted by his fingers pressing up into you once again to notice any sounds that aren't the sounds of him finger-fucking you and him whining as he sucks on your clit.

You're so close —can feel it teetering on the edge when you manage to open your eyes just enough to watch him suck at your clit as he continues his rhythm. His other hand —the one that had disappeared —is in his lap and you understand his own whimpering now. While he's ruining you —burying his fingers so deep inside you, curling up and into that spongey spot that causes you to cry —he's jerking off at the whole experience.

And that tips you over the edge, pressing your heels into his shoulders as he furiously pumps his fingers in and out as you ride out your orgasm. You're crying out his name, begging him to stop because it's sensitive —fuck, your nerves are on fire —but he knows you don't actually want him to stop. It feels so good —the wave after wave of your orgasm washing over you before you hear him cry out himself, his body jerking against yours as he cums all over his hand.

You've collapsed on the bed, breathing heavy, and he's laying his forehead against your thigh. Both coming down from this, trying to catch your breaths.

When you've finally come to your senses —a solid five minutes later —you pull him up to lay beside you, pushing his hair out of his face. He's smiling at you lazily, hand laying against the base of your throat to feel your heartbeat.

"Have I told you recently how hot you are?" You ask, brushing your nose against his. You can smell yourself on his breath, and you're about to kiss him again when he says,

"I think I might start believing it soon."

---

Bob Taglist: @ilovemarvel12 @myrrh-dock

[yanyannica]

kuroo tetsurou is infuriating to work with as a fellow class representative.

it's not that he's dilly-dallying with his duties, per say. it's far from that. this charming, athletic classmate of yours took you by surprise by how efficient and responsible he actually turned out to be; always there to help, whenever and wherever you may need him be.

a few boxes need to lugged to the faculty? he's flexing his biceps and hauling them up before you could say anything. having an athlete as a class rep has its benefits, you suppose.

"oh, i got this. you can sit back, pretty."

some plans for the upcoming festival need to be drafted? he's there by your side, playing ping ping via suggestions and ideas like it's second nature. conversation with him comes surprisingly easy.

"we work well together, don't you think?"

ever encountered a grand miscalculation regarding class funds? he somehow finds the error within minutes, telling you which part of the table you did wrong. you tell him he'd make a good slave for capitalism and he laughs it off.

"what can i say? charming men like me dominate the economy."

it's kind of scary how capable he is — almost like he's eager to help you out, but it's fortunate that all your seething over his election was for naught.

though you still aren't quite sure what to feel about it.

because he's... well...

"we should totally go out. like, right now."

if you hadn't realize it by the few dialogues the op had laid out before you, then yeah — he's way too damn coy!

"no," your handwriting falters, and you're grateful he doesn't notice it. if he did, he's awfully quiet about it. "i'm busy."

your first name then slips from his lips with that honeyed tone you always find excruciating, and you automatically flinch.

"don't act cute." you know what i mean, is what his lidded eyes say, and you narrow your own at him before averting your gaze completely — just like how you blatantly avoided the double meaning of his words.

you purposefully ignore the rising heat in the room. or maybe it was just you, since kuroo looked as calm and dashing as ev — yeah, no. it was definitely the lack of ventilation in this stupid room. who the hell does he think he's calling cute anyway? you're losing braincells each minute you spend with this guy, you swear.

"last time i checked, we weren't on a first-name basis, kuroo."

he yelps when you pinch a patch of skin along his upper arm, making him pout at you like a child.

"now, now, don’t get too worked up! i was just playing around a little."

"take it somewhere that's not around me then," you huff, giving him a sidelong look. "you're distracting me."

"you know well i take that as a compliment. your words, not mine." wow, does he have selective hearing now? this asshole!

you heave a deep sigh, completely done with it all.

kuroo is one annoying hell of a guy. you should've known better that he wouldn't back down that easily.

you two aren't going to get any work done at this rate. why were you talking back to him, again? you always knew he did it to get under your nerves. you should know better than to respond.

you blink.

unless...

warily, you glance at the boy beside you who's lazily doing his own work. the lack of his usual diligence is surprising. he was quite lively just a second ago.

well, shit.

was it because you told him to knock it off? were you too harsh?

you're not sure what's running through kuroo's mind, frankly enough. why he acts like the way he does, why he talks to you the way he does... but one thing you're sure of is that he doesn't do anything without a reason.

and if that reason is what you suspect it is...

heat rises up the back of your neck as you glare at your own share of work. this guy is seriously a dumbass.

and you're guilty as one too, it seems.

"if we finish up early, i'll let you drag me around the rest of the day," you tap the back your pen into his side, "just today."

your mind drums with a gazillion thoughts as you watch him considerably brighten up at your words.

"that's good enough!" and he starts working like a madman.

you're glad he's out of his bleary mood. but...

you blink in surprise as he snatches your own paperworks, sliding them underneath his own, throwing you a sleazy wink.

what did you just get yourself into?

bonus:

"hey — ! that's my work, you idiot!"

kuroo doesn't look up from his desk, "nuh-uh, can't let my girlfriend do such tedious work on my watch."

"who the hell are you calling your girlfriend?!" you ask, utterly horrified. kuroo turns to look at you dumbly.

"eh? but aren't we technically going out on a date later? cause y'know... i asked and you agreed...? that's enough merit for you to be called my girl, no?"

"kuroo tetsurou! i will plummet you if you don't take back your words at this instant!"

you lied. you knew exactly what you were getting yourself into.

[lover-of-mine]

https://www.tumblr.com/lover-of-mine/783209719321051136/tim-said-we-werent-gonna-see-eddie-getting-the

I’ve actually been wondering this for days now.

Because we saw with the stills we were supposed to see Buck bringing groceries into the station. We were supposed to see Buck looking in the fridge at all the take out. There was supposed to be a talk between Gerard and Buck.

And then none of it made it into the episode.

And one of the biggest complaints over the last month has been them constantly focusing on the wrong scenes and the wrong characters in 14-16. Like the fact we knew more of how upset Gerard was over Bobby’s death than some of the main characters was insane. And then the absolute backlash (rightfully) over Eddie not being there and then the even greater backlash (also rightfully) when Tim said he thinks Eddie finds out from a phone call off screen, and we wouldn’t be seeing him find out onscreen either all also happened.

There was also a lot of rumors floating around of them doing extra filming/reshoots after 15/16. And the fandom has loved to throw around the words “damage control” with all the upcoming ryliver/buddie promo (which it’s not because they would have had to be set up a while ago) , the more logical realistic thing that would have actually been real damage control in any form, would be those extra filming/reshoots being true and it was to cut the Gerard Buck talk that literally no one wanted or needed, the bringing groceries and seeing the takeout boxes, and adding in us seeing Eddie get the call and his reaction instead.

But we will probably never actually know the real answer at this point on if it was always in the episode and Tim was just lying to no spoil it, or if it was actually true damage control because he was in fact not lying, but the back lash was justifiably bigger and harsher then he assumed and went oh shit and tried to mitigate it.

I mean, I guess. Because Oliver talked about Buck having professional decisions to make and since Hen ends up refusing the Captain's chair, I can't help but wonder if the things with Buck and Gerrard wasn't about Gerrard encouraging Buck to throw his name into the mix for captain in some twisted mentorship thread that picks back up from the beginning of the season and also directly contradicts a conversation Buck had with Bobby and could further Buck's spiral and the way he does feel like everything is falling apart and he doesn't know how to hold it together. Because they clearly cut an arc from Buck in the episode, the stills with Gerrard, the groceries, so maybe they decided they didn't need that in favor of more Character Moments, because we want more conversations and for the grief to be explored and less of the bigoted captain that suddenly isn't anymore because Brad is mean and he really likes hotshots.

Obviously, Tim could've been lying, but everyone was pissed there was no Eddie, why piss off his audience more? He could've just said it would be explored later. I'm sure they weren't expecting the level of backlash they got, but I don't see why he would purposefully feed into it.

And they did wrap the season on Tuesday, so 9 days before the season is set to end, so they were definitely cutting it close, it would be very easy for some of the stuff that they were shooting during the 2 weeks between 815 and 16 to be stuff to try and calm the audience down. So yeah, maybe. Even though those flashbacks did prove they could've added 5 seconds of Eddie getting the call to 815, but I'm guessing they don't want to say who called Eddie.

[queencvbra]

I am. So so scared about that they're doing with Tory this season lol.

[good-to-drive]

whyyyyy do the beatles have so many solo stans this site is so weird

[peachesandfictionalmen]

Best friends to lovers with Jason Todd is so swoon worthy.

Like getting close to this man that hardly trusts anyone? Jason is so friends to lovers coded it's crazy.

This bitch is the type to cook you meals while you sit on the counter, doesn't matter who's apartment your in.

Finding him curled up on your couch because he was distressed after patrol and when he got there you were already asleep. Him staying anyway because your smell comforts him? I'm fucking deceased.

Falling asleep casually draped over each other while watching a movie. Him massaging the leg you have draped over his lap because he needs something to do with his hands.

This man is so awkward when it comes to crushing too. Like sure he can be smooth with the ladies, but being around someone he's in love with? Please. I swear he'd go as far as practically acting like your boyfriend. He'd be bringing you your favorite snacks, taking you on bike rides, helping you clean your apartment, going out to eat with you, all the while trying to act like he doesn't blush when you smile at him, because there's no way you'd like him back, right?

He'd be so confused if you started trying to drop hints too, like oh, your just wearing his jacket because your cold. His favorite hoodie is definitely not at your place. You just like rubbing his shoulders because you know how tight his muscles get and feel bad for him, no other reason. You only keep his favorite tea at your place because it's convenient, right?

I think you could wave a sign at this man that says 'I LOVE YOU, PLEASE KISS ME' and he'd suddenly become illiterate.

There'd be so many awkward, blushing, almost severely intimate moments too. The cuddles and brushes in the kitchen, hanging on too tight when he takes a turn on his bike, him brushing the hair out of your face, him watching as you put on makeup or are focused on something.

One day, while he's cooking and your sitting on the counter talking, you just get fed up with dropping hints and when he turns and is standing next to your spot on the counter, you just grab him. You just grasp his cheek gently and pull him in for a kiss, he's so stunned he doesn't respond right away. You pull away, half panicking, thinking you actually read him wrong and he finally blinks, cupping your cheeks in his hands and pulling you in to kiss you for real because, finally.

[street-smarts00]

in omnia paratus

Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Summary: Spencer's been on the fence with his feelings for you. Due to his past traumas he’s decided to keep his feelings hidden. Until you’re caught in a dangerous situation at work

WC: 3.5 k

A/N: I am SO SORRY this took so long. I’ve been sitting on this for two months because I was being a perfectionist and had writer's block. Thank you so much to the person who requested this idea and I hope ya’ll like it! beta read by @whats-yesterday00

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Fluff, Protective!spencer, Friends to lovers, age gap (25 and idk 33 or 34), during season 9 (sadly no post prison Reid, I refuse to watch the show after Derek & Hotch leave), Maeve is implied 

Warnings!: mentions of murder, stalking, gunshot wounds, hostage situation and incorrect info about hostage situation cause Idk I'm not in the FBI

Everyone knew Spencer Reid had a soft spot for you. Well, everyone except for you. 

Since the moment you met you’ve been on his mind. 

“Do you know how old she is?” 

“No, how old is she?” 

“25!” Penelope squeaked before being shushed by Rossi. 

“Wow, she’s gotta be the youngest person to ever be in the BAU. Well, second to genius over here,” JJ commented while pointing to Reid. 

“That’s if she gets the job,” Morgan added. 

They were all crowded around the desks in front of Hotch’s office. The blinds were cracked and they could just barely make out the woman seated across from their boss for an interview. 

Due to the increase in caseload after Alex joined, Hotch made the request to add an additional member of the team. After interviewing a few people that didn’t pan out, he heard quite a bit about you from your supervisor saying how well you’ve done with the FBI and you’d be an exceptional fit for the team.

Then of course Penelope looked up everyone who was interviewing with Hotch. You being her most recent victim. 

“How long has she been with the FBI?” Alex questioned. 

“Three years,” Penelope answered 

“What? Did she join right after college?” 

“Not right away. She graduated early and got experience with law enforcement first.” 

Spencer sat at his desk quietly while everyone was peering into Hotch’s office. Not to say he wasn’t nosy as well. You were already behind the blinds when he arrived for work. 

“Oh they’re shaking hands! That has to be a good sign,” Penelope cheered. 

Morgan turned to the window, “It’s definitely not a bad one.” 

Her eyes widened before loudly whispering, “Oh no they’re leaving. Disperse.” 

She scurried off in her heels towards Derek’s desk while he followed behind with a grin. JJ, and Rossi averted their eyes from Hotch’s office and found Alex’s desk far more interesting. 

All while Spencer’s attention was brought to the woman led down the stairs by his boss. It felt like his heart stopped beating when he saw how beautiful you were. He was brought back to earth as Hotch introduced you to the rest of the team. 

“This is Dr. Spencer Reid,” he gestured to the man sitting at his desk. 

You offered him a small wave and a kind smile, “Nice to meet you.” 

It became quite obvious you two would get along very well. From very early on conversation flowed incredibly well between the two of you. There were very few people that he felt were easy to talk to because of his niche interests and the way he would ramble spitting facts left and right. 

But he never had to worry about saying the wrong thing or talking too much with you. You often were a content listener or you would even match his passion on certain subjects. Most were topics Spencer already knew about. 

When you first met Spencer you didn’t know the Dr in his name meant he held 3 PhD’s or that he was quite literally a genius. 

So you were often telling stories or facts you found interesting that he already knew. In fact, almost every “fun fact” you brought up, he knew about already.  

But he never interrupted you. He always was listening intently to what you had to say. Like he was hearing about it for the first time. 

At some point you learned of his eidetic memory and how vast his knowledge was. It was during a case where you found out and mentioned it to him. 

“Reid, remember when we were at the harbor and I mentioned that thing about sharks?” You hesitated, “did you know that already?”

“Yes,” he guiltily admitted. 

You partially deflated suddenly feeling that the whole tangent you went on was pointless. “Why did you let me go on and on if you already knew?” 

His eyes softened, “because I wanted to hear you talk about it.” 

That was when his feelings started to peek through. As the months went on it only grew and grew. And you were none the wiser.

To the average person, it might not seem like much. Perhaps you were just good friends. But to a team of profilers (and best friends) it was painfully obvious. 

It was almost painful the way he looked at you with a longing in his eyes. Or when his gaze immediately turned to you to catch your reaction or smile. 

It was obvious by the way he found any excuse to bring you up in conversation. Or how in conversation with you he would mirror your mannerisms and lean closer to you. 

As well as the things he remembered about you or the little things he did for you. Like the countless coffee cups he bought for you from his favorite coffee shop before work. And when he saw you struggling to find something or open something he was always right there to help. 

Spencer Reid had feelings for you. Feelings so deep that he couldn’t pull the roots out even if he tried. 

He didn’t know what to do with his feelings exactly. He hadn’t felt this strongly for someone since … well for a while. He was terrified of history repeating itself. 

He couldn't lose you. He’d seen first hand what this job did to him, what it did to Hotch. Their loved ones ripped away from them too soon.

So for now at least, he kept his feelings to himself. 

Well, until your last case. 

The BAU was called in on a case that just turned serial. They found the unsub to be a man named Mark, who started killing because his girlfriend cheated on him. The first two victims reminded him of the man she cheated with. When that didn’t satisfy him, he hunted down and killed the other man. 

Now the team and SWAT was stationed outside a bus that Mark was holding hostage. He stalked his ex-girlfriend and tracked down the new city bus she took. 

The officers couldn’t get a clear shot of him because of where he was standing and he kept using the passengers as shields. Rossi was currently on the phone with him trying to make negotiation terms and get some of the people off the bus. Mark however was incredibly stubborn and didn’t want to let his leverage go. 

So Rossi asked about the children on the bus and if Mark would be willing to let them off. They were met with silence on the other end of the phone, contrary to his previous behavior where he loved to hear himself talk. 

After a short pause the phone spoke. “I’ll only send out the kids if you send in an agent.” 

Rossi shifted his weight and crossed his arms. “Are there any other circumstances you’re willing to send out the children for?” he asked. 

“Nope,” he said with a pop at the end of the word. 

A look of concern was quickly exchanged between Rossi and Hotch. While their faces didn’t reveal much, their eyes spoke volumes. 

“How about this,” the unsub continued. “I’ll send out their moms too.” 

Rossi’s eyebrows furrowed slightly at the eagerness to comply from the criminal. “You’ll send out the children and their mothers if we send in one of our agents?” 

“I promise.” 

Rossi returned his eyes to Hotch who stood rigid and tall with his arms folded. He was met with an approving nod before returning to the call. 

“Alright, we can agree to those terms.” 

“Oh and agent Rossi?” Mark perked. 

“Yes?”

“Send in a girl.”

There was a tension that quietly branched out between the agents listening to the phone call. 

“Why do you want a woman?” Rossi asked, clearly changing the dialogue used.

“I’m losing too many ladies sending out these moms. I want one back,” he replied with a cockiness to his voice. 

Ross confirmed they could send in a female agent. Almost immediately after the unsub hung up, you volunteered to be the agent going on the bus.  

“I’ll do it.”

Spencer’s head shot in your direction. “No you're not.” His voice was laced with concern and a hint of demand.  

“Reid-”

“He specifically asked for a woman. We don’t know what he’s planning, he’s devolving.”

“And I’m willing to take that risk to make sure those kids are safe,” You defended yourself. 

You turned to your boss waiting for his thoughts. Hotch knew you’d been exposed to enough high tension scenarios to know what you were doing. But just like any member of his team, he silently hesitated, worrying for your safety. 

He took a breath before meeting your eyes again. “Send her in.” 

Right before you were led to the bus, Hotch took off the holster on his ankle and handed it to you. “Some extra protection in case something happens.” You couldn’t hear the concern in his voice, but you saw it clear as day in his eyes. 

You made your way to the bus and saw through the window Mark holding a gun to the driver and telling him to open the door. You stepped on and the doors closed quickly behind you. The unsub took a long look at you, panning up and down. 

“Well how about that. Aren’t you a beauty? He said with a cheeky grin. 

You tried your hardest not to look disgusted with him. Instead you kept your composure and spoke with courage and a confident demeanor. 

“You this flirty with all your hostages?” you asked plainly.

As he gazed down at your legs his eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed. He bent down and with the gun in his hand, pushed away the bottom of your pants leg. When he saw the gun in the holster, he tsked. 

“You always carry this much dead weight on you?” 

He stood back up and put his hand out, “hand it over, I told them no weapons.” 

You reluctantly took off Hotch’s holster and placed it in the unsubs hand. Your one line of defense was gone. 

The longer you were on the bus, the more anxious Spencer got. He knew you were an exceptional profiler, and you had enough experience and skill to handle yourself in situations like this. 

But that couldn’t stop the ache in his stomach or the fact that his heart rate could power a car by now. 

He stood closer to the bus now to get a clearer view of the windows. They managed to successfully get the children and moms off and to safety, but you weren’t safe. Spencer figured you were trying to negotiate with the unsub, but that was going nowhere. This was confirmed when Rossi tried calling him again but every call was ignored. 

This unsub was stubborn as hell. He knows he trapped himself, but didn’t want to back down. At least he didn’t want to go quietly. 

Spencer was talking with the rest of the team trying to devise a plan when the gunshots were fired. The team immediately ran back to the cacophony on the bus. 

More shots were fired, he didn’t know where from. He didn’t care. 

He just needed to get to you. 

When he got a decent view through one of the windows that hadn’t shattered he saw you. Your hand over arm in pain but still standing in front of the civilians to protect them. The unsub stalking over to you, gun in hand and smacking you over the head with it. You slammed against the chairs and fell to the floor. 

Spencer's face paled. He swore he was going to throw up. 

Through the fog of his mind Spencer saw Morgan escorting Mark off the bus, his hands now behind his back in cuffs. 

He rushed past them, clambering through the door and up the stairs to get to you, calling your name. 

“Reid?” he heard your small tired voice through the crowd. 

He followed it to you, laying on the ground struggling to open your eyes and clutching your left arm. 

He crouched down to your level with a gentle hand on your uninjured arm. 

“Hey, I’m here. I’m right here,” he comforted. 

“My head hurts,” you mumbled.

His eyes softened, “I know. I think you might have a concussion, you need to go to the hospital.” 

You slowly started to fade out of consciousness. Spencer’s heart dropped and his hand moved from your arm to your face. 

“No no no no stay with me okay?” he caressed your cheek with his thumb.

“Stay with me sweetheart,” he consoled.

Your eyes stopped struggling to stay open and finally made their close. His other hand rushed to your pulse point as he called for a medic.

Time seemed to stand still while Spencer sat next to your hospital bed waiting for you to wake up. He couldn’t leave your side. He didn’t want to. 

You were okay. You were laying in the bed in front of him. But of course in his mind he ran through all the possible scenarios of how things could’ve gone worse, how things could’ve gone better. What would’ve happened if you didn’t have your gun taken away, or if the unsub got angry that you tried to bring a gun in. What if he didn’t lose his cool and start firing. What if you never went inside in the first place. 

And with all of those possible scenarios, the same thought plagued him. 

He was wrong. 

Before he was too scarred from past traumas to reveal just how much you meant to him. Not wanting to repeat the past and lose yet another person he loved cared for. 

But now, after seeing you in danger right in front of him, now he was terrified at the thought of you never knowing. He was now more scared you would never know how much he loved the way your nose crinkled when you smiled. How he thought the sound of your voice could cure any ailment he had. How he admired your strength and desire to protect others. How you could light up anyone's mood by just being you. How he could listen to you for hours, even if you were lecturing him on things he’d known like the back of his hand.

To him it was a whole new experience hearing it from you. 

Spencer was pulled from his thoughts as you stirred awake. He saw your eyes adjust to the bright fluorescent lights ahead. He quickly got up to dim the lights for you. 

When he returned to his seat you smiled at him, “hi.” 

“Hi,” he smiled back.  

“How are you feeling?” 

You sighed. “Like shit,” you complained with a hint of humor. 

“The doctor said you have a minor head injury, bruised ribs, and the shot to your arm thankfully didn’t break any bones.” 

“Fun,” you said sarcastically. 

A moment of silence passes between you two. He doesn’t exactly know what to say. How do you casually tell your friend and coworker you have a crush on them? 

There is no casual way. 

“You called me sweetheart,” you broke the silence. 

He furrowed his eyebrows, “What?” 

You fidget with the blanket, “earlier, when I passed out on the bus. You called me sweetheart.”

He searches his mind for the memories of the day. When he finds the memory he realizes in the heat of the moment the term of endearment slipped out. 

He wasn’t aware you heard it. 

“I did,” he confirmed as his ears flushed.

“Why?” you asked curiously. 

He didn’t know how to tell you that he’s wanted to call you that for weeks now. So instead he settled with-

“It just … felt right.” 

“Oh,” you replied quietly.

Spencer tensed up at your response. 

“If I crossed the line-“ 

“No. Of course not,” you interrupted with a comforting voice. 

The corners of your mouth lifted and cheeks dusted pink. “I thought it was sweet. You don’t normally say stuff like that.”  

His heart warmed at your confession and a smile spread on his face. 

“You thought me calling you sweetheart was sweet?” he lightly teased.

“Shut up,” you chuckled, rolling your eyes. “You know what I mean.” 

Your laughter was cut short by a sharp pain in your abdomen. You bit down on your lip and gripped the side of the bed in pain. 

The reality that you were injured on the job was rushing back to him. 

He licked his lips, his nervous unconscious habit. 

“I was really worried about you.”

“I know.”

“No, you don’t,” he interjected. 

“The entire time you were on that bus I was sick to my stomach. Terrified that something bad was gonna happen and it did,” he started to ramble. 

You leaned closer to him. ”But I’m okay Reid.”

“You still got hurt. He shot you for christ sake!” his voice raising in pitch and volume. 

“Reid-”

“He lashed out at you! You could’ve died!” 

“Spencer,” you said firmly, pulling his attention towards you. 

He never heard you say his name before. No matter how many times he said you could call him Spencer, you still called him Reid. Hearing his name fall from your lips was like the consistency of honey.

You placed your hands on his face caressing his cheek. His golden eyes meet yours. 

“I’m alright. I’m still here,” you consoled. 

“But if-“

“Spencer.”

“Please,” he pleaded. “It’s important.” 

You nodded your head, signaling for him to continue. He gently grabbed your wrists and brought your hands in his. He took a deep breath before he decided to spill the thing that had been eating away at his heart. 

“I have feelings for you. I have for a long time. Almost as long as you’ve been at the BAU,” he started. 

With your hands in his he started tracing his thumb over your knuckles. 

“If we don’t have work I count down the days until I can see you again. When I do see you I desperately want to see you smile, see you happy. And if I’m the one that causes that smile, it makes my whole day. That’s why I never interrupted when you talked about something I already knew. The way your face lit up when you talked with such passion was the highlight of my day.” 

“For months I was scared of my feelings and I kept them to myself. I was too scared to admit how much I liked you because I-” his hold on your hands tightened.

“I know what it feels like to lose someone. This job takes so much from us; I never wanted it to take you.” 

Spencer let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in. 

“Today I realized it would be more painful if I went the rest of my life not telling you, than having even a fraction of a moment with you.”

A moment of silence danced between you two. Your head reeling from his confession, heart beating so hard you could feel it in your bones. Your palms sweaty from holding onto Spencers, but still neither of you let go. 

The silence was deafening, plaguing him. 

“Please … say something,” he begged. 

Your lash line was collecting tears that you simultaneously tried blinking away. Your eyes found his tie less intimidating than his gaze.

“I never thought you would like me back,” you said with a soft tone. 

Spencer's cheeks turned red as his heart started melting. “I do.” 

You brought your eyes back to his. That precious smile on his face was infectious. 

“Listen,” you squeezed his hands. “I’m not going anywhere. So you have as much time with me as you want.” 

Spencer's eyes softened at your words. He raised your hands and placed a loving kiss on your knuckles. 

The two of you were too lost in eachother to notice the footsteps towards the room. 

“Hey, I found some Jello for her if she-” Alex abruptly stopped once she noticed what she walked into. 

You both awkwardly pulled your hands away from each other; you fiddling with the hospital blanket, him rubbing his palms on his slacks. 

“So, feeling better?” she asked hesitantly. 

“Much,” you answered, still a bit flustered. 

“Good, good to hear,” She tried not to sound too smug, but the small smile on her face said otherwise. 

She raised and shook the jello container in her hand. 

“I’m gonna leave this here,” she placed it on the table. “I’ll be back in a bit.” 

“Thanks Blake,” you thanked as she left. 

Once she was gone you quietly giggled and mumbled “oh my god,” under your breath. 

“You know, she kept teasing me asking when I was going to ask you out. And don’t even get me started on Morgan,” he chuckled, shaking his head. 

Your jaw dropped and eyes furrowed. “Did everyone else know but me?” 

He pressed his lips in a thin line, “pretty much.” 

“I must be a shitty profiler,” you half joked.

“Absolutely not,” he said in the most comforting voice. He brushed the hair that had fallen in front of your face behind your ear. 

“You’re an amazing profiler.” 

You smiled that smile he loved so much. The one where you couldn’t hide your joy and your nose crinkled. 

“So, how do you think you’ll spend all those moments with me?” you inquired with a bit of a teasing tone. 

“Doing anything sweetheart,” he answered seriously. He looked at you with awe written all over your face. “I'm ready for anything with you.” 

“in omnia paratus” - ready for anything

Tag asks: @adrienneleclerc @ladybirdbeetle7

[muqingslover]

[ This is different than what I usually post but I had to get this out of my system. The new DMC show brought back so many memories and idc what the haters say it's PEAK.

Anyway, to the DMC lovers out there, please accept this humble offering ]

Being in a relationship with Dante. | some NSFW included.

⊹— He may be the best demon hunter but in a relationship? He's the BIGGEST loser. Dante is always throwing some lame pick-up line your way and believe me when I say he will not give up until one sticks. (Spoiler warning: The fact that it actually works only makes him want to do it again)

—⊹ Dating Dante is not for the faint hearted. You have to be ready for all kinds of beyond ridiculous situations and have a godly amount of adaptability.

⊹— He will ALWAYS answer the phone for you. Literally. It doesn't matter what he's doing or where he is he will pick up the second he sees your name on the screen.

"Babe? Oh yeah! I'm totally still up for dinner! By the way, can you add those pieces of chocolate again to— *Approaching yelling in the background* Just a sec! *Crashing sounds and gunshots* Whew, okay, anyway like I was saying—"

—⊹ Oh yeah, he loooooves using pet names and silly nicknames. His personal favorites are "Babe" and "My little luck charm".

⊹— He likes to give you "traditional" dating gifts because that's what he always saw others do so when he shows up with a big ass teddy bear and a box of chocolates (which by the way he definitely ate some before giving it to you) please tell him you love it.

—⊹ Bro is so competitive. Dante is NOT letting you win in card games or any other board games because he wants to show off his skills to you. Though, if you get genuinely upset he would feel bad and invite you to play video games with him because he fails miserably at them every time.

⊹— His hands grab your ass every time you hug him. Not even in a sexual way he just can't help it and he never fails to throw a "nice ass" right after.

—⊹ Missing jewelry, hat or belt from your closet? He's the culprit. This guy will wear anything as long as he believes he looks good in it. I pray for you if you guys are a similar size because then you will have full clothing pieces missing.

⊹— He is THE hype man. Dante kisses the ground you walk on and he supports your rights and rights (because you could never do any wrong ;)).

—⊹ Dante's favorite thing is to show you off in every opportunity he gets. And if he doesn't have the opportunity then he'll just do it anyway. He is constantly yapping about how incredibly hot his partner is, how good your cooking is, how cute you look when you're focused and the way you smell so damn good all the time like, man! You're a freaking gift from the gods! (someone save poor Lady she can't bear to listen to him any more)

⊹— Please also hype him back in return! He has the worst praise kink case I've ever seen. Each time he's praised he just doesn't know what to do with himself and despite the initial cocky attitude he is easy to overwhelm if you don't stop. The first time you praised him while patting his head or scratching his chin he got a hard-on and had to rush out with a poor excuse before you noticed it.

—⊹ There is nothing romantic about sharing a bed with him. It's an absolute nightmare. First of all, this guy is physically incapable of sleeping with his clothes on. He just can't do it. Dante used to sleep butt ass naked but then you convinced him to at least wear boxers. Next on the list of problems is the snoring— Like, it's so loud you thought there was a truck engine next to you instead of your boyfriend. Not to mention the fact he takes up all space on the bed and moves around SO MUCH while he's asleep.

Please invest in separate beds before you kill him.

⊹— Absolutely hates morning. Getting him out of bed is the hardest thing to do and that's saying a lot with the life you two lead. He will keep you trapped in bed with him by wrapping his strong arms around your waist only to when you get up he sloooowly slides off the mattress and onto floor like a worm hanging to you.

—⊹ Surprisingly, or not, very insecure. This man is not controlling in any way though, he is just very worried that he won't be able to protect you if something was to happen or that you will realize you made a mistake by being with him.

⊹— His favorite thing is to make you smile. I know a lot of people paint him as stupid but I genuinely think he just acts silly as a defense mechanism. It's a mask. With you, though? He will purposely act like a dork because he knows it makes you smile.

—⊹ To add to that, Dante does everything he can to keep your spirits up; Someone hurt your feelings? No need to fret, he’s already planning their downfall. Feeling under the weather? tickle monster time! Migraine? He is closing the curtains and cuddling you until it gets better!

⊹— The filter between his brain and mouth is naturally bad but with you, who he is truly comfortable with, it's just INEXISTENT. This may range from random, useless bullshit to out of pocket comments that should definitely not be said out loud.

—⊹ Physical contact is his thing. I mean, he NEEDS it and can be very high maintenance about it. Having his hands on you is not enough for Dante he has to be as close as physically possible and you need to be giving him some kind of attention in return.

⊹— Hugging you from behind when you're cook, snuggling while on the couch together, keeping a firm arm hooked around your waist while outside, constantly nuzzling his nose on your hair, kissing your neck at every chance he gets, pulling you into his lap as if it's his second nature ECT.

—⊹ Did I mention he adores your hair? In particular long hair because then he can fidget with it by twirling it around his finger or by being a dork and putting it between his lips and nose to make a mustache.

⊹— Your lips are like a drug to him. He will be saying "okay, okay I REALLY gotta bail now" and then stare at you for a solid two seconds then steal another kiss and another and another....oops, he's 30 minutes late already.

—⊹ Dante is a biter. God help you when you give him cuteness aggression (which is basically always) because he will chew on you like candy. Your skin is often red from teeth marks and he doesn't feel sorry about it at all.

⊹— Cannot cook to save his life but absolutely loves your food. Especially if you're good at baking! Man's scarfing down those sweet treats like it's his last meal on earth.

—⊹ He sings while he's showering and holds the bottle of shampoo to you like a microphone so you'll join him. Oh and yes, he is VERY tone-deaf.

⊹— No matter how many times he sees you naked he never gets tired of that blessed sight. He flirts with you like it's the first time he's seeing you and those naughty eyes speak for themselves.

—⊹ He has a high libido, especially in the beginning of the relationship where he's even more excitable than usual. Sex can be very clumsy and messy with him, but that's just what makes it so him.

⊹— If you're a breasty lady, he is reaaaaaally into you using your boobs to get him off. Dante also enjoys having your lips around his cock more than words could describe and a quickie in dark, tight spaces is part of the package with him.

—⊹ Bondage is a guilty pleasure of his. Dante prefers to be the one restrained and left at your mercy instead of the other way around because it's just very hot to him when you take control. You're also the only one he would trust to be this vulnerable with.

⊹— This guy is always late for EVERYTHING, but he shows up without a fail in the end. No matter how battered or tired he might be, not even if he was run over by a truck, he will definitely be there.

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

What about the Doors/Pressure shopkeepers trying to pretend they aren't giving their crush special treatment when in groups. Like, special inventory, discreet discounts, all that jazz

Jeff (Doors)

"Oye, I see what you're doin', Jeff. Thought you weren't one for giving out freebies."

*shrug*

"Don't play dumb! I saw you sneak the skeleton key into their bag! Even Bob's a witness!"

No matter what El Goblino says, Jeff will just wave off any accusations of him giving you "special treatment" whenever you stopped by the shop with your group.

While none of them donated to the tip jar, you were the only one who ever did...and even when you came back again and again, it was always you who showed him charity.

The rest of your group would just argue over what to spend their money on, try to rush ahead, mess with his radio, etc. etc.

But you trust Jeff, and he trusts you <3

So you get small discounts on his wares, and despite him not being able to speak, you could tell he's only looking after you.

The goblin jokes about Jeff's little "crush" on you...then he sees the entity's eyes widen and realizes "wait amigo,,I wasn't being serious do you actually like them?????"

He just shoos him away and will deny it to kingdom come, but it is true.

The moment you realized his feelings for you was when Rush attacked the shop once, and you thought you were done for-

When Jeff instinctively pulled you behind the counter and slammed the shutter down, keeping you uncomfortably close (yet somehow you've never felt safer).

When it's all over, he blushes and lets you go free.

You thank him with a small kiss on the forehead(?) and promise to see him again soon.

The next time you get duped by Dupe, or attacked by Eyes, Timothy, Screech, or a snare and need to heal...you discover a few bandaids in your pocket that weren't there previously...

Huh.

Wonder who gave you those?

Sebastian (Pressure)

Normally, Sebastian doesn't care to make personal connections with any of the expendables.

He's just there as their supplier before seeing them off on their journey, hoping they're putting his resources to good use.

But recently he's been seeing you more often, coming by with a new group or by yourself, trying your best to survive long enough to reach him.

Ofc, you've died to stupid things before (or maybe you're just trying to get all the monster documents..in which he's convinced you're some masochist), but you did have the most common sense out of your group and didn't try to annoy him.

The others just waste flash beacon charges on trying to blind the poor guy and stick the keycard in a medkit they couldn't afford...and for what?

Why do your "friends" do that? Are they stupid or something?

You tell them to stop, and it's...actually kinda nice to hear somebody willing to defend him.

People usually don't give a shit about the giant scary fish's feelings, yet for some reason you do.

Of course, Sebastian was reasonably suspicious about it.

"Are you acting this way just to get a freebie?" He assumes. "Because if you are, then you're definitely as stupid as-"

"No, I'd never do that to you." You shake your head. "You're here, helping us survive out there, risking a lot to get us those supplies...is it wrong for me to appreciate that?"

"......"

He goes quiet for a minute, but after the rest of your group leaves, he asks you to stay for a moment.

"You were looking at this Necrobloxicon for a while...you must reeeeally want it, huh?" He grins, flicking his tail where the book was strapped. "It's a rarity."

"I...can't afford that. I'm fine with this dingy flashlight-"

"It's yours for 70% off. Take it or leave it."

You do a double take. "Wait, wha-"

"70% off. Take it. Or leave it." He says through gritted teeth, impatient, only to smile when you accept the deal without further question. "Good. Now don't go telling anyone I'm offering discounts. That's your only one unless I feel generous. Capiche?"

"Gotcha. Thank you, Seb. This means a lot. I hope to see you again soon." You smile back, holding the spooky book tightly, and leave him alone with his thoughts.

And a warm and fuzzy feeling in his chest-

Wait.

"Oh no....what the fuck am I doing????? That's it! NO more discounts for anyone, Sebastian!" He scolds himself.

Little does he know, he's gonna keep giving them out, but only for you.

[deepspacedandelion]

How They Would Talk To You In Bed: Love and Deepspace LI’s

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .

Warnings: Smut, little cursing, dirty talk, mentions of cum/slightly hinted creampie’s (wrap it ‘fo you tap it yall.”)

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .

Caleb:

Caleb is a freak, low(high)key, so he’d be very vocal. He likes a little teasing (both giving and receiving) that is mixed with praise. Caleb loves to question you (in an EXTREMELY lewd way) and he wants you, not only to ACTUALLY answer but to question him as-well, not in a doubtful way, but in a reassuring (-ly lewd) way. He just wants to hear a self proclamation of your love and pleasure like he self-proclaims his. Nearing his climax, he’d absolutely LOVE reassurance from you that HE is YOURS—compared to the more commonly used (by male LI's) “you are mine”—, It’d make him cum so hard. HE knows you’re his, YOU know you’re his, and even though HE knows he’s yours, he wants to be told by you over and over again. He wants you to willingly claim him out of your own desire, not just because he claims you. Another thing I think he (his freaky ass) would LOVE is talking to your pussy. He relishes in the way the blush creeps up your cheeks and you get so shy, trying to hide your face from him (which he definitely wouldn't allow). He knows it drives you and her (your pussy) crazy, he can tell by how wet you're getting, how your legs shake subtly. Afterall, he knows his girls so well.

• "Hear that, baby? She's talking to me. She's begging me to fuck her so good, remind her who she belongs to."

• "Look at it, baby. Look how she's taking me so well. Look at how pretty she looks suckin' in my cock? All for you, right? No one else. They can't take it from you, I won't let them."

• "No, no. Don't hide. I want to see your pretty face when I make you cum all over my cock, yeah?"

• "I'm yours, baby, only yours. Let me show you, hm? Let me fuck my cum so deep in you and show you. You'd like that wouldn't you?"

• "So quiet now, are you, Pipsqeak? You were so mouthy earlier, now all I can hear is your pussy swallowing my fingers. How 'bout a few pretty moans for me? Let me know how good I'm making you feel."

Zayne:

Contrary to his seemingly less talkative nature, Zayne is actually quite vocal in bed (in terms of using actual words to express himself). Don’t get me wrong, he LOVES to moan and groan in your ear, your pussy always clenches so tight around him when he does, but he would LOVE to praise you (and receive a little for himself). His reputation as a medical professional requires him to be VERY specific which definitely translates well in the bedroom. His comments are always so specific, making you feel so seen. He tells you EXACTLY what he likes and EXACTLY how and why you’re doing so good. He'll throw in a few questions here and there, genuinely curious on how to make every time even better for you both. One last thing he'd include (mainly in foreplay) is some sexual observations he'd researched (he just wants to make you feel the best he can)

• “You’re taking me so well, My Love, always making me feel so good. Do you like to see me like this? Falling apart right above you?”

• "I love when you clench around me. Do it again and again. Yes~ Like that. You’re always such a good girl for me.”

• "Do you like kissing my neck that much? I like it too.”

• "Is it alright if I kiss you here? I think it could be another erogenous zone for you. Oh~ you must like it. Don’t worry, My Love, I won’t stop.”

• "Deep breaths, My Love, it could make your orgasm more powerful. Would you like to try that? I want you to enjoy yourself.”

Sylus:

Firstly, let me just start off by saying Sylus is EXTREMLY sensitive and reactive to your touch (*cough* Innocent Birdcage *cough*). I just know this man is a TRUE SWITCH but, anyway, anyway, He talks a little here and there, mostly about how good it feels, how close he is, where he wants you to touch him, how he wants you to touch him, and a little praise sprinkled in between, but, overall it’s mostly moans, groans, mewls, whimpers, and pants as he loses himself in the pleasure given to him by you. He can’t help how his head throws back or hangs low and his face scrunches up in ecstasy, eyes closed as he loses himself. He craves your touch all over his body, any and everywhere you can. Truthfully, he cums multiple times (atleast 2-3) every time you two make love. Majority of the time, he's a mewling, moaning mess, but he'll throw in a couple words every now and again. On the rare occasion though, he'd throw in a snide question (which he is genuinely asking, it's not rhetorical lol, so, definitely answer that, *cough* Nightly Rendezvous *cough*).

• "Are you teasing me? That's not very nice of you, Sweetie."

• “Have you forgotten how good I made you feel last time? It’s okay, Kitten. I don’t mind reminding you.”

• “I love being inside you this way. The two of us, becoming one, it’s my favorite thing. After all, we are true kindred spirits.”

• “What a pretty kitten you are. Does it feel good? Is that why you’re purring? My, my, kitten, you look ravishing.”

• “I want to look into your darling eyes when I cum inside you. Do you want that, sweetheart? Tell me you want that. Tell me you want me. Tell me who’s making you feel this good.”

Xavier:

Xavier is quite different from the rest of the bunch; not that he doesn’t talk or moan, but he does prefer to listen to you mostly. You just sound so pretty pinned beneath him. He absolutely LOVES to kiss, (*cough* Nightly Rendezvous *cough*), so his mouth is pretty occupied most of the time. But on occasion, he does enjoy dropping ‘comments’ (for lack of better terms), a little bit of praise, a few questions to reassure him, and lastly, the cherry on top, a few soft commands. Majority of his “bedroom sounds” is just the wet sounds of kissing, and a few pants/deep breaths to keep him grounded in the pleasure. But he is a sucker for eye contact, especially when he’s commenting on how good you feel.

• “Put your legs around my waist. I can get deeper that way.”

• “Oh! Right there~ It feels so good. I don’t think I can hold it much longer.”

• “Don’t stop, I’m almost there. I want to fill you up. I want to fuck it deeper into you. No! Don’t turn away. If you turn away, I’ll stop.”

• “Do you like when I touch you here? Or maybe you prefer… here. Is that why you bite your lip?”

• “You’re doing good, yes, please, more. Just like that and I’ll cum.”

Rafayel:

Oh boy. Rafayel is a bit of a wild card in my opinion, depending on his mood. He’s definitely a switch (from being a bratty sub ( *cough* Gem Affection *cough*) to a crybaby top (*cough* Tailwag Moment *cough*) to a soft dom, (*cough* Tipsy Evasion and Intertidal Zone *cough*), so his sounds do fluctuate, but when he’s a soft dom, they mostly range between: subtle praise, teasing, taunting questions, and snide comments. When he’s a crybaby top, he loves to moan and mewl but he also can’t help apologizing, he doesn’t mean to cum so fast, or grip you too hard, or to be too rough and incontrollable when he loses himself in how good you feel. As for being a bratty sub, oh boy, does he live to tease you. He pokes fun at your methods; how lightly you’re touching him, how you could tie him down tighter, how you could fuck him harder. He comments on your wavering confidence with a cocky smirk, but it’s all in good fun. He’d never actually say anything demeaning or something that would hurt your feelings (he’d cry if he ever did, oh no🥺, poor baby would be in shambles), but he’d poke just enough to see how much rougher you can get. He just wants to build your confidence in yourself, he knows you’re capable of putting him in his place (just the way he likes), and he wants you to know it too.

• (Bratty Sub): “C’mon, Princess, You can fuck me harder than that. I know you can.”

• (Bratty Sub): “Growing bolder, I see. I didn’t expect that from you. Oh? A punishment? Maybe that’s what I wanted in the first place.”

• (Crybaby Top): “I’m sorry, Princess. I didn’t mean to cum so soon. I can’t help it, you just make me feel too good.”

• (Crybaby Top): “I’ve been good, I’ve been so good for you I swear. Please… please let me cum inside you again. Just one more time.”

• (Soft Dom): “You’re getting wetter and wetter, like ocean waves. I like that.”

• (Soft Dom) “Yes, touch me, just like that. Gently, up and down. Ah yes~ So obedient for me. Maybe I should give you a reward. Would you like that? I knew you would, Princess.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .

Kinda debating how much I like this, but yeah, they all freaks lowkey. Next up is probably more ships, but I definitely have some more (smut) ideas brewing😏 as always, feel free to send in any requests!~😌🫶🏽💙

[invoncible]

have you ever thought of writing for one of Marks variants? If so you should definitely do Mohawk Mark his cocky attitude is so ugh …. i love your work by the way!

— thank you nonnie hope you like this ! I LOVE MOHAWK MARK OMG

"you know, i feel like i've seen you before." mohawk mark had you by your wrists, preventing your escape as he pinned you to the ground. he studied your face like you were a toy in his hands.

fuck. your boss had sent you to your death yet again. when you signed with your news station, you didn't realize you'd be signing your life away chasing these heroes and their problems.

you thought this was invincible—everyone did until a few minutes ago. they had similar getups and abilities. it was a logical conclusion, right?

wrong. within minutes of pulling up to the penitentiary, the news van was tossed onto its side, a invincible sized hole cut clean through the back. the variant grabbed you and your cameraman by the clothes and dragged you onto the ground... and here you were.

"oh, yeah!" mark snapped his finger, a wicked grin spreading on his face. "you're that news reporter! i remember you... didn't kill you back home cuz you always got my good side." he leaned in, taking your chin in his fingers and guiding you to look up at him. "s'that what you're doing here? you like the view in this dimension too?"

his eyes flicker dangerously to your cameraman, who was shaking behind the heavy lens on his shoulder. he huffed a small laugh at the sight, like the fear he smelled off your partner really got him going.

"yes!" you quickly exclaim, forcing his attention back to you.

his eyes snapped back to you. blood rushed to your head, pulse thundering in your ears. you try your best to not flinch at the way his rough fingers dug into your skin.

"what can i say," you laughed weakly. "you're the hot topic right now, had to get a piece for... myself?"

he paused, his expression like stone as he peered between you and your cameraman, weighing the options in his head: do i kill them for fun, or let them entertain me for a little bit?

after a long pase, mark rose effortlessly to his feet, dragging you up with him by your wrists. he slung his arm around your shoulders like you were old friends in some twisted version of reality. he twirled you around in the ruins, the destruction stretching out in front of you like some sick display of power.

“you like what i’ve done with the place?” he asked, voice dripping with mock innocence as he took in the scattered bodies, the blood-slicked ground.

"oh..." your eyes trailed over the wreckage, the broken limbs and bodies sprinkled over the ground like confetti, and all the blood was the icing on the top. "impressive."

you weren't lying, exactly. it was an impressive show of power, as sick as it was. unease twisted in your gut.

"i knew i liked you." he chuckled. "hey, let's get rid of this." he grabbed the mic from your hand and crushed it, the circuitry sparking one last time before dying completely.

"i mean, sure, i could kill you. it'd be a waste of a pretty face, so i’m not gonna. we've got history, you and i."

your pulse quickened. your eyes darted to your cameraman, who had already taken off, running toward another van and driving off. you grit your teeth. fucking coward.

you felt the weight of mark’s gaze burning into your back as he clicked his tongue in disappointment.

"i'm not the same as your y/n." you reminded him quietly.

"yeah? come home with me 'nd find out."

"no." your eyebrows furrowed.

he smiled, your resistance rolling off his back like it meant nothing. "you're gonna. two y/ns are better than one, and besides you're gonna love my place—it's a palace. i'll get you a nice room and everything. all you'd have to do is stay by my side."

"mm..." you glared at him, trailing off but communicating your answer loud and clear. not that you thought he'd listen to you anyways. his grip on you was almost possessive. this guy was superpowered, for fuck's sake. you were dead for the second he decided he was done playing around with you.

"ohohoho," he chuckled, raising an amused eyebrow. "you're lucky you're cute. but you're coming with me." he shot up into the sky, already set on taking you to wherever he intended to stash you until he had a way back to his dimension.

you shrieked as you were vaulted into the air, anchored only by his arm around your waist.

"shhh," he grinned wildly, his hair fluttering in the wind. "you were the one that wanted a piece for yourself. you gonna refuse me when i'm accommodating you so nicely?"

against your better judgement, you clung to him and hoped that his nice mood lasted a long, long time.

© invoncible

[saatorus]

almost yours — a satoru gojo fic (teaser)

pairing — college satoru! x reader

synopsis — when you and your best friend seiko agree to split a too-big, too-expensive apartment, her hot older brother—who you definitely don’t have feelings for anymore—offers to move in to ease rent. what could possibly go wrong?

teaser wc — 1.4k

expected wc — 15 - 20k

taglist status — open

warnings — explicit sexual content, tiny bit of angst, yearning (ur downbad for him), satoru is kind of a gym himbo in this one, nerdjo turned fratjo (physics major satoru), will add more as i go along

authors note — well. so.... uh... hi i'm too giddy reading what i've written so far so here i am, releasing a snippet because why not <2

“You go down there!”

“No, I already went when I went to get some chips, it’ll look awkward if I did it again.”

“Okay, let’s both go down there together then!”

“Fine, but you’re gonna have to talk to Suguru on your own, his earrings are scary—”

“Wait but I’m scared too—”

You don’t wait for a response, already on your way out the door before Seiko can trap you into her nerves again. She’s panicking about Suguru’s earrings and his intimidating smirk, and you can’t afford to get tangled in her spiral—not when your own is spinning just as fast. Your heart’s pounding in your chest, the way it always does when he’s downstairs. Loud and stupid and unstoppable.

Satoru’s here.

That’s the real reason you said yes to coming over today, and you know it. You knew it even when you told Seiko, “Yeah, totally, I’ll help you go over functions again,” like you were some loyal academic comrade. She said she wasn’t in the mood to start until later—“We’ll just chill for a bit first”—and you nodded like that wasn’t the exact outcome you were counting on.

He was going to be here. You’d overheard her say it in class on Friday, casual, “My brother’s back for the weekend before his flight. He and Suguru are crashing at mine until Sunday,” and your body reacted like it heard a fire alarm. Instant adrenaline. Sweaty palms. A weird twist in your stomach like you hadn’t eaten all day.

Her older brother.

The one who used to help you with math back when you and Seiko were dumb little middle schoolers with pencil cases full of glitter pens and zero dignity. He never laughed when you got your decimals wrong, never treated you like you were slow or irritating. He’d just nudge the worksheet toward you with a little grin and say something like, “Wanna try that again, hm? You accidentally turned your eight into a three.”

He was kind. And cool. And way too old for you, even back then.

He used to wear big, floppy hoodies with strange anime prints on them, crooked glasses that slid down his nose, and he always smelled faintly like fabric softener and shampoo. He’d ruffle your hair as he passed by the dining table where you and Seiko did your homework, like you were some tagalong puppy. And every single time, you’d sit there for at least ten minutes after, heart pounding, replaying the exact way his hand felt through your hair like it was forensic evidence.

But he doesn’t look like that anymore.

Not since the summer after his junior year. Something changed. You don’t know what, exactly—maybe it was just time, maybe it was something else—but when he came back from his trip with Suguru that August, he was… different.

Taller. Way taller. His shoulders had filled out like crazy, broad and solid under tighter shirts. He didn’t wear his glasses anymore—got contacts, Seiko said, rolling her eyes like it was nothing. But it wasn’t nothing. It changed his whole face. His eyes, already bright, looked sharper, clearer. His jaw had become something out of a magazine, all sharp lines and clean edges.

And he got hot. Objectively, unavoidably, annoyingly hot.

So hot that suddenly he was everywhere at school. Seniors above you whispered about him in the hallway. Seniors with perfect nails and shiny hair giggled when he’d be in the cafeteria with his group of friends. Even the teachers liked him. Everyone did. Liked him in a normal way.

Except you—you liked him in that humiliating, unbearable, long-standing way that made your chest ache and your stomach twist and your voice go all weird and high-pitched when he so much as looked at you.

You remember the first time you saw him again after the summer. You’d put on lip gloss—strawberry-scented, sticky as hell—and you’d worn that white, metal supported bra not your bright, training ones—even though you’d barely matured enough to form… well, boobs—even though it dug into your ribs and made your shoulders itch. 

And there he was in the hallway, laughing with Suguru, hair pushed back, earbuds hanging around his neck, and you remember thinking—Oh. I’m in trouble. I have the fattest crush on him and he won’t even look at me.

It didn’t matter. You were sixteen now. Practically an adult. And he was actually an adult. Second year of college— physics major—nineteen years old. Except now he was going to this stupid 3 year accelerated scholarship program with Suguru in Japan.

Now here you are, halfway down the stairs, hovering just out of sight with your heart going insane in your chest like it’s trying to physically escape your body.

Suguru’s the first thing you see—sprawled across the couch like royalty, all black clothes and nonchalant confidence. His hair’s tied up half-assedly, dark strands falling into his face, and he’s twirling something silver in his fingers. Probably a ring, or maybe a lighter. He looks dangerous and beautiful, and honestly, you get why Seiko’s so worked up.

And then—there’s him.

Satoru’s on the floor, legs folded in a messy tangle, like he hasn’t grown a day since he was twelve, except that he has. So much. His plain white t-shirt clings just a little too tightly to his chest, sleeves hugging his biceps in a way that feels like a personal attack. His hair’s a little wild—fluffier than usual—and he’s wearing mismatched socks, one black, one striped, like he got dressed in the dark and couldn’t be bothered to fix it.

He’s laughing at the TV—some variety show with screaming and subtitles—and the way his head tilts back as he laughs, the way his jaw catches the light—

Your heart actually hurts.

You stand there a little too long, shameless, helpless, your entire body screaming don’t look, don’t look, but your eyes refuse to obey. You feel twelve again. Small. Invisible. Watching from the sidelines like always.

And then he speaks. To you.

“You creeping or coming down?”

Your stomach plummets.

“I—what?! I wasn’t—I wasn’t creeping,” you splutter, stumbling down the last few steps in a panic, cheeks already burning. “I was—just walking!”

Satoru looks over his shoulder, grinning lazily. He scoots over and pats the carpet beside him. “Come on. Sit. You’re just in time—Suguru’s getting smoked.”

Suguru flips him off without looking. “This trivia show’s rigged.”

“You just suck at memory games.”

You lower yourself onto the floor, trying not to hyperventilate. You’re acutely aware of how close his knee is to yours, how warm he feels even from here, how his scent is something minty and expensive and a little too much for your nervous system.

He tosses the chip bag into your lap without looking. “How’d that mock exam go?”

You blink. “The—what?”

“Math. You had that calc practice test last month, right?” He glances at you, amused. “You and Seiko were complaining about it for like a week straight.”

You feel yourself short-circuit. “Oh. Uh… kind of ass?”

He laughs, reaching for a chip. “Figures. You always made the dumbest faces doing fractions. Like the paper personally offended you.”

You scoff, mostly to hide your dying brain. “Well, maybe if I had a better tutor—”

“Excuse me?” He gasps. “I was the best tutor in a ten-mile radius. Ask Seiko.”

“She failed.”

“That’s on her. I saw her bingeing dramas at 3am instead of studying.”

“I HEARD THAT!” Seiko’s voice rings out from upstairs.

You all crack up. Even Suguru snorts.

And for a moment, it’s perfect. Easy. Like it’s always been this way—like nothing’s going to change.

But you know it is.

He’s leaving. He’s going halfway across the world, and this stupid little crush, this years-long secret you’ve carried like a favorite book, is going to stay just that—yours, and only yours. He won’t remember this night. He’ll have new friends, new people. And you’ll still be here, sixteen-going-on-seventeen, sitting on the floor of your best friend’s house pretending your heart isn’t breaking just from how his knee brushes yours.

Then—

“Hey,” he says suddenly, quiet, leaning in slightly.

You look up, startled. “What?”

His eyes search your face, like he’s seeing something he’s not used to seeing there. Then he reaches out and tugs lightly on the ends of your hair.

“You’re growing this out?”

Your voice almost fails. “Uh… yeah?”

“It looks good,” he says, simple and real, and you can feel your entire bloodstream catch fire.

He’s still watching you.

But then the moment breaks—Seiko barrels down the stairs yelling about Suguru’s Instagram story, and everything shifts back into chaos. He turns away, laughing again, and the quiet slips between your fingers like sand.

Still. You tuck it away.

Into the little folder labeled him.

Because you’ll remember this night.

He won’t.

But you will.

authors note ; wow i love writing this should be my full time job tbh. also dw reader is not 16 in this fic the snippet is like a small flashback sorry jus had 2 make that clear and yes i said brothers bestfriend in my previous posts but bestfriends older brother is so much hotter so i tweaked what i've currently written to all ts sybau pmo icl yo gurt ok bai

[freezerbrldes]

no nut november - s.r.

PAIRING. Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY. Spencer is confident he can win a bet against Morgan… what he didn’t account for was having to share a room with you…

WARNINGS. smut, brief mention of male masturbation, unprotected sex, breeding kink if you squint

AUTHOR’S NOTE. It’s been awhile since I’ve actually written something and it’s also the first time I’ve ever written smut so hopefully this turned out okay. This is based on one of the bots I’ve made on character.ai/spicychat. I know it’s January but let’s pretend I posted this in November.

wc: 2.1k

credit to @cafekitsune for dividers

also on ao3

Spencer was beginning to regret agreeing to this bet. He thought it’d be easy, but after 3 and a half weeks, he felt so frustrated he could passed out from just the slightest touch.

Him and Morgan made a bet. Morgan was positive that Spencer wouldn’t be able to survive No Nut November. Spencer was not the competitive type, but he definitely wouldn’t pass up an opportunity to prove Morgan wrong.

Spencer is no stranger to getting himself off every so often. While he may be a genius with a high IQ, he is still a man with needs. He isn’t into hook up culture— he’s too much of a germaphobe for that. His right hand became his closest companion when alone after a stressful case.

The first week wasn’t bad at all. He began to think he might actually make it, but once the second and third week hit, that’s when thoughts about you were constantly on his mind…

Spencer has always found you attractive— like really attractive. So attractive that he often finds himself thinking about you while he pleasures himself late at night. He doesn’t want to think about you this way, but his mind always wanders to thoughts of you underneath him.

As if things couldn’t get any worse, you were sharing a hotel room with Spencer during the new case. He tries to distract himself with a book as you lay on your bed in an oversized tshirt and very short shorts.

You are reading over some case files, looking for any connections between the last two victims. Spencer could feel his pants get tighter at the mere thought of you just a few feet away from him.

You must’ve notice he has been particularly quiet today, because the sound of shuffling paper pulls his attention away from his book.

“Are you okay? you’ve been acting weird for the last week,” You ask, rolling over onto your side to look at him on the other bed.

“I-I’m fine, the cases have just been very, uh— draining — recently,” Spencer lies, shifting awkwardly on the bed to hide the evidence of his arousal.

“Right,” you chuckle, not buying his excuse. You walk over to his bed and sit across from him, the mattress dipping slightly under your weight. “C’mon Spence, what’s really bothering you?”

Spencer feels his heart rate increase. He fidgets with the hem of his sweater vest, avoiding direct eye contact.

"I...I'm just tired, okay? These cases take a toll on me," he says, trying to maintain a calm tone despite the growing tension between you.

His gaze drifts to your legs, which were crossed and showcased more of that smooth skin he'd been fantasizing about. He quickly looks away, focusing on the stack of psychology journals on his nightstand instead.

"Look,” Spencer sighs, “I appreciate you checking in, but I promise I’m fine. The sooner we crack this case, the sooner we can head back to Quantico."

Despite his words, Spencer found himself leaning slightly towards you, drawn in by your presence.

He feels his resolve weakening as your warm presence drew closer. Your scent fills his nostrils— a tantalizing mix of vanilla and something uniquely you. It stirs feelings within him he hadn't acknowledged before.

"I know you're just trying to help, but please, let me handle this," he pleads, his voice barely above a whisper. He couldn't meet your eyes, fearing the intensity he knew would be there.

A bead of sweat trickles down the side of his face as he recalls the countless nights spent pleasuring himself, always picturing your body in his mind, but now you’re inches away from him.

“Spencer,” you say, pulling his attention away from his wandering mind. “You’re one of my best friends, I can tell there is something else bothering you other than this case. Please— let me help you.”

Spencer's chest tightens at the word "friend". Despite the strong attraction he harbors for you, he had never allowed himself to hope for anything more. You deserve someone better, someone who could give you the love and affection you craved.

Spencer brain scrambles to come up with another excuse, as he gazes into your empathetic eyes, he finally caved.

"Okay, fine, There is something I've been struggling with," he admits, his voice barely audible. He takes a deep breath before speaking again.

"I made this stupid bet with Morgan, I’m supposed to go the entire month of November without having sex or masturbating. At first, it was easy but now, being in the same room as you, I’m having a hard time controlling my thoughts.”

Spencer closes his eyes, bracing himself for your reaction. He opens them again when he didn’t hear you laughing and making fun of him.

Relief washes over him as he saw an understanding expression rather than disgust. He swallows hard, his mouth suddenly dry.

"You're not mad?" he ask, his voice laced with vulnerability. In that moment, Spencer felt like he could finally exhale, like a heavy burden had been lifted from his shoulders.

“Of course not,” you reply, “why would I be mad?”

"Well, because even if I wasn't doing this bet, I still...I still think about you," he confesses, his cheeks flushing a deep shade of red.

"I know it's wrong, but I can't help how I feel. You're amazing. You’re smart, funny, beautiful..." Spencer’s words trailed off as he realizes where they were headed.

"I shouldn't say these things, but I can't keep pretending anymore." Spencer closes the space in between the two of you, his heart pounding in his chest.

After what felt like an eternity, His lips finally met yours in a passionate kiss.

Spencer felt a rush of emotions overwhelm him— excitement, nervousness, joy, and most of all, relief. This was what he had secretly longed for— dreamed about in the dark of night, and now it was finally happening.

His arms wrap around yours instinctively, pulling you closer as he deepens the kiss. His tongue dances with yours, exploring every inch of your mouth with a hunger he hadn't known he possessed.

When you finally broke apart for air, Spencer's breathing was ragged. He gazes into your eyes, seeing the same desire reflected back at him.

"You know, um, we should probably talk about this— about us," he adds, his voice barely above a whisper.

“How about we talk about it after?” you chuckle, your lips meeting his in another steamy kiss.

Spencer melts into the kiss, his body responding eagerly to your touch. He knew they needed to discuss the their growing feelings, but right now all he wanted was to lose himself in your touch.

Spencer's hands roams over your curves, mapping your body through your clothes. Breaking the kiss again, Spencer looked at you with a mix of adoration and longing.

"I want you,” he whispers, his voice husky with desire. "More than I've ever wanted anyone."

His lips trail from yours down your neck before reaching the hem of your tshirt, pulling it out of the way to plant kisses onto your collar bone. Spencer sucks on the sensitive skin before pulling the shirt over your head, carelessly tossing it onto the motel floor.

He kisses a path up your throat, pausing to nibble on your earlobe before pulling away just enough to admire the view. His gaze drank in the sight, the air thick with tension.

"You're stunning," he breathes, reaching out to trace the curve of your bare breast.

You moan softly as he gently caresses your body. Spencer dips his head to capture a nipple between his lips, sucking gently as his hand cups and kneads the other.

Spencer groans into your breast, the sound muffled by your soft flesh. He suckled harder, his thumb pinching and teasing the neglected nipple.

His other hand slides down your side before dipping lower to brush against the waistband of your shorts. He could feel heat emanating from your core, fueling his growing arousal.

He pushed the fabric of your panties aside to slip a finger along your slick folds as his mouth returned to your neck.

“You’re so wet already, is this all for me?” Spencer sighed, nibbling at your earlobe.

Before you could even respond, you moan loudly as he pushes a digit inside you, groaning at the tight clench of your walls.

"Fuck, you feel incredible," Spencer gasped, pumping his finger slowly in and out of you.

He adds a second finger, scissoring them gently to stretch you open, leaning back slightly to watch your face contort in pleasure.

Spencer watched intently as your body arches off the bed to meet his thrusting fingers. He curls them inside you, rubbing against that sweet spot that made your legs quiver.

He captures your mouth in a searing kiss, swallowing your moans as he picked up the pace, driving his fingers deeper.

His own arousal grew unbearable, it demands attention. With a growl, Spencer broke the kiss and hastily removed his clothes, throwing them in a pile with your discarded tshirt as you whimper at the loss of contact.

“I need to be inside you,” He pants as the last of his clothing is removed. He makes quick work of pulling your shorts and panties down your legs.

Spencer's hazel eyes are dark with lust as he positions himself between your thighs, the tip of his cock nudges against your entrance.

With a deep breath, he pushes forward, sinking inch by inch into your welcoming heat. A low groan rumbles in his chest at the feeling of your tight walls hugging his length.

Once fully sheathed, Spencer pauses, his forehead resting against yours as he savors the moment.

“God, you're perfect," he whispers, then begins to move, setting a slow, deliberate rhythm.

You moan loudly as he begins to pick up the pace, your nails leaving crescent moons on his shoulders.

“Please don’t stop, you feel so good inside me,” you beg.

Spencer's grip on your hips tightens as he pounds into you. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent as he loses himself in the feeling of you wrapped around him.

His fingers tug your hair lightly as he angles his thrusts to hit that spongy spot deep inside you over and over again.

"Shit, you feel so fucking amazing, so wet and tight," he pants, his voice strained with pleasure. “I'm going to cum so hard inside you."

One of your hands move from his shoulder down to where your bodies connect, rubbing hard circles over your throbbing clit.

Spencer's thrusts falter as he feels your fingers working on your sensitive nub. The sight pushes him even closer to the edge.

"Oh god, yes! You’re so fucking hot!" he cries out, his hips snapping against yours with renewed vigor.

He reaches down and replaces your hand with his own, rubbing harsh circles as he chases his high.

“Fuck yes, I'm gonna..." Spencer's words trail off into a guttural moan as his orgasm crashes over him, his cock pulsing and twitching inside you as he fills you up. The feeling pushes you over the edge with him.

Spencer collapses onto you, his weight pressing you into the mattress as he tries to catch his breath. His heart pounds wildly in his chest, still racing from the intensity of his orgasm.

After a moment, he lifts his head to look at you, his usually bright hazel eyes now heavy-lidded.

“That was...incredible," he murmurs, a soft smile playing on his lips, he places a gentle kiss on the tip of your nose.

He slowly pulls out of you and rolls onto his side, he reaches out to brush a strand of dampened hair from your forehead. You both lay in silence as your breathing returned to normal.

“Well,” you break the silence with a smug grin, “it would appear you have failed No Nut November,”

“Yeah, but it was worth it,” Spencer chuckles, his thumb rubbing circles onto your flushed cheek. “I’m starting to think you and Morgan set me up.”

“You really think I seduced you to help Morgan win a bet?” You laugh in disbelief.

“I mean, that would be a very Morgan thing for him to do,” Spencer says, his hand now caressing your arm, “That man always plays dirty.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I saw Morgan flirting with one of the motel staff, she left his room about two hours ago, so I’m sure you probably did beat him.”

“Of course he did, Morgan can’t go 5 minutes without sleeping with someone,” Spencer laughs as he pulls you into his arms.

You lay like that for a while before both of you drift off into a deep sleep, excited to see what the future holds for you two.

[xxgoldie]

happy little accidents

in which you accidentally send your nudes to lighter, and he definitely feels completely normal about it a/n: pls excuse the random letters that refuse to italicise, tumblr post editor hates me. notes: lighter x fem!reader (reader wears lingerie + one mention of boobs, otherwise pretty gn), mature (MDNI!!!), nudes (duh), mentions of rough sex, mentions of light bondage, kinda accidental voyeurism ig? wc: 1.1k

Y/N: [2 image attachments] what do you think?

A small smile makes its way onto Lighter's face when he saw your name pop up on his phone. Normally, he'd force it away - didn't exactly need people asking who had the Red Scarf grinning at his phone like that - but you'd caught him alone for once, resting on his bed after a long day. So he let himself smile, wondering what you'd sent him this time as he unlocked his phone - maybe pretty photos of the sky, or you were struggling to choose a drink at the convenience store, or you'd impulsively rearranged your room again. Corny as it was, it always made his heart skip a beat that it was him you thought of in those mundane little moments-

His heart skipped a different kind of beat when he opened your message.

Two mirror selfies, one facing forward, one in which you stretched to show your back. In both, you wore nothing but a gorgeous lingerie set, shocking red in lace and satin, a bra and panties and a sinful little garter belt...

In an instant, Lighter's thoughts were spiralling with questions and perverted fantasies. Why on earth were you sending him that? Not that he was complaining - he'd imagined you without your clothes more times than he cared to admit, and this was somehow better than any of his daydreams. Did Knock-Knock send screenshot notifications? Were these photos an invitation? A single word from you and he'd be there - he could fuck you right in front of that mirror, watch the bounce of your pretty ass and the way he'd make your eyes roll at the same time. A quick search told him that no, Knock-Knock didn't send screenshot notifications. Two clicks and the images were in his camera roll, quick future access to his personal slice of heaven. Shit, the red of that lingerie was basically the same shade as his scarf. Had you done that on purpose? You'd look so good in just that set and the scarf around your neck. Or he could tie it around your wrists, keep your hands attached to the bed as he pounded you into the mattress. Fuck, he should probably respond. What was he meant to say? Should he tell you what he was thinking about? That he was imagining taking you from behind, those crimson panties pulled to the side, no way he'd take them off when you'd dressed up so pretty for him-

Y/N: HOLY SHIT WRONG PERSON I'M SO SORRY

Okay. Maybe not for him.

For the second time in as many minutes, you sent Lighter's thoughts spiralling. Who did you intend to send those photos to if not him? Not that he expected you to send him raunchy photos, but he didn't think you were seeing anyone. He liked to think you'd have told him, even if it wasn't serious. Had he overestimated how close you were? Or was there some other reason - did you not think he'd approve? Well, not that Lighter would truly approve of any partner that wasn't himself, but you didn't know that. As long as they treated you well, he would be happy for you. Did they not treat you well? The mere thought had him clenching his fists with the sudden desire to throttle someone. And the tent in his pants wasn't exactly helping him clear his head, especially when the beautiful cause for it was still on his screen. And the intended recipient of those photos was the nameless, faceless mystery he was in the mood to throttle.

Crap. He still hadn't responded to you. You probably thought he'd left you on read.

Y/N: i meant to ask lucy for advice on the set ur names are next to each other i'm so sorry again, u did not need to see that

Right. Lucy often gave you advice on clothes - on the times you joined him in the city, you were constantly texting her pictures of clothes you saw in shop windows, wondering if you should buy them. And it made sense - the fact he got a full view of your body between the two photos was just a heavenly side effect of you trying to show both sides of the set. This didn't mean there wasn't someone else in mind with the lingerie, but at least you hadn't meant to send those photos to some asshole who you couldn't even tell him about.

But, more pressingly, he still had to respond. You'd sent Lighter six messages now, and he'd opened them immediately and not said anything the whole time. Not even typing. Just staring at the photos of your boobs like the lovestruck, horny idiot he was. He told himself to get a grip.

He had to be chill about it. He could tell you were freaking out a little on the other end of the phone - he just had to let you know it was okay, that you hadn't made anything weird. Without any hints to the fact he was picturing every possible dirty scenario that involved you, him and that pretty lace.

you're all good, don't stress about it

Shit. That came out way too dismissive. He should have addressed the situation more. Or would that be weird? Lighter was struck by the realisation that, for maybe the first time ever, he had no idea what to say to you. Words always flowed with you, even when you had his heart thumping in his chest; conversation had always been as easy as breathing. Though, to be totally fair, this whole situation was making breathing a bit more difficult too.

Y/N: thank u T^T this is so embarrassing fr

The message had served its purpose, at least. The two of you could move on with your lives. But there was still that itch he couldn't scratch; the guilt of enjoying the accident so much without you knowing, coupled with a desperate feeling that an opportunity was passing him by.

Lighter's fingers were flying across the keyboard in an instant, lurid compliments backspaced and overcorrected with praise that was far too chaste for the situation, then back in the other direction. He couldn't exactly tell you that he was thinking about fucking you so hard you'd leave scratches down his back the same beautiful scarlet as your bra, but calling pictures like that 'cute' would probably be insulting. The respectful balance he was looking for seemed just out of reach.

Eventually, he settled on something, finger hovering over the send button a little too long until he muttered a quick "fuck it", sending the message before the inevitable panic could set in.

if it's not weird to say, you look gorgeous in it

bonus!!

lighter's the kind of guy to send a risky text and immediately throw his phone into a river bc he got nervous abt how you'd respond

[digiflora]

╭┄───────────── 𝐅𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝐈𝐍 𝐋𝐔𝐕! ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

featuring. hsr men 〆 wc. 1.0k

art creds. 海仑 on weibo 〆 contains. mentions of being drunk/drinking, some suggestiveness but still sfw

gia's notes. new layout bc im allergic to keeping a theme 🏰 also i'm writing this while i procrastinate an essay. which is due in like.. 8.5 hours. and i am 2k over the word limit. joy upon joy.

╰┄➤ ❝ request. anon 〆 What HSR men says when they are drunk. ❞

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ they’re SWEET when they’re drunk.

his voice gets a touch softer, a little lower so that you have to crane your neck and lean in real close to him to catch what he's saying over the bustle of the bar that you went to and the chatter of your friends that you came with. it’s like you’re in your own little universe with him, the sweet pinkish tint to his cheeks and the dilated pupils a look that you could definitely get used to- not that his usual more reserved look didn’t make your heart hammer in your chest, too.

but it's just so rare to see him like this, for him to look at you like you hung the stars in the sky, like every word that passes your lips is a prayer, whose hands furl and unfurl in his lap like he's itching to touch you (you wish he would).

it's not like he really says much, per se, instead opting to watch your every move wide-eyed and with a slackened jaw. you're growing warm under his gaze, and you stutter out that he'll really have to quit staring at you like that before you get the wrong idea. that does little to stop his actions, though he does flash you a sheepish smile.

"i'm sorry, you just look so beautiful."

you almost choke as you take a sip of your own drink.

gepard, dan heng (imbibitor lunae), moze, luocha

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ they’re FLIRTY when they’re drunk.

it should be illegal for him to be this much of a smooth talker with that many drinks in his system. he's completely and utterly shameless, one arm rested casually against the back of your chair and his whole undivided attention on you as he throws every line he knows right at you hoping that one will land.

you'd be lying if you said that you weren't enjoying this attention from him, though there's the remaining sober part of you screaming how he's just a friend over and over, but when he dips his head low to whisper into your ear you're delighted to find that part of you audibly drown out.

everything about him is just so... tantalising. the way his silver tongue darts out to swipe across his lip, him not missing the way your eyes follow the movement. the way he leans back in his seat, the hungry yet calculating look in his eyes doing something to you. the way you see him deliberating over something before finally opening his mouth to speak.

and when he asks you if you want to get out here with him, it's only natural for you to accept his offer.

aventurine (realistically he gets sad when he drinks but that is not romantical or lighthearted at all) jiaoqiu, gallagher, boothill

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ they’re TALKATIVE when they’re drunk.

even on a good day, he's known to just talk, and talk, and talk if he gets going. that particular quality only seems to be amplified by the alcohol coursing through his system. he's been talking your ear off for the past half hour or so, a never-ending flow of words escaping his lips as he seems to he telling you just about everything that's on his mind.

you see the glances from others, the pity edging its way to concern adorning their features, but little do they know that you don't mind one bit.

while he may not be everyone's favourite to talk to, you've always found something within you compelled to sit and listen while he talks. he's always had something interesting to say, always been wary of if you are feeling tired or bored (not that you ever would be of him), and over your few encounters you've grown to be rather fond of him.

he's still talking now, an enthusiastic gleam in his eye as you smile and nod, propping your chin against your hand as you get comfy and study his features unbothered.

he sees the affectionate look on your face and stops for a moment, smiling widely and stuttering a few times before continuing.

dr ratio, sampo, mr reca, argenti

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ they’re TIRED when they’re drunk.

it's something that happened once, a few months ago when you had drank with them for the first time. you had all been in a group, and you had been chatting away with your friends rather livelily (i dont think that's a word) until you promptly felt a weight against your shoulder.

your reactions are a bit sluggish, but when you do turn to see just what it could be you're surprised to see a head of hair, and your tipsy brain just about manages to realise he's slumped over, dozing off on your shoulder, much to the amusement of everyone at the table.

you find it rather funny yourself, sneaking your phone out of your pocket to snap a rather unflattering-angled photo of him (which he still manages to look good in) that you send to him the next morning (he smiled to himself as he saw your grinning face in the corner of it and saved it to his camera roll).

you don't quite have the heart to wake him up or shrug him off, so you sort of just... let him be and continue talking like nothing had happened. some nondescript amount of time later he wakes up, blinking uncertainly as he gains his surroundings, before jolting up ramrod straight and apologising to you.

you giggle, tell him it's alright and tease that he must be getting old to be asleep this early, which is met with an unimpressed look from him.

but from that night onwards, it happens a little too... often to be some chance.

every time he drinks, without fail, his head drops onto your shoulder. it's somewhat of a routine to snap a photo of him like this, to admire it in secret before sending it to him, and it's somewhat of a tradition now for him to wake up and instead send you a reserved smile before letting himself doze off on your shoulder again.

not that either of you are complaining.

blade, jing yuan, caelus, welt

➤ IF YOU LIKED THIS, TRY ... do you want somebody like i want somebody?

[fandom-flight]

The S-Classes that I Raised often gets grouped with Omniscent Reader's Viewpoint and Trash of the Count's Family, but there's something distinctly different about Han Yoojin as a protagonist. I think it's that his story really makes you feel how much of a fighter he is. I'm not saying that Kim Dokja and Kim Roksoo aren't fighters exactly, but they tend to come off as schemers first and foremost. Their approach to most problems (from my perspective as someone who's read all of ORV and like a third of TCF) involves leveraging secrets of the world that only they know in order to get the better of their adversaries and achieve their goals. They plan things out a long time in advance, and sure, things don't always go their way, but they feel like chess players when they're confronted with obstacles.

Meanwhile, Han Yoojin feels like a guerilla soldier. He definitely also schemes, but SCTIR makes a dedicated effort to showing that his current knowledge of the future and the world's secrets will only take him so far. He does think ahead and plans for the future whenever he can, but most of his problems are solved by improvising. One of his greatest strengths is that he thinks on his feet and doesn't let himself be fazed by surprises. This ends up making him feel more like someone who has always had to fight desperately for every last scrap of respect and survival he could get his hands on in a way that ORV and TCF don't go for as much (as far as I can tell for TCF as of now). Kim Dokja and Kim Roksoo's plans go "first, I'm going to go to the super secret location to get a weapon that will help me in six months, and then in five weeks, I'm going to recruit an obscure powerhouse to be my spy for the operation I'll do next year..." whereas Han Yoojin's plans are more like "first, I'll get into some shit, and then, I'll figure it out."

It's kind of hard to explain the vibe difference because these characters are all defined by their cleverness, but I guess the best way to put it would be that Kim Dokja and Kim Roksoo seem more... exasperated? with the way they've been wronged in the past, whereas Han Yoojin seems more angry and spiteful about it. The first two mostly seem tired of dealing with the way their lives were going before and just want to be happy, but Han Yoojin gives off the feeling that he doesn't think he can find happiness without biting and clawing his way to it