#so much more calm and confident now

[loveandthings11]

Bonus 4x05 💗:

Ken going to Waystar for his first day as CEO 1x01 / 4x05

[inchidentally]

love how we’ve all noticed this change in him and his confidence over the past year and especially since the new contract <3

[chiropteracupola]

the wind and sea do follow thee /

and all the ledges calling thee...

[catkin-morgs-kookaburralover]

having actual sweet stuff for the first time in a week or so (bc ED Brain(tm) ) and I figured I'd make enough at once and have it over today and maybe tomorrow and I'm about a third of the way through it and have a horrid headache and feel rotten D:

[allurilove]

Calm Yandere x you

“Your expressionless boyfriend.”

Rated 18 + — mature short content!

Includes: calm yandere x talkative gender neutral reader, mutual pining?, strangers to friends to lovers, cute fluff in the beginning… other stuff later on. wink wink. ♡

Calm yandere was known to be a little cold. His default face is an unamused one, the ends of his lips always downward, and it certainly scared you away from him when you first saw him. He didn’t like to socialize as much as you did, and when you talked to him, he only seemed to nod. “Mhm,” and “uh-huh,” was all you could get from him. He didn’t hate nor dislike you— you’re an absolute perfect specimen, and a normal, and adaptable human being. You were everything he wanted to be. You were everything he wanted, period. He started to form a crush on you, and it was a minuscule one at first. He appreciated how you were able to carry a conversation, how bright and confident you looked compared to him, and you were this bright light in his grim dark reality.

Calm yandere was surprised when you made the first move. You wanted to be friends, and being just friends with you felt like torture. Although, he agreed—not wanting to miss the opportunity to be by your side even more. He followed you around, agreed to show up to all hangouts you planned, and he even invited you to his house. His house was surprisingly warm. He had soft white curtains, light pink decorations here and there, and it smelled like freshly baked cookies. Warm and sweet was what you would describe him now that you got to know him. He was the perfect host. He was showing you around the backyard, and he pointed out a couple of butterflies that liked to come by. His voice was flat and monotonous when he explained his favorite butterflies to you, but you could see a slight glimmer of happiness in his eyes. And most importantly, he showed you his bedroom. He had manga books on his shelves, Smiski figurines, and one of the compartments was just filled with snacks. He had an old dog named “Mini” that was sleeping on his huge bed, loudly snoring, and kicking her feet as she dreamt of running around.

Calm yandere had asked you to be his partner months later. You were shocked when he confessed his feelings for you, and here calm yandere was, thinking that he had done a good job of hinting at it. You did notice the glances he would send your way, and how they would linger a bit longer than before. You then started to think back to the times he would do things for you. He would bend down and tie your shoelaces. He gave you his jacket when it was raining, and he would walk home soaking wet. He carried you on his back when you tripped and hurt your ankle. He let you into his house when you fought with your parents, and tried his damn hardest to crack a worried expression on his stone-like face. It wasn’t like you weren’t into him, you tried to give him signals too.

Calm yandere was oblivious, just as you were oblivious. You had literally invited him to every place you could think of. You made pottery with him, and even put your hands on his to help him shape his clay into a vase. That was a very intimate act. An act that made you flustered and blushing when you had pressed your body behind his. Him, on the other hand, didn’t even blink at the action. When you had told him that you found him cute and adorable, he just said “okay.” OKAY?? Clearly that meant he didn’t like you back, and you quickly put on a strained smile and went on with your day.

Calm yandere was an active listener, not really a replier, but a listener. He might look like he was disinterested, but any subject you brought up was the most interesting, and fascinating, topic of all time. You would talk his ear off, and you liked to speak your mind. “So, as I was saying…” you continued. He nodded along, his cheek resting on his hand, and he leaned even closer to play with the strands of your hair. He liked feeling and touching you. It reminded him that you were real, that you were in front of him, and you were officially his. Your lips were perfect, always moving and speaking, and it would form the world’s most beautiful smile. He could tell that some days you didn’t want to hear any solutions from him, and only wanted to have someone to talk too. So, he does exactly what you want.

Calm yandere was happy to advance the relationship even further! He would show finally show some PDA. An arm would casually be slung around your shoulders while you two walked. Whenever you sat next to him, and he didn’t like the distance between you two, he would grab onto the leg of the chair and pulled it in closer. He then would kiss your cheek, and as fast as it came, he had pulled back before you could reciprocate. He knew that being a boyfriend meant that he had to do some certain things… He was feeling bold when he saw you wearing shorts, and without really thinking, his hand reached out to touch at your thighs.

Calm yandere was taken aback by the overwhelming positive reaction. He didn’t imagine that a single brush from his finger tips would cause your brain to go haywire. You had pushed him onto the couch, and he fell back with a little grunt. He saw that you had climbed onto his lap, straddling his hips, and had placed his hand on a sensitive spot of your body. He felt up the flesh, and his fingers slipped underneath your shorts. He kept a watchful eye on your facial expressions, and he hummed in delight when you spread your thighs even further for him. He rubbed his fingers up and down the length of your privates, and he started to collect some of the wet substance that had leaked out. He heard you breathe out his name, and when your voice soon became whiny and you had pleaded for more, he knew you had to be close.

Calm yandere had you on your back. He pulled your shorts down your legs, flinging them to the side after he revealed your lower half to him. He leaned down to greet your sex with his tongue. You were loud and talkative in bed, just as you were out of it. Your back arched, and your hands painfully gripped at his hair. Your body started to tremble, almost trying to squirm its way out from underneath him. His hands had to keep your legs from closing on him, “don’t try to keep me away from you.” your boyfriend said firmly. He then gestured to the growing tent in his pants, “this is all your fault. I’ll make you feel good if you can do the same for me.”

Calm yandere liked to lick his fingers in front of you. His tongue swiping at the salty cum before he fully puts his digits inside his mouth. He could feel the wrinkles and ridges of his pruned fingers, and he gleefully sucked off the excess cum and saliva that had gathered on there. You were lying on the couch with a bit of a daze, your chest rising and falling, and you could still feel his eyes wandering on the work he had done. You had love bites on your neck, trailing down to your inner thighs, and lower towards your ankles. He had bit you down there to keep his voice down while he had himself buried deep inside of you. What could he say? You knew how to press his buttons and drive him wild.

Allure: this is calm yandere after you had called him cute.

Allure: A little update: I’ll work on the master list soon after this, and I’ll have to update a couple of lists such as the yandere kink ones… so that should be done next!

[thebestandworstdayofjune]

i'm down on my knees, i wanna take you there

summary: you are suiting up for your first mission, the only problem being everyone "forgot" (intentionally withheld) this information from Logan wc: 2.3k a/n: thank you thank you so much for all of your support about my other Logan fic!! I am really enjoying writing for him, and have a few ideas for this Logan as well as some for Worst!Wolverine aka Deadpool 3!Logan as well! More info about empath!reader's powers and her role at the school in this one <3 warnings: slight (incredibly) slight angst, protective!Logan, a bit of a hurt comfort vibe, Ororo, Scott and Jean are meddlers this is the previous fic with these two, not required reading at all, though!

The leather was cool and surprisingly soft against your skin. There had never been reason for you to have to accompany a mission requiring one of the suits before, and you were shocked at how comfortable the uniform was. Typically, when you were asked to help with a mission, you were there for intel. Scope the place out, get a read on the general vibe of the place. Your powers didn’t provide the same level of protection as laser eyes or a strong regenerative healing factor. You would typically arrive with Rogue, in clothes from your own closet and one of the least fancy cars from the garage. You would slip in, get your read, and get out. 

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to help, you just lacked the training that the other members of the team had. And after all, someone had to stay back to mind things at the school. When Charles had approached you a few months ago about some possible applications for your mutation that would come in handy on missions, you’d been hesitant. It was so outside of your comfort zone to load yourself onto a jet that you’d never even considered the possibility. You were far more comfortable in the library where you held English classes for the students, or helping Charles keep students calm while exploring their powers. Neither scenario included the possibility of a lot of violence. 

Ororo helped you finish zipping yourself into the suit, smoothing her hands along the sleeves before giving you a final nod of approval. Jean and Scott granted you small smiles and you did your best to look as confident as you knew they felt. 

They’d promised it was a simple mission, the kind they usually took students on when Charles felt they were ready to join the team, if that’s what they decided to do after wrapping up their schooling. Charles had heard word of a young mutant who had some kind of telekinetic powers and had recently had an eruption while at school. Everyone agreed that it would be best to find them and convince them to return to the school for some training with as little force as possible, only expedited by the fact that Charles had found them hungry and afraid after running away from home using Cerebro. In the past, the kids had been resistant due to huge amounts of fear, causing them to lash out. You knew they were right that your powers would be useful at times like these, and if you were able to help in any way you were inclined to. 

“The fuck do you think you’re doing to her?” You sighed. It wasn’t that you were all conspiring to keep this a secret from Logan. It wasn’t a discussion that you’d had to agree on group espionage. It just seemed that all of you had a sort of understanding that it might be better to ask forgiveness rather than permission. Not that you needed permission. 

Logan looked furious, and what’s worse, he felt furious. You and Charles had been working to extend your powers over further distances, no longer needing to touch someone directly to know how they feel. Though it certainly doesn’t hurt matters. You’d sensed him upstairs, seemingly pacing around and seething. You’d hoped one of the kids had gotten on his nerves, or something on tv had set him off. You could see that was foolish now. 

“We aren’t doing anything to her,” Scott had his visor on, blocking his eyes from view, but you didn’t need to see to know that he was rolling his eyes. “She’s chosen to accompany us on a mission.” 

“A small mission!” Ororo chimed in, doing her best to give Logan a reassuring smile. 

You checked back in with his aura. Still furious. But it was a nice try, you supposed. Logan’s hackles were raised, his chest heaving. This certainly wouldn’t do. “Can I have a moment with you,” you glanced around the room, briefly meeting the other three mutant’s eyes. “Alone?” 

Logan was still staring daggers at Scott. He wasn’t even the one who suggested you were ready to come along. Jean and Charles had approached you this morning. You laid a hand against his arm, hoping to lead him out of the room, but he flinched away. The pang in your heart was immediate. Did he really think you were so callous that you would ever use your powers without his express permission, or some kind of emergency. You could feel the tears starting to gather in the corner of your eye, your arms wrapping protectively around your midsection. 

Jean slipped one arm through Scott’s and took Ororo’s hand with her other, gently leading them out of the room. “We are going to check a few things with the jet, last minute.” She began to hustle them out of the room. “Call if you need anything!” 

The door shut firmly behind them, and you were left alone with Logan, who looked like he was going to start shaking. “I wasn’t going to-”

“You don’t think I know that?” You can’t help but recoil. You have never been afraid of Logan, even when it may have been in your best judgement to be wary, and you still aren’t. But you can’t deny that it hurts when he snaps at you. Especially when you thought, well. You thought you were growing close. You started to turn away, but before you could, a warm hand caught ahold of your arm. “I’m not… fuck.” He took a heaving breath, shaking his head as if he could clear whatever thoughts were bothering him. “I’m not mad.” 

Despite the serious energy of the conversation, you couldn’t help the incredulous look you shot his way. He tried his best to hide it, but you could see the corner of his mouth turning up at you. “Fine, I’m not mad at you.” 

“You know, you really can’t be mad at anyone, they were just doing-” you were cut off when you fell Logan’s hand traveling down your arm, and pushing your sleeve up gently from where it was covering your hand. He slipped his hand into yours and you felt yourself relax a bit. “Just, take a look, yeah?” 

“Are you sure you want me to?”

“I trust you, bub.” You searched his eyes for any sign of hesitancy, but all you found was trust. Complete and utter trust. You nodded, tightening your own grip on his hand. Doing your best not to let the gentle rub of his thumb against your knuckles distract you, you took a deep breath and opened yourself up to his feelings. 

At first you did feel anger, bright red and hot. You sifted past it, steeling yourself. The first time you had encountered such strong anger, you had felt as if you were going to collapse. But you were stronger now, more prepared to deal with these kinds of feelings. The anger was strong, but also surprisingly shallow. In the depths of his emotions, Logan was worried. Terrified. A deep dark purple that made your own hands shake. His grip on your hand tightened, effectively drawing you back to yourself. There was more, a soft inviting pink that you didn’t dare to touch and shiny bright gold, which told you he was proud. 

You opened your eyes, fighting back the heat you felt creeping onto your cheeks. His expression hadn’t changed, pure trust and tenderness. It should have been disarming, or at the very least surprising. Logan wasn’t so open and honest with people. But the two of you had always had different expectations for the other. 

You couldn’t help it, a smile crept over your features. “You’re proud of me?” 

He rolled his eyes, but his smile only grew. He took your free hand in his, pulling you in closer. “I’m always proud of you.” He hesitated for a brief moment, and you did your best to bite your tongue. You could tell Logan had been making an effort to open up lately, and not just to you, but that didn’t make prolonged silences and easier to bear. “I know it’s not my place to demand anything of you.” 

“You’re my… friend.” You cut him off, wincing at the pause. It didn’t feel like the time to pressure him into labeling whatever feelings may be floating around. “And I always want to hear my friend’s opinions. What’s bothering you so badly?” 

“I could hear your heartbeat from upstairs.” Your eyes grew wide, too shocked to try to school your expression. Logan had told you several times that he had learned to block out his enhanced hearing when he was quite young. Usually to tease you when you got on a long tangent about something you enjoyed. He pretended to zone out and ignore you, but he would always remember small details about your rants, bringing them up nonchalantly at a later date  “I, uh, keep an ear out sometimes. Helps with the worry.” 

He worries about you? Even more surprising, he’s listening to your heartbeat like background music to his day. You promise yourself you will ask him about it when you don’t have a room full of your friends waiting on you. “I thought we’d covered this. I can take care of myself.” 

He sighed, bringing a hand to rest gently where your jaw meets your neck. “Sweetheart, I know you can. But that doesn’t stop me from watching out for you.” 

Your hand moved to rest overtop of his. “The good news is that I will have lots of people watching out for me. You know they won’t let anything happen.” You receive a single huff in return. He’s not convinced. “You know that these are the kinds of missions we send the kids on. I’ll be fine.” 

He considers for a moment, before dropping his hand and nodding. “Give me a second to get changed, and we will head out.” 

You grabbed for his hand, but he was already out the door, and moving too fast for you to stop. “Logan, don’t be ridiculous.” 

“What’s ridiculous is you thinking that I would ever let you go out there alone.” 

“As we already established, I have three very capable friends coming with me. I am only going as a contingency plan.”

“Well then consider me the contingency to the contingency plan.” You huffed, following him next door. 

You darted around in front of Logan, pushing against his chest with all your strength, even if you were fully aware that it was the equivalent of a fly buzzing around him. He stopped all the same, eyebrows pulled together in frustration. “I know you’re worried and I know that this is you trying to help.” Logan had his I’m about to interrupt you look on his face, leaving you to shove him again. Thankfully, he understood your intention. “This is important to me. You can’t be there every time, and I have to stand on my own two feet. I want to contribute to the work we do here more than just teaching kids about how awesome Shakespeare is.” The look was back. “Which is still an important contribution.” You added, which seemed to appease him. “But, I don’t want it to be my only contribution. So I am going to go and make sure that this scared kid who is all alone out there makes it back here safe. And you are going to stay here and make sure that everyone gets dinner and help with their assignments. And then when I get back, we are going to have a talk about all this.” 

“All this?” A smile crept back onto your face, hearing the teasing tone in his voice. 

“Oh my god shut up!” He caught your hands before they made contact with his chest, but he was slow to let go this time. He brought the back of both of your hands to his mouth, dropping a small kiss on each one, before returning your hands to your side. 

“If you come back with so much as a bump to the head, Scott’s dead.” 

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, and pointing out that this was exactly what you were talking about earlier did little to sway him. So you gave in, agreeing to give him a full report before slipping your hand into his and tugging him towards the jet. 

“We’ll be back in a bit.” You promised. You could feel the others staring from just inside the jet, but you barely noticed. Logan was checking over your suit meticulously, tugging zippers a few more clicks up and making sure that the collar wasn’t too tight around your neck. He kneeled down, checking to make sure the laces on your boots were double knotted. “Logan,” you laughed, reaching down to tilt his head up to look at you. “I’m too seconds away from sending a lot of exhaustion your way and leaving you passed out in here. You have to let me go, it’s going to be fine.” 

He remained kneeling for a second too long, a look in his eyes you couldn’t entirely place. The sound of the jet powering on broke the both of you out of your trance. He was on his feet in a flash, checking over you one final time. You rose up on your tippy toes, balancing by resting your hands on his shoulders, before gently kissing him on the cheek. You pulled back, nose scrunched up from the tickle of his facial hair. “We’ll be back in a few hours. Hold down the fort for us, yeah?” 

He nodded, pupils slightly blown out and a dreamy look on his face. You giggled, walking backwards for as long as you can before turning around and finding a seat on the jet. You could feel Jean and Scott’s eyes on you as Ororo began maneuvering the jet out of the garage. “Don’t even start.” You muttered, settling firmly into your seat, doing your best to soak up the pride and confidence the others were projecting into the cockpit. 

as always, feedback is so appreciated! if you have any requests for these two/wolverine in general, please leave them here!

next part

[cup-o-stars]

Relativity Falls!

Design Concepts (and my unnecessary thoughts):

Excuse the the colors, ig my apps are fighting.

I see Mabel finding success no matter what happens to her, but I really like the thought of her running an insane arts and crafts business in GF. Alternatively, if she fell in the portal, she'd come out acting confident as always, but she probably wouldn't realize how much the constant change and lack of family/stability wore her out until she settled back in. In either case, she's a bit cracked.

Dipper is investigative, but cracks easiest under stress and is not as inherently adventurous as Mabel or Ford- so the portal wouldn't treat him well. If he's not the one in the portal, he'd be into stargazing and real magic to share with people, while also warding tourists away from the dangerous stuff. In general, he'd be an unhappy adult if left to his own devices, lol.

Between Dipper and Mabel, I like Dipper being in the portal more. He's a great protagonist, but as a supporting cast member, he needs to be more insane to match the draw that is 'Mabel taking care of children,' ha. I also love the idea of there being no portal / some other looming threat for these two to struggle with (at least because Hirsche has made it clear that Dipper and Mabel are equally smart, and to me it seems like the portal would reopen way quicker with them), but I didn't plan on posting these and I don't know how my followers feel about me posting lore.

Stanford and Stanley:

Pretty much how they are in canon, but now they're in a setting where they can get over themselves, ha. They aren't quite as mature as Dipper and Mabel were at their age, but after coming to GF, they finally found other people to look out for them. Dipper could be a more emotionally available and level-headed role model (I think having people to take care of is calming for him in turn), and they'd both look up to Mabel as the peak of somebody who knows how to socialize.

Fiddleford:

He's a sweet, southern, farm-raised mechanical engineer just like in canon.

Idk why Fiddleford is in GF (visiting an unnamed grandparent?), but I really like his relationship with Ford in the journal. Following that thought, in this AU, he starts out more of Ford's friend than Stan's, and it's kind of a big deal. Unlike Dipper's arc on learning to be a kid, Stan and Ford clearly struggled a lot with interpersonal relationships / finding security outside of eachother, and that's what I think this AU could be about (it's great they realized they need each other in canon, but the part where they had no one else to turn to is also kinda crazy if you ask me).

Ford gets to meet another smart kid in a weird town, which helps him feel more normal. He has a better idea of what friendship is because of it, but also, since I can't imagine Dipper wanting an apprentice so young/vulnerable/impressionable or Mabel asking only one of the twins to stay- he'd have to come to terms with the fact that he can't live in his dream world forever. (Or maybe the apprenticeship comes from somewhere else, just because the conflict around going back to Glass Shard Beach at all, or sending Stan alone could be pretty good.)

On the flipside, I think Stan's initial jealousy of Ford and Fiddleford's friendship would force him to try finding his own friends / hobbies. I like the idea that he fails at first- and a lot- but Mabel notices his mounting frustration (which he is very keen on hiding), and her consistent and unorthodox support makes him realize he wasn't alone to begin with. He can be more open around her, which makes it easier to open up to others, and then he can make friends without having to pull any tricks. He probably starts with some animals, and then at least gets closer to Fiddleford anyways (I feel like they're both more practical than Ford and value human company more, so they'd bond easier once Stan gets over his personal hurdle).

Anyways- because that was way too much- Mabel's exes are a constant source of antagonists and Dipper is stressed about setting a good example.

(I was more of a Monster Falls fan back in the day, but I can't draw animals, lol)

[areislol]

‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎"WANT A (HERSHEY) KISS?" — with JJK men

pairings. satoru gojo, suguru geto, choso, yuji itadori, megumi fushiguro, kento nanami, ryomen sukuna, yuta okkotsu x gn! reader

warnings. all sweet mushy stuff, fluff, can be seen as an established relationship or mutual crushing. geto is written to be taller than you (sorry to all my tall ladies), sukuna calls reader "human" (his weird little pet name.), characters might be ooc.

a/n. i overheard my friend ask my best friend if she wanted a kiss and i immediately thought about this hershy kiss idea.

‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎synopsis. asking the jjk men if they want a kiss, but not that kind of kiss.

wordcount. 3.4k

— satoru gojo

gojo straightens up, his posture suddenly becoming theatrically grand. he places a hand dramatically over his heart, his eyes wide with mock seriousness as he gazes deeply into yours.

“oh, you have no idea what you’ve just unleashed,” he declares, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “i’m more than ready for your kiss!”

with a flourish, he takes a step back. he raises his other hand to his forehead as if swooning, his usual confident smirk replaced by an exaggerated look of faux vulnerability.

“oh, how could i have known today would be the day? the day my heart would finally be captured by an unexpected proposal!”

he lowers himself slightly as if preparing for the grand finale of some romantic play, his eyes never leaving yours.

you quirked an eyebrow, confused by your gojo's reaction. he takes a deep breath, his expression shifting to one of resolute determination. "what—"

“i accept your kiss with all the fervour of a thousand lifetimes!” he exclaims, his voice rising to a dramatic crescendo.

before you can react, he swoops in closer, closing his eyes as if truly expecting a romantic kiss. his lips are slightly puckered, and he holds the pose for a moment, the room filled with anticipation of his over-the-top performance.

"....what are you doing..." is all you manage to say while staring at gojo like he was a madman. at your words, he lets out a faint "huh" before peeking with one eyes open. you cocked your head to the side, reaching your palm out with a... hershey's kiss?

gojo's eyes travel between your face and the chocolate treat on your palm. both his eyes open as he resumes his old posture. "what's that?" he asks, confused. where was his kiss?

you nudge him with your hand, "take it, it's the kiss." you responded. there was a pregnant pause as gojo felt his soul being crushed and crumbling away.

he pouts as he usually does when things don't go his way. "so i won't be getting the kiss?" his expression shifts to one of exaggerated disappointment.

“you won't be getting any kiss other than the chocolate kiss in the palm of my hands! if you don't want it then just say it, i'll give it to someone else.”

gojo immediately felt a stab to his heart at your words. "so... no kiss..?" he asked once more, pushing his luck a bit too much. you turned around, beginning to walk over to maki.

"wait wait wait! no— wait! i'll take the kiss, come back! i thought we had something special!!"

safe to say gojo chased you around the courtyard wanting that kiss so badly. (p.s. he never got it)

— suguru geto

he looks up from his tea, his eyebrows raising slightly in mild surprise. his calm demeanour doesn’t waver, but you can see a spark of curiosity in his eyes.

“a kiss?” he repeats, setting down his cup with a gentle clink. “well, that’s unexpected.”

his eyes scan your face, you approached him with a playful smile, unbeknownst to him, holding a small hershey’s kiss hidden in your hand.

his response is measured, his tone light yet sincere. there’s a slight tilt of his head as he considers your offer, a small, enigmatic smile playing on his lips. his curiosity is clearly piqued.

“are you sure you want to do this right now?” he asks softly, his voice carrying a hint of amusement.

you can see the gears turning in his mind. he stands up gracefully, his tall frame now towering over you slightly. his presence is both calming and commanding, and he steps closer, his gaze never leaving yours.

“if you’re offering, who am i to refuse?” he says, his voice soft and gentle, yet with a hint of playfulness.

as he leans in, his eyes close slightly, and his movements are slow and deliberate. his face is inches from yours, his lips poised as if expecting a tender kiss on the cheek or lips.

his breath is warm against your skin, just as his lips are about to meet yours, you can’t hold it in any longer. you burst out laughing, the sound breaking the tension. geto’s eyes snap open, and he pulls back slightly, a look of mild confusion and surprise on his face.

“wait, suguru,” you manage to say between giggles, holding up the small, foil-wrapped hershey’s kiss. “i meant hershey’s kiss!”

geto blinks, taking in the sight of the tiny chocolate in your hand. for a moment, he’s taken aback, his calmness cracking just enough to show his genuine surprise. then, a slow smile spreads across his face, his eyes crinkling at the corners with amusement.

“oh, i see,” he says, chuckling softly, the sound low and rich. “you got me there.”

his surprise melts into good-natured acceptance as he reaches out to take the hershey’s kiss from your hand, his fingers brushing yours gently.

“i should have known there was a twist,” he says, his tone filled with amusement. he unwraps the chocolate with ease, the foil crinkling softly as he reveals the sweet treat inside.

“well, i can’t say no to chocolate,” he continues, popping the hershey’s kiss into his mouth with a graceful motion. “but i might still want that other kiss later.”

you shake your head, still laughing, "you’re too much, suguru.”

he smiles, his eyes twinkling with amusement, "that’s what makes life interesting,” he replies, his tone affectionate. “you always manage to keep me on my toes.”

geto leans in slightly, his expression turning more playful, a hint of a challenge in his eyes. “but just so you know, i'm expecting a real kiss next time,” he says softly, his voice filled with a gentle warmth that sends a pleasant shiver down your spine. “no more tricks.”

you nod, your smile matching his. “alright.”

— choso

choso’s dark eyes widen slightly, and he looks at you in surprise.

his usually stoic demeanour softened by your unexpected offer. choso blinked in surprise, his dark eyes widening gradually. "a kiss?" he spoke, uncertain of what he had heard. "from you?"

your playful smile widened a fraction as you nodded. "that's if you really want one," you replied.

choso's expression softened ever so slightly, a flicker of happiness crossing his features. he continued to sit down on the chair, his eyes, usually so guarded, were fixed on yours with anticipation.

"well since you asked," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

you nodded again, containing your joy as you held out the small chocolate treat. but choso, his attention solely on you, didn't notice your extended hand.

instead, he leaned in a fraction closer, his breath brushing against your cheek as he waited expectantly.

time seemed to slow, the air thick with anticipation. and then, as he continued to wait, you couldn't hold back any longer. with a gentle chuckle, you revealed the hershey's kiss, holding it between your fingers.

"wait, choso," you said, your voice soft. "i meant a hershey's kiss."

for a fleeting moment, confusion clouded choso's eyes, his brows furrowing slightly as he processed your words. the disappointment that followed was palpable, a subtle shift in his demeanour as he withdrew slightly, his gaze dropping to the chocolate in your hand.

"oh," he murmured quietly, a faint flush colouring his cheeks. "i see. i misunderstood."

regret tinged your amusement now, your heart squeezing at the sight of his crestfallen expression. you held onto whatever you could to stop yourself from apologising (despite it not being your fault in the first place) but his saddened face had a deadly grip on your aching heart.

letting out a soft sigh, you decide to make up for this misunderstanding. "i'll make it up to you," you promised, offering him the hershey's kiss with a gentle smile.

he looks back at you, his eyes searching yours for lord knows what. you step closer, closing the distance between you. “here,” you say softly, holding the hershey’s kiss in one hand and reaching up to gently cup his cheek with the other. “you can have both.”

you lean in and place a tender kiss on his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin under your lips. as you pull back, you see the love in his eyes, the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"how was the kiss?"

"amazing."

— yuji itadori

yuji sat relaxed on the couch, flipping through a magazine with casual interest before you asked him the question.

he looked up from his magazine, his expression momentarily puzzled before a flicker of curiosity crossed his face. "a kiss?" he repeated as his head cocked to the side, intrigued.

"yeah," you continued, your smile widening as you extended the small chocolate towards him. "i thought you might like one."

a hint of confusion lingered on yuji's features as he accepted the chocolate from you. "oh, thanks!" he exclaimed, unwrapping the chocolate with a grin. he popped it into his mouth, savouring the sweetness with an appreciative nod.

however, as he finished the chocolate, his gaze turned back to you with a playful look on his face. "that was good," he remarked casually, a mischievous smile tugging at his lips.

"but you know, i was actually hoping for a different kind of kiss."

you couldn't help but laugh softly at his playful teasing, feeling a warmth spread through you at his easygoing nature. "oh really?" you replied teasingly, pretending to consider his request. "what kind of kiss were you hoping for?"

yuji's grin widened, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "hmm, how about…" he trailed off, leaning in closer with a twinkle in his eye.

before he could finish his sentence, you leaned in swiftly and gently kissed his warm cheek. his skin was soft against your lips, radiating a faint warmth.

yuji blinked in surprise, his hand instinctively touching his cheek where your lips had just been.

"like that?" you asked with a playful smirk, teasing him lightly.

yuji chuckled softly, his cheeks dusted with a faint blush. "yeah," he admitted, his voice softening. "that was nice."

the room fell into a comfortable silence, filled with a newfound ease. yuji glanced at you, a soft smile playing on his lips as he tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

"thanks for the chocolate, and the kiss," he said sincerely, his eyes meeting yours with a warmth that made your heart skip a beat. you shake your head, "it's fine, i enjoyed the kiss."

yuji immediately brightens up at your words before speaking. "can i get another kiss?" he looks at you with those pleading, puppy eyes. ugh. you let out a soft sigh and nod. "of course, on the cheek or lips?"

"lips please!"

— megumi fushiguro

he pauses. did he hear you correctly? a kiss? why now, as he's training? did you need to distract him after doing something wrong (you had a tendency to do that)? thousands of thoughts whirled around in his head.

"a... a kiss?" he repeated, his voice betraying a hint of confusion and something else—perhaps a flicker of vulnerability.

you nodded, feeling giddy for absolutely no reason. "yeah, a kiss. what do you think?"

for a moment, megumi seemed to be at a loss for words. he glanced around, as if checking to see if anyone else was watching, then looked back at you.

"why are you asking me that?" he said, his voice low and slightly nervous.

you couldn't help but chuckle softly at his reaction. "just answer the question, megumi. do you want one or not?"

his cheeks took on a faint tint of pink, a sight that made your heart skip a beat. he struggled with his thoughts for a moment before he finally nodded, his gaze steady on yours. "sure," he said quietly.

you pulled the small hershey's kiss from your pocket and held it out to him. "here," you said, waiting for him to take the treat.

megumi stared at the chocolate in your hand, his expression shifting from confusion to realization and then to mild embarrassment. he let out a small, almost imperceptible sigh, shaking his head with a wry smile.

"oh, yeah. thanks," he muttered, feeling completely and utterly embarrassed by the thought that he would actually be getting a different type of kiss.

your eyes focus solely on megumi as he stares at the chocolate in your hand. he seemed disappointed but tried his best to hide it, but he knew better.

"you look disappointed. why?"

there goes your attentiveness.

"nothing's wrong. i just thought that.." he paused, taking the chocolate and unwrapping it, popping it into his mouth. your brows raised at his abrupt pause, indicating for him to go on.

you wait for him to finish the chocolate, and when he does you notice a faint blush on his cheeks. he seems to consider something for a moment, his eyes growing more contemplative.

megumi let out a soft sigh, eyes downcast as if embarrassed to say whatever he was about to say. "if..." he began slowly, "i was hoping that you would give me the other kind of kiss,"

his words took you by surprise, and you felt a warm flush creep up your cheeks. "oh?" you replied, your heart fluttering at his unexpected words (though you haven't fully comprehended it yet). after a few seconds, the realisation hit. "OHHH!! was that the type of kiss you were expecting?"

"shut up."

— kento nanami

nanami raised an eyebrow, curiosity was evident on his face. "a kiss?" he repeated. you nod your head.

"yes, a kiss. what do you say?"

he studied your face for a moment, his sharp eyes searching for any hint of a joke. but seeing your expression, he relaxed. "alright," he said with a small, gentle smile.

"i suppose i could indulge."

to your surprise, nanami stood up and closed the distance between you with a few steps. gently, he cupped your face in his warm, calloused hand. leaning in, he placed a small, chaste kiss on your forehead, his lips soft against your skin.

"there," he said, pulling back slightly to look into your eyes. "now you can give me a kiss."

your heart fluttered wildly in your chest, and you felt a flush rise to your cheeks. you fumbled for a moment, holding up the small hershey's kiss that had been concealed in your grip.

"i-i meant this kiss," you stammered, your voice flustered. "but this works too."

nanami's eyes flicked to the chocolate in your hand, and a soft chuckle escaped his lips. "ah, i see," he said, a rare glint of amusement dancing in his eyes. "a hershey's kiss."

he took the small chocolate from your hand, unwrapping it with practised ease, he popped the chocolate into his mouth, savouring the sweetness. "delicious," he remarked, his gaze never leaving yours.

you couldn't help but laugh, still feeling flustered by his actions as you shook your head. "i didn't expect you to actually kiss me like that," you admitted, a grin creeping onto your face, tugging at the corner of your lips.

nanami's smile widened slightly, a gentle warmth in his eyes. "you asked if i wanted a kiss," he said simply. "i saw no reason to decline."

— ryomen sukuna

the room was thick with tension as the king of curses lounged on his throne-like seat, his piercing red eyes flickering with a dangerous mix of boredom and disdain.

the king of curses rarely indulged in the mundane pleasantries of human interaction, yet when it comes to you, it becomes tolerable.

you approached him, chocolate clutched in your hand. "hey, sukuna," you called out, trying to keep your voice steady.

he shifted his gaze towards you, his eyes narrowing slightly as he regarded you with a mix of curiosity and contempt. "what is it, human?" he growled, his voice dripping with disdain.

taking a deep breath, you mustered your courage and offered him a tentative smile. "do you want a kiss?"

for a moment, sukuna stared at you, his expression unreadable. then, a mocking scoff escaped his lips, and he leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "a kiss?"

"i don't want your disgusting lips on mine, or on my skin at all. foul. don't you ever ask me that stupid question ever again."

you let out a sigh, resisting the urge to roll your eyes at his words. "i didn't mean that kind of kiss," you said softly, revealing the small chocolate in your hand. "i meant a hershey's kiss."

sukuna's eyes flicked to the chocolate, and for a fleeting moment, a flicker of something—curiosity, perhaps—passed through his gaze. he snatched the chocolate from your hand, unwrapping it with a sneer.

"pathetic," he muttered, popping the sweet treat into his mouth. he chewed slowly, his expression shifting from contempt to thoughtful consideration as he continued to chew.

you observed him, noticing the subtle change in his face. despite his harsh words, there was a part of him that seemed to enjoy the small gesture, though, he'd rather allow himself to be killed than admit his feelings.

after swallowing the chocolate, sukuna's eyes returned to yours, his gaze intense and unwavering. "that was tolerable," he admitted grudgingly, a faint smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "is there anything else?"

you shake your head. "no... what else would you want?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

he leaned back in his seat, his eyes never leaving yours. "another type of kiss," he said, his tone both commanding and taunting. "show me if you dare."

you hesitated, the weight of his demand on your heart. his earlier insult still lingered in your mind, but there was something in his gaze—a challenge, a test—that compelled you to step forward.

sukuna's eyes gleamed with a predatory anticipation as you drew closer. when your lips brushed against his cheek, his skin was surprisingly warm, a stark contrast to his cold behaviour.

the kiss was brief, a soft and tentative gesture that seemed to surprise even him. as you pulled back, you searched his face for a reaction. sukuna was silent, his expression neutral. then, a slow, almost imperceptible smile spread across his lips—a smile that was equal parts dangerous and intrigued.

"not bad," he murmured, his voice softer but no less commanding. "perhaps you're not as foolish as i thought."

sukuna's eyes darkened, his smirk widening slightly. "don't think this changes anything," he warned, his voice regaining its edge. "but i might tolerate your presence a bit longer."

— yuta okkotsu

yuta's eyes widened, his cheeks flushing a deep shade of pink almost immediately. he seemed caught off guard by your question, his book slowly slipping from his grasp as he tried to process your words.

"a-a kiss?" he stammered, his voice shaky. "you mean… like… a real kiss?"

you couldn't help but chuckle softly at his flustered reaction. "yes, a kiss," you spoke, watching as his blush deepened.

his mind seemed to be racing, a mix of confusion and excitement flashing in his eyes. "i… well… um… sure?" he managed to say, his voice barely above a whisper.

he looked down, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt, clearly trying to gather his composure.

you held out the small hershey's kiss, the silver foil catching the fading sunlight. "i meant this kiss," you said softly, a knowing smile on your face (yuta was always very easy to read).

yuta stared at the chocolate in your hand, his blush was still prominent but now mixed with a look of realization and slight embarrassment. "oh," he breathed out, his shoulders relaxing a bit. he let out a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "o-oh! yeah, totally—a chocolate kiss."

you handed him the chocolate, watching as he took it from you with a shy smile. "yeah, a chocolate kiss," you confirmed, your voice gentle.

as yuta unwrapped the chocolate, he glanced up at you with a sheepish grin. "i thought you meant the other kiss," he admitted, popping the treat into his mouth.

after a while, yuta turned to you, his blush returning slightly. "do you think you can give me another kiss?"

your heart skipped a beat at his words, and you felt your own cheeks warming. "you mean like the physical kiss? not the chocolate" you replied softly, already knowing the answer. he nodded, feeling a little nervous. "yeah. i mean… if you feel like it. no pressure of course!!"

you smiled, laughing softly. "i'll keep that in mind," you said gently. "you're too sweet."

yuta's smile widened, his eyes shining with happiness. "you're the one that's sweet here," he replied, his voice soft and filled with warmth.

rika is fuming right now

a/n: divider credits @/v6que // my first-ish post for jjk ^-^ if there are any pronouns other than GN please tell me, either in messages or on this post! thank you for reading 💕

[rafecameronssl4t]

Actors on Actors || Drew Starkey x actress!reader

Summary: Actress!reader and Drew partaking in Variety's Actors on Actors!!

Warnings: not proofread sozz

Word count: 3,057 loooong one

A/n: damn I felt like I was in the interview room for this one

MASTERLIST

Drew couldn’t keep his eyes off you as the crew flitted around, prepping for the Actors on Actors interview with Variety. You were standing just a few feet away, laughing lightly at something one of the staff members had said, your head tilted back, eyes sparkling. To him, you looked utterly breathtaking—ethereal, even. Everyone knew Drew Starkey had the biggest crush on you.

He was never subtle about it, often caught in candid interviews or behind-the-scenes clips praising you, his admiration so obvious it became a running joke among his friends and colleagues. But right now, as he adjusted his mic and watched you from the corner of his eye, he wished he hadn’t been so vocal about it. His nerves were getting the best of him.

What if he said something dumb? What if you already thought he was just some lovesick fool? He swallowed hard, trying to calm the fluttering in his chest as you walked toward the set, your heels clicking softly against the floor. “Drew Starkey,” you greeted warmly, a radiant smile lighting up your features as you settled into the armchair opposite him.

You sat first, crossing your legs effortlessly, the picture of poise. “Y/n,” Drew smiled back, leaning forward slightly to kiss both of your cheeks. The casual intimacy of the gesture sent his pulse racing, but he played it cool as you let out a soft laugh, your perfume lingering faintly in the air.

“How’s it going?” he asked, his tone steady, though there was a barely perceptible edge to it—a nervous undertone that betrayed just how much this moment meant to him. His gaze lingered on yours, longer than what might be considered polite, but you didn’t seem to mind. “I’m good, and—” You paused mid-sentence as Drew suddenly leaned forward, his brows knitting together.

“Sorry—hold on,” he murmured, his voice dropping lower, softer, as his fingers reached toward the hem of your dress. “You’ve got a little something.” Before you could respond, he gently plucked a stray piece of lint from the fabric, his fingertips brushing ever so lightly against the material.

The touch was fleeting, almost inconsequential, but it sent a quiet thrill up your spine, one you quickly masked with a polite chuckle. “Oh—thanks,” you said, your voice airy as you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “You’re welcome,” Drew replied, his lips curving into a shy grin, his usual confidence momentarily replaced by something more boyish and endearing.

For a moment, you could swear his ears turned a little pink. You leaned back, a knowing smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you studied him. Of course you knew Drew Starkey had a crush on you. It wasn’t exactly a secret.

But there was something undeniably flattering about it—something that made you feel just a bit lighter, a bit more self-assured. However, you'd be lying if you said you didn't have a crush on him. It was Drew Starkey after all.

Your eyes met again, and the silence between you stretched into something that felt almost electric. Both of you wore soft, bashful smiles, the moment teetering between unspoken words and playful tension. Finally, you broke into a small laugh, breaking the spell, and Drew looked away, scratching the back of his neck, his own smile lingering despite himself.

“You know,” you began, shifting slightly in your seat, “it’s kind of funny. We’ve both been at so many of the same events, but we’ve never actually talked until now.” Drew chuckled, his posture relaxing just a little. “I know, right? It’s crazy. First time was… the Glass Onion premiere, wasn’t it?”

You nodded, humming in agreement. “Yeah, I was there supporting Madelyn," Drew spoke. "Ugh, I miss Maddie," You give a small pout as Drew chuckles. “And then Immaculate, I remember standing right behind you in the photo line.” You laughed, your cheeks warming at the memory.

“Oh my god, yes! And somehow, we still didn’t even say hi.” “And then the Queer premiere a couple weeks ago,” Drew said, shaking his head in disbelief. “Right,” you said, leaning forward slightly as your laughter softened into a chuckle. “It’s wild how we’ve been orbiting around each other this whole time.”

“Crazy, huh?” Drew murmured, his voice lower now, his eyes soft as they lingered on you. The way he looked at you was different—not just admiration, but genuine warmth, curiosity, and something else you couldn’t quite place. “How’s everything been?” Drew asks, leaning back in his chair, his voice warm but tinged with curiosity, as if he genuinely wants to know every detail.

“It’s good,” you reply with a soft smile, shifting slightly in your seat. “I’m here in LA, which is nice—” Before you can finish, he interjects, his brow arching in curiosity. “You’re from New England, right?” You click your tongue playfully, tilting your head at him. “I see someone’s done their research, Mr. Starkey,” you tease, flashing him a playful wink.

Drew’s grin widens, and he throws his head back in laughter, the sound rich and easy, like he’s completely at ease for the first time since the cameras started rolling. “I had to, didn’t I? You’re not exactly an open book. I had to dig deep.” “Oh, is that so?” you challenge, your voice lilting with mock skepticism.

“Well, since you’re so curious, tell me—what do you know about New England?” you challenge, leaning forward slightly. He grins, but it’s a little sheepish. “Not much, if I’m honest. You’ll have to fill in the blanks for me. What’s it like there?” Your eyes widen in exaggerated disbelief, your hand fluttering to your chest like you’ve been insulted.

“Wait—you’ve never been? My goodness, Drew! Come with me, and I’ll show you around properly,” you say, your tone teasing but full of warmth. His smile softens, and he leans in just a little. “I’d like that very much,” he says, his voice carrying a quiet sincerity that makes your breath hitch for a fraction of a second. “Well then,” you reply with a chuckle, regaining your composure.

“I think we can organise something. You’re from North Carolina, yeah?” Drew hums in confirmation, his grin widening. “Born and raised. But I gotta admit, New England sounds pretty tempting now.” “It should,” you quip, pointing at him playfully. Then, after a beat, you lean in slightly, an amused gleam in your eye.

“Can I just say—and I’m sure you get this a lot—I’m a huge fan of Outer Banks.” Drew raises an eyebrow, his grin turning slightly bashful as he rubs the back of his neck. “Oh no, don’t tell me you’re team Pogue,” he jokes, but his eyes are fixed on you with a playful sparkle.

You snort softly, clasping your hands together in your lap. “Not quite. But I’ve gotta say, you play Rafe so convincingly. How do you approach a character like Rafe? I mean, you’re, you know… the complete opposite of him.” You chuckle, your words carrying a mix of admiration and disbelief.

Drew leans back in his chair, rubbing his chin thoughtfully before clearing his throat. “Well, Rafe is a challenge, to say the least. He’s not your typical villain. It’s easy to hate him on the surface, but if you dig deeper, he’s this broken guy with so many vulnerabilities. That’s where I try to focus—on making him human. I want people to see why he makes those awful decisions, even if they don’t agree with them. It’s all about balance.”

You nod, your expression softening as you listen. “That’s fascinating,” you say earnestly. “It’s definitely what makes him such a compelling character.” Drew smiles, but you notice something different about his gaze. He isn’t just answering your question—he’s watching you, his eyes holding a softness that makes your heart skip a beat.

Before the moment can linger too long, Drew shifts the focus back to you. “And your character in Ghosted,” he says, his voice warm and curious. “It’s so different from anything you’ve done before. How did you prepare for that role?” You smile at the question, grateful for his genuine interest.

“It was a lot of emotional work,” you admit, leaning back slightly. “She’s so different from me in so many ways. I spent a lot of time understanding her motivations, her fears, and what drives her. It’s a very internal role, so the process was… draining, to say the least. But also rewarding.” Drew’s lips curve into a soft smile as he leans forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees.

“Sounds intense,” he says, his voice quieter now. “I’ve always wondered in the film how you guys manage to keep it together when the emotions run that deep.” You shrug lightly, a thoughtful smile tugging at your lips. “It’s not easy, but that’s the beauty of the craft, isn’t it? Tapping into those emotions and channelling them into something real.”

Drew nods, his expression softening even further. There’s something unspoken in his gaze—something that lingers longer than words can express. “Yeah,” he says finally, his voice dropping just a fraction. “I get that. And for what it’s worth, I think you’re incredible. I’ve seen your work—it’s inspiring.” His words hang in the air, heavy with sincerity, and you can’t help the rush of warmth that floods your chest.

A small, genuine smile spreads across your face. “I could say the same for you,” you reply softly, your eyes meeting his. For a moment, it’s like the rest of the room fades away, leaving just the two of you, sharing something unspoken yet deeply understood. Drew shifts in his seat, leaning forward slightly, his curiosity evident. “So, let’s talk about Saltburn. You played Venetia Catton. How did you even begin to prepare for a role like that?"

You smile, the mention of Saltburn immediately bringing back memories. “Honestly, Venetia was one of the most challenging but rewarding roles I’ve ever taken on. Emerald Fennell has such a sharp, specific vision as a director, and she brought so much depth to every single character. Venetia wasn’t just the surface-level socialite that she might appear to be at first glance. She’s deeply entrenched in this world of privilege, but there’s a kind of desperation underneath it all—this need to hold it all together, to maintain this facade of control.”

Drew nods, his expression thoughtful. “I feel like Emerald has this incredible knack for creating characters who feel both larger than life and painfully real. What was it like working with her?” “Incredible,” you answer without hesitation. “Emerald is so collaborative and detail-oriented, but she also gives you the freedom to bring your own interpretation to the role. She’s this powerhouse of creativity, and you always feel like you’re in safe hands with her. She’s also hilarious—like, incredibly funny—so even on the more intense days, there was always this underlying sense of ease on set.”

Drew smiles at that, clearly invested. “And then there’s the cast. I mean, Rosamund Pike, Barry Keoghan, Jacob Elordi—they’re all such giving actors. What was it like working alongside them?” You exhale softly, recalling the dynamic energy of the cast. “It was surreal, honestly. Rosamund Pike is… well, she’s Rosamund Pike. She’s this commanding presence on set, but she’s also so warm and generous as a scene partner. Barry, on the other hand, is just a chameleon. He’s fearless in the way he approaches his craft, and watching him work was like taking a masterclass every day.”

“And Jacob?” Drew asks, his tone light but curious. “He’s been everywhere lately.” “Jacob’s amazing,” you reply with a smile. “He’s so grounded, which is kind of funny considering the larger-than-life characters he’s been playing lately. But on set, he’s just this really laid-back, thoughtful guy. We had a lot of fun with our scenes together—he brings this kind of effortless charisma that makes everything feel natural.”

Drew leans back in his chair, letting out a low whistle. “That’s a stacked team. No pressure at all, right?” You laugh, shaking your head. “Oh, no pressure whatsoever. Just casually working with some of the most talented people in the industry.” “Well, you pulled it off,” Drew says sincerely. “Venetia felt so fully realised—like, even in her silences, there was so much going on beneath the surface. It was fascinating to watch.”

“Thank you,” you murmur, his compliment catching you off guard. There’s an earnestness in his voice that makes your heart skip a beat. “So,” you say, shifting into the next topic, “you’ve played a lot of interesting characters—Rafe Cameron, of course, but also roles like Zach in The Other Zoey and the projects you’ve got coming up. Do you feel like people expect you to stick to certain kinds of roles because of how iconic Rafe has become?”

Drew’s smile fades just a little, his expression turning thoughtful. He seems to appreciate the question, his blue eyes searching yours for a moment before he answers. “Yeah, there’s definitely that expectation sometimes,” he admits. “Rafe is such a big character, and I think when people see you in one role, they assume that’s all you can do. But as actors, we want to stretch ourselves, you know? Surprise people.”

He pauses, his gaze never leaving yours. “It’s kind of like you, actually,” he adds softly. “You’ve done dramas, you’ve done comedies… you’ve proven that you’re not just one thing. I think that’s what makes people really root for you—you're versatile. You don’t let them put you in a box.” The sincerity in his tone catches you off guard, and you can feel heat rise to your cheeks again. You shift slightly in your seat, trying not to let his words completely throw you off balance.

“That’s… really nice of you to say,” you murmur, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I think that’s the beauty of what we do, right? Showing people different sides of ourselves, through the characters we play.” Drew nods, his eyes softening. “Exactly. You just said it better than I could.” You smile, letting the moment hang between you for just a beat longer than it probably should.

You adjust in your seat, leaning forward slightly as you shift the focus of the interview. “Alright, let’s talk about Queer. You play Eugene, and from everything I’ve heard, it’s such an emotionally rich and complex role. What drew you to it, Drew?" You smile as he laughs. “Honestly, it was the script. You know with it being based on William S. Burroughs’ novel, and the way it explored themes of longing, identity, and self-destruction… it was just so raw. Eugene is such a fascinating character because he’s flawed, but you can’t help but empathise with him. It felt like a challenge I couldn’t pass up.”

You nod, smiling softly. “It sounds like it required you to really dig deep emotionally. Was it intimidating stepping into a story like that?” “Completely,” Drew admits with a laugh. “But it was also the kind of role that forces you to grow as an actor. I had to be vulnerable in a way I hadn’t been before, which was scary but also freeing. And having someone like Luca Guadagnino directing—it felt like a safety net, you know? He creates such a safe, collaborative environment.”

“Luca’s brilliant,” you agree, your voice filled with admiration. “And then there’s Daniel Craig. What was your experience working with him? I mean- I remember working with him on Glass Onion and being blow away by how meticulous he is." Drew grins, a flicker of boyish excitement crossing his face. “Oh, he’s incredible. Daniel is one of those actors who’s just so present in every scene. He has this intensity, but he’s also really generous as a scene partner. He listens, reacts—he makes you feel like what you’re doing really matters.”

You smile, nodding your head, "He's also got such a great sense of humour!" Drew laughs, nodding. “Exactly! Like, he can go from delivering this super heavy, emotional scene to cracking a joke that has the entire crew in stitches. It’s such a unique balance, and it keeps the energy on set really light, even during the intense moments.”

“Do you have a favourite memory with him from filming?” you ask, genuinely curious. “There’s this one scene we did that was really emotionally charged—like, full-on tears and everything,” Drew begins, his smile softening. “After we wrapped the take, I was still kind of in that headspace, and Daniel just clapped me on the shoulder and said, ‘Well, that was bloody exhausting, wasn’t it?’ It snapped me out of it, and we both just started laughing. It was one of those moments where you realise, ‘Okay, this is heavy, but it’s also what we love to do.’”

You laugh at the image of Daniel’s bluntness, shaking your head. “That’s so him. He has a way of grounding you, doesn’t he?” “Completely,” Drew agrees. “And honestly, having him on set made me feel like I had to step up my game. He’s such a pro, and you can’t help but want to match that level of commitment.”

You tilt your head, studying him for a moment. “It sounds like Queer really pushed you as an actor, in the best way.” “It did,” Drew says earnestly. “And, you know, hearing you talk about working with Daniel—what was it like for you? I mean, I imagine Glass Onion had a very different vibe, but I’m sure he brought that same energy.”

“Oh, absolutely,” you reply. “Daniel has this way of making everyone feel like they’re part of something special. And with Glass Onion, there was this playful energy because the story is so twisty and fun, but Daniel was always so focused and intentional with every scene.” Drew leans in slightly, clearly fascinated. “Did you ever have one of those moments with him where you just stopped and thought, ‘Wow, I’m working with James Bond’?”

You laugh, nodding. “More than once! It’s impossible not to. But then you get to know him, and he’s just… Daniel. Down-to-earth, funny, and incredibly kind. It makes you forget about the whole ‘James Bond’ thing—at least for a little while.” Drew grins. “That’s good to know. I feel like we’ve both been lucky to work with him, even if I’m still a little starstruck.”

“That’s what Daniel Craig does to you, ladies and gentlemen,” you teased, your laughter light as you pointed at the camera, winking playfully. Drew’s amused chuckle followed, a soft sound that matched the warmth in your tone. The atmosphere of the interview had shifted, the playful banter between the two of you creating an easy camaraderie as the conversation drew to a close.

“Well, I think we’ve discovered we have a lot in common after all,” Drew said, his smile widening as he turned toward you. His eyes glinted with a mix of amusement and genuine appreciation. “This has been a great pairing, truly.”

Your smile softened as you met his gaze, the connection between the two of you almost palpable. “I think so too,” you responded, your voice light and sincere, a soft chuckle escaping you as your gaze lingered on him. “Very great pairing,” you added, your words more than just agreement—there was an unspoken understanding, a mutual respect that hung in the air.

Drew’s smile widened slightly at your reply, the chemistry between the two of you becoming more evident as the final moments of the interview came into focus. Despite the cameras and the public personas, there was something undeniably real in the exchange, something that hinted at more than just a professional connection.

[greengoblinswifey]

Sweet Revenge—Salesman x Fem!Reader

summary— A heated argument with the salesman, the smug Squid Game recruiter, turns into a rough and unexpected night of fucking, leaving you questioning your entire life choices.

warnings— enemies to lovers, arguing, fingering, degradation, praise kink, face slapping, choking, hair pulling, rough sex, unprotected sex, creampie, slight aftercare.

The knock on the hotel door was loud and sharp. The Salesman, ever composed, adjusted his tie before opening it, expecting room service instead, he found you.

You stood there, furious, with a fire in your eyes that caught him off guard. “You didn’t think I’d fucking find you, did you?” you spat, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation.

He closed the door calmly, his lips curling into that infuriating smirk. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t curious about what brought you here.”

“You know exactly why I’m here,” you hissed, looking up at him. “You ruined lives. Mine included. I want answers.”

He tilted his head, his expression as unreadable as usual. “I gave you a choice, didn’t I? Everyone who plays has a choice.”

“Don’t give me that shit. You knew what you were doing. You preyed on desperate people. And now, you’re going to pay for it,” you snapped, hands clenched into fists.

His laugh was low and soft, infuriatingly amused. “And how exactly do you plan to make me pay?”

Your breath hitched as he stepped closer, his presence overwhelming. “B-by holding you accountable,” you managed, though your voice wavered.

“If that’s what you want, then go ahead. But something tells me this isn’t just about revenge,” he leaned down, his voice a murmur.

You hated how his confidence pissed you off, how his piercing gaze seemed to strip you naked. You hated how cocky he was.

“Stop fucking playing games,” you demanded.

“But sweetheart, games are what I do best,” he replied, his smirk deepening. “Tell me, are you here to hurt me or for something else?”

You hated him. You hated his arrogance, his calm demeanor, the way he seemed untouchable. But more than that, you hated the way he looked at you, like he knew exactly how much power he had over you.

“Shut up,” you snapped, grabbing his tie and pulling him down to your level. His eyes widened just slightly before his smirk returned. “No more games. No more excuses. You don’t get to control this anymore.”

For a moment, he seemed to consider your words. Then, in one swift motion, he closed the space between you, his lips capturing yours. It was fierce and unrelenting, a battle for control neither of you wanted to lose. You shoved him back, your chest heaving as you glared at him. “You think this fixes everything?”

“No,” he said, his eyes darkening. “But I think you’re acting like a bitch because you haven’t been properly fucked.”

His hands found your waist, pulling you closer as your resistance faltered. You hated him, truly, deeply hated him. But your body betrayed you, melting into his touch, craving more of what you couldn’t admit you wanted.

The kiss was so hot, igniting a storm of emotions you couldn’t tame. His lips moved against yours with a roughness that made your head spin. You pressed closer, your fingers tangling in his neatly styled hair, ruining the composure he seemed to hold onto so tightly.

But he wasn’t just kissing you, the asshole was claiming you. His hands roamed with purpose, sliding down your back before gripping your ass firmly. Then, his fingers hiked your dress higher.

The sound of fabric tearing ripped through the air, and you gasped, pulling back just enough to glare at him. “What the fuck?”

He smirked, holding up the remnants of your thong like a trophy. “Who did you wear this for?”

“Shut up,” you shot back, your voice trembling with frustration and something else.

“Oh, I see,” he murmured, leaning closer. “You wore it for me, didn’t you? My desperate little slut couldn’t help herself.”

Before you could retort, his hand slid between your thighs, rough fingers finding your pussy. You gasped again, your hands clutching at his shoulders as he thrust two fingers inside without warning.

“Motherfuck—”

“Quiet,” he commanded, his. “You’ll take what I give you like the slut you are. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

His fingers moved in sharp, unrelenting thrusts, each movement pushing you closer to the edge. “You’re such a mess,” he taunted, his other hand gripping your throat to make you look at him. “All this attitude, and for what? You’ve been waiting for me to just ruin you, haven’t you?”

You bit your lip, refusing to answer, but your body betrayed you, drenching his fingers and fluttering around them. He chuckled, clearly pleased by your reaction.

“Come on,” he taunted, his thrusts quickening. “Let me hear you say it slut. Tell me how badly you wanted this.”

“Fuck, I—” your words broke with a moan, unable to fight the pleasure building inside you.

“Say it,” he demanded, his voice leaving no room for argument.

“Fine!” you cried out, your resolve crumbling. “I wanted it, okay? I wanted this!”

“Good girl,” he murmured, a satisfied smirk on his face. His fingers moved impossibly faster, pushing you right to the brink. “Now, don’t hold back. Let me see you cum.”

And unfortunately, you did. Your body shook as the coil snapped, waves of pleasure crashing over you. He didn’t stop, drawing out every last tremor until you were left trembling in his arms.

When you finally caught your breath, he leaned in, pressing a kiss to your neck. “That’s my good fucking slut,” he whispered.

You lifted your palm and the moment your hand connected with his face, the sound of the slap echoed in the room. His head tilted slightly from the force, but the reaction wasn’t what you expected. The salesman didn’t look angry. Nah, he looked, amused?

A dark chuckle left his lips, and his gaze locked with yours, sharp. “Again,” he said, his voice taunting.

Your chest heaved with frustration, your fingers trembling, but you raised your hand and slapped him again. This time, the impact left a faint flush on his cheek. He didn’t flinch. Instead, he smirked, that expression driving you to the edge.

“Feel better now?” he teased, his tone filled with mockery.

“Go to hell,” you spat, but before you could say more, he grabbed your wrist and spun you around with little effort.

“Careful,” he murmured against your ear as he pushed you onto the bed, your stomach pressing into the mattress. His weight settled over you, keeping you firmly in place. “You might make me think you enjoy this.”

Your breath hitched as you felt the press of his bulge against you. The sound of his belt unbuckling sent a jolt of anticipation through your body, though you refused to let him see it.

“Don’t even,” you warned, your voice trembling as you turned your head slightly to glare at him.

“Still talking back,” he muttered, his hands gripping your hips firmly. “I’m going to ruin that little pussy of yours.”

“You’re so full of—”

Before you could finish, he leaned down, his breath hot against your ear. “Go ahead,” he growled. “Say something else. Curse me out. I love it”

“Fuck you jackass,” you hissed, trying to wriggle free, but his grip only tightened.

“Good girl,” he mocked, his voice dripping with amusement. “You’re so predictable. So easy to rile up. But I know what you really want.”

“You don’t know anything,” you snapped, but your defiance faltered when he pushed against you harder, his body flush against yours.

“You’re shaking,” he whispered. “Is it fear or excitement? Maybe both?”

Your heart raced and you shuddered as he pressed a kiss to the back of your neck. “Don’t fight it, sweetheart. You and I both know this is exactly what you were begging for.”

He didn’t wait any longer. His hands gripped your hips firmly, pulling you back on his hard cock as he pushed forward. The sound of his sharp intake of breath filled the air as he settled into a rhythm, steady at first but quickly turning into thrusts that were rough and relentless.

“You fucking feel that?” he murmured. “This is what your little pussy has been begging for, isn’t it?”

Your breath hitched, your fingers curling into the bedsheets. “I—” you tried to protest, but the words stuck in your throat as he fucked you faster, each thrust sending a spark of pleasure up your spine.

“You can’t even speak,” he mocked, a dark chuckle vibrating against the back of your neck as he leaned down. “What happened to all that attitude, huh?”

“Shut up,” you hissed, trying to hold on to some semblance of control, but the way he pounded you, relentless, purposeful, was breaking you down.

“Oh no, sweetheart,” he said as he pressed kisses along your neck, his teeth grazing your skin making you shiver. “You’re not in charge anymore. You’re mine. My slut.”

Your defiance wavered as a moan slipped from your lips, louder than you intended. His hand slid around your waist, pressing against your lower stomach, holding you steady as he angled his cock deeper.

“That’s it,” he growled. “Good girl. Taking my dick so well.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, the pleasure overwhelming as he kept his pace steady but unforgiving. “F-fuck,” you breathed, your voice shaking.

“What is it, sweetheart?” he teased, his lips brushing against your ear. “You want more? Say it.”

Your pride battled with your desire, but the way he stretched your pussy, the way he spoke to you, it was too much. “Yes,” you gasped, your voice barely above a whisper. “Harder.”

“I didn’t hear you,” he said, a smirk evident in his voice.

“Harder!” you cried out, your hands gripping the sheets as he complied, his thrusts turning harder, deeper.

“There she is,” he murmured, his lips trailing kisses down your neck, his free hand tangling in your curls. “That’s my slut. So pretty like this, falling apart for me.”

“I—I can’t!” you cried, your body betrayed you, your legs trembling as he pushed you closer to the edge.

“Yes, you can,” he encouraged, his tone softening just slightly. “Give it to me. I want to feel you cum.”

And then it happened. A surge of bliss so overwhelming it left you a moaning mess, your body trembling beneath him as you soaked the sheets and his cock. He moaned deeply, his movements faltering as he chased his own orgasm.

“Good girl,” he praised, his voice low and breathless as he kissed the back of your neck, holding you close as he came, ropes and ropes of his cum spilling into you.

The room fell silent except for the sound of your ragged breaths, and as he finally emptied every drop of cum in you, he pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder. “You were perfect,” he murmured, his hand stroking your back as he pulled you into his arms, his lips brushing against your forehead.

What the hell had just happened? What did you just do? You’d crossed a line, broke a boundary you didn’t even realize existed until now.

“Fuck you,” you muttered, your voice filled with embarrassment and disbelief.

The salesman only chuckled as his fingers gently traced circles along your bare skin. “That’s not what you were saying a few minutes ago,” he teased.

You scoffed, covering your face with your hands as if that would erase what just happened, or his cum still swirling in your pussy. “Oh my God,” you whispered, more to yourself than to him. “What the fuck did I just do?”

He pulled back slightly to turn you toward him. His eyes were dark but warm, his smirk still in place as he brushed a strand of hair from your face. “You lived a little,” he said, his voice gentler now. “And let me tell you—you can take dick.”

You glared at him, though the effect was dulled by the way your body heated up. “Shut up,” you snapped, shoving at his chest weakly.

He only laughed, pulling you tighter against him. “You’ll thank me later,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple.

You lay there in his arms, your mind racing as the reality of what just happened settled over you. How had you let this happen? How had he managed to get under your skin like this? The weight of what you’d just done was impossible to ignore, but as he held you close, his steady presence and casual confidence made it hard to fully regret it, no matter how much you wanted to.

[mommypieck]

⌗︙・brothel owner geto ⸜⸜・

brothel owner geto says he doesn't have a favorite worker... until it comes from you. his whole face lights uo when you come running to sit on his lap. he opens his arms so you can jump into them, showing geto how much money you made. as much as he wants to listen to you rant about different costumers, he's more interested in that bra you are wearing. his hands cup your breasts and he squeezes them together, few bills falling from your bra.

"is that a new set?" he asks with his hands still groping your tits. you don't mind, you love when mr. geto touches you.

"mhm," you nod your head, throwing your arms around his neck, "i picked it because it's your favorite color." suguru almost melts when you say that.

he takes your hand, leading down back to the apartments where you take care of the clients. when the door closes, he has his mouth on yours. he kisses you hungrily, opening the bra to let your boobs free. he puts pressure on your shoulders, telling you to kneel in front of him. you smirk, knowing exactly what he wants to do. you pull his pants down, his cock hitting you in the face. it's your favorite cock.

"how much do they pay you for blowjob, 30$?" he asks you and you not. he sends you a sweet smile, "i have to raise your prices."

he thrusts his cock in your mouth, making you choke a bit. after all, he's the biggest cock you take at this job. you lick at his base, loving how heavy he feels in your mouth. geto sets his own pace, thrusting in and out of your mouth just like he likes it.

all those dirty man always wait for you to do something but geto is confident and he knows what he wants. that's what you love about him.

your hand cups his balls, stroking it while he uses your mouth like a toy. you close your eyes, something about him just using you is so calming to you.

geto thought about it a lot and maybe it's town to do what he wanted to do for a long time.

"open your mouth." he tells you, tapping his cock on your tongue before he shoots his cum deep inside, some of it landing on your face.

that's it, he decided what he wants to do with you.

"baby, do you want to only work for me?" his question confuses you a little, you're working for him right now.

"but i am working for you." he chuckles at your response.

"i mean only for me. i would be the only one fucking you."

you furrow your eyebrows. does he mean that he wants you to be his personal escort?

"but im gonna miss the sex." you whine. he smiles at you, "don't worry, baby. we're gonna have a lot of sex. maybe i'll even get you pregnant. you're gonna understand once you're with me."

[dandey-lion]

After defeating Pariah Dark, Phantom -High King of the Infinite Realms- joins the JL or YJL.

Danny is a great addition to the team, he’s surrounded by other people with powers (even if they didn’t have to die to get them), he doesn’t have to hide who he is. Nobody is hunting him anymore. The Anti-Ecto acts have been abolished and so has the GIW. He can still help people but the pressure isn’t just on him anymore. His parents accept him. Danny is happy.

But one day, one fateful day…

Pariah rises again.

The magic users are scrambling. The JL and YJ are frantic. Danny is…

Pretty calm, actually. A little annoyed, perhaps.

That kinda tracks. He’s the high king of the infinite realms and all the dead. He’s defeated Pariah before- and now he’s older, more experienced, with a team that he’s never had before. He’s explored his powers and authority to an extent his past self could only dream of.

So when Pariah Dark, former Tyrant of the Dead, storms the watchtower where the heroes have gathered, they’re a little off-put by it but ready to defend their home with all their might- a newfound confidence from Phantom’s nonchalance.

But who would’ve guessed that Pariah Dark, former Tyrant of the dead, would ask Phantom..

If he could adopt him?

Danny guessed, it seemed.

“No.” Danny glared at him.

“I can give you-“

“I don’t want anything from you, you frootloop. Piss off.” Danny said pointedly, tapping his foot impatiently.

“I can offer you wisdom to lead your kingdom that you won’t find anywhere else!” Pariah said exasperated, waving his arms around.

“I don’t want a tyrant’s advice.” Danny sneered. The rest of the heroes exchanged glances. This certainly wasn’t on anybody’s bingo card.

“Alright, that’s fair, but-“

“Ive been ruling my kingdom just fine. Piss off.” Danny jabbed a finger at him. “I will eat your core if you ask again.” Pariah paled, (as much as a ghost could), then grumbled about getting him eventually before finally, finally leaving in a swirling, neon green portal.

Danny left in one of his own, after bidding goodbye to the rest of them. Nobody wanted to ask what that was about. He seemed pissed.

.

A little while later, the heroes finally got around to processing what exactly happened that morning.

The.. former king of the dead, known tyrant, the one who Danny defeated.. came back to ask??? If he could adopt Danny???? Again???? As in he tried asking before????????

There was much pandemonium for the heroes that fateful day.

[nanaslutt]

At your mercy

ʚ pairing: sylus x reader

ʚ cont: fem reader, switch!sylus & reader, “good boy” kink, dirty talk, teasing, restraints, riding, masturbation, finger sucking, nipple play

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI

“So…” You drawl, prowling around Sylus like a predator. He’s strapped to a chair, his arms bound behind his back while his legs are secured around the legs of the chair, spread wide. “How does it feel to be the one tied up and at my mercy?” Your foot presses between his spread legs, and his hips leave the chair as he scoots down, giving you more access between them.

Tilting his head back, his crimson gaze rakes down the length of your leg hungrily. “I’m at your mercy now?” He hums a thoughtful sound, gaze laser focused on your heel clad foot that slowly inches towards the bulge between his thighs. “Have you thought to consider I’m allowing myself to be at your mercy?”

Narrowing your eyes, you place your foot back on the ground and stand between his legs. You reach out to touch his chest, finger trailing from the column of his pale neck to where the first button of his shirt is undone. He gasps. “You do look like someone who is awfully willing to submit, right now.”

He laughs, but it sounds breathy when you teasing undo the buttons down his torso. Each scrape of your nails against sensitive skin makes his breath hitch. “Perhaps I’m being so still because the look on your face is too sweet to ruin. You look awfully confident right now, kitten.” 

You hum, peeling open his shirt and pulling it out from where it’s tucked into his pants. It flares out, exposing his impossibly defined abs, and a chest that is rising and falling too quickly, betraying his calm demeanor. But you could tell his impatience from the bulge in his pants as well–and from how he was spreading his legs wider, he wasn’t ashamed of his reaction. “Having the leader of Onychinus like this…”

A half sigh half grumble vibrates in his throat when you undo the belt around his hips, clanking noisily in his quiet room, save for the soft music playing on vinyl in the background. “Heady? Your cheeks are flushed.”

His hips raise when you slide the belt through the loops, gathering it in your hands before discarding it to the floor. “You should see yourself.” He watches with rapt attention as you lean in and brush a finger over his pert nipple. He gasps at the featherlight touch, abdomen clenching. “You’re even red here.”

Sylus grunts, and the excitement in his pants twitches hard enough to be shown through his dark pants. With each touch, his eyes grow more lidded, until he almost looks tired, but you know he’s anything but. 

Flicking your finger over his nipple for the last time, he grunts and jerks against his restraints when you pull away. “Sensitive?” You ask.

His smirk is dizzying. “I enjoy everything you do to me.”

With a mischievous look on your face, you wrap your arms around his waist and settle into his lap. His reaction is immediate. His deep groan finds its way to your core, making you clench around nothing. You can feel him so clearly under you, throbbing and twitching like crazy.

Lust filled eyes meet yours. “Getting excited? I thought this was supposed to be torturous for me?” He gasps, lips parting when you roll your hips against his bulge, trying not to show how much it affects you.

“So this isn’t? Me grinding on you like this, knowing we're so close, yet so far…” You lean in and lower your voice, speaking against the shell of his ear. “Knowing I’m dripping for you and you can do nothing about it, because I am in control… That isn’t torturous?”

When he doesn’t respond, you pull back and smile at the drunk look on his face. All teasing is gone, the look he gives you is almost scary, intimidating, and if he wasn’t restrained, you might have lost confidence. But you were in charge, so he could stare at you with pleading looks filled with dark promises all he wanted.

He parts his lips when you lean in, expecting a kiss, but you divert to his neck instead, laying kiss after kiss in his most sensitive points. He groans, and you can feel the vibrations pressed against you. His hips thrust upwards, and it feels too good to reprimand him verbally, so you instead sink your teeth into his skin. 

His reaction is immediate. He laughs through a groan, biceps straining when he struggles. “So rough, kitten.” He thrusts his hip upwards again, and you respond with another bite. He grunts, gasping heavily. “So that’s it, this is my punishment for being greedy.”

Pulling away, your lips feel swollen when you look down at him. “And you’re not being a very good boy.” He groans at the name, and something inside your head clicks open and malfunctions. 

Sylus. The leader of Onychinus, just moaned at being called a good boy.

“You moved on purpose because you wanted me to bite you, didn’t you?” You ignored the feeling of losing control in your mind, pretending to have composure and not give away that you had probably soaked through your panties.

Sylus cocks his head to the side, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Pinching his chin, you tilt his head upwards, fingers finding his neglected nipple at the same time. His stuttered, deep groan and half eye roll nearly makes you cum. “Good boy’s don't lie, Sylus.”

He smiles, and he looks ruined. “Then punish me. I’ve been bad.”

It took an insurmountable amount of strength not to whip his dick out and sit on it in one go. He had to be punished first.

He groaned when you slid off his lap, purposefully pressing down on him while you did. Then, you dropped to your knees and parted his thighs. “Careful kitten, you don’t look like you’re getting ready to punish me down there.”

You smiled, not diverting your eyes away even while your fingers found his fly and unzipped it. His legs twitched. You pulled his slacks down a few inches, with his help of him raising his hips. They sat low on his ass, giving you just enough room to pull him out. But not before a little teasing.

You ran your fingers along the soft white hairs on his pelvis, dangerously closed to the half slack-half boxer covered monster in his pants. He thrust upwards, and you retaliated by pinching what little fat he had on the side of his hips, making his cock twitch.

“Pinching now?” He gasped, the deep baritone of his voice growing more gravely with his arousal.

You ran your hands up and down his muscled thighs, occasionally teasing his pelvis with your nails. “Down here didn’t seem to hate it so much.” Pressing the points of your nails against his naval, you scratched down his skin with little force, enough to leave red marks on his pale skin. His gasp was loud, followed by smaller grunts and heavy breathing. “Yeah, I don’t think you hate pain at all.”

He laughed at that, the sound expensive and rich. “I told you once before, kitten, I like everything you do to me. Scratch me, bite me, tease me, do whatever you want with me.”

Eyes on his, you dipped your fingers under the band of his boxers and grabbed the base of his cock. He inhaled sharply, like he couldn’t get enough air into his lungs fast enough. “Even if I don’t put this inside me tonight?”

His eyes flickered to your hand that pulled him out of his boxers, pants still on his waist. He looked good like this, half dressed and disheveled, with a drunk expression. “I’m not worried about that.” He replied confidently.

When you released him, he throbbed repeatedly, pearls of pre-cum beading on his tip before dripping onto his pants, leaving a sticky mess. “So confident.” Laying your head on his thigh just inches from his length. You caress his cock starting from the underside with a single finger, drawing it upwards until you reach the wet tip.

Sylus is breathing noisily now, chest rising quickly with his suppressed moans. His bottom lip gets pulled between his teeth when you rub his wetness around the head. “Does this feel good, Sylus?”

He smiles, and it’s a beautiful thing. “Very good, kitten. Your fingers are so soft.” His heavy arousal bobs in front of you when you continue to collect his wetness on your fingers. 

Pulling away, you sit back on your ass and spread your thighs, rubbing his pre together on the tips of your fingers. Sylus continues to spill on his pants, breathing heavily as he watches you. “What are you doing, sweetie?”

“You said my fingers were soft, I wanted to see for myself.” His lips part when you lift your dress and expose your panty-clad pussy to him, which is of course, soaked. You lift the band and slide your fingers in, not moving the fabric so he can see.

You groan in unison when you rub his mess around on your clit. Sylus struggles more now, looking pained to watch you touch yourself in front of him. 

You gasp, running your fingers through your folds, spreading your legs to give him no real view. “You were right, s–so soft.”

His eyes are glued to your cunt, biceps bulge with his incessant pulling at his restraints, and the pool of cum on his pants is now so big it looks like he already came all over himself. “I have much, much more where that came from, sweetie.” He purrs.

You dip your fingers inside, and he moans watching you, even if his view is muted through the fabric. “Fuck.”

“I could fill you with me.” He says, groaning though you don’t miss the plea in his tone. “Anything you want.” He says, before shaking his head. “I know it wants to feel me, such a hot little thing, begging for me to fill it.”

You gasp, plunging two fingers in and out of yourself. “Sylus.”

Sylus’s gasps are stuttered. “Yes, kitten, let me help you. Use me. Sit on me and take everything I have to give.”

You open your eyes and meet his gaze, realizing you probably look as needy as him now. 

He doesn’t look cocky when you pull your fingers out, though his fingers do lock onto them. He doesn’t even look triumphant when you spread your thighs around his hips and grip his base, pressing his soaked tip against your equally soaked entrance.

“What do you want?” You ask, gripping his cheeks with the hand you were masterbating with.

He grunts as you rub his tip through your folds, using him to rub your clit. “I want you to use me.”

You notch his head at your hole. “That’s it? Even if I finish before you and decide I don’t want your release? You'll take it?”

He nods, throat bobbing as he stares at your lips like a man starved. “Yes.” His voice is all gravel. “Use me.”

So you do.

Sliding onto him is bliss and agony, blending and swirling into pure relief in your gut. Sylus groans with you as you take him all at once, until you're seated on the mess of his pants. You don't spare a second before you hook your ankles on his thighs and start bouncing.

“Good boy,” you sigh, mess covered fingers slipping into his mouth. Sylus smiles around them before sucking, cleaning your fingers.

You impale yourself onto him over and over again, loving how good it hurts, loving how deep he fills you in his position. Your eyes roll back in your head and your head falls back. One hand steadies on his shoulder while the other pushes deeper into his mouth. He doesn’t even gag when you hit the back of his throat, but his eyes do water.

Yanking your fingers out, they’re sloppier than they were before, but Sylus has a big stupid grin on his face that wasn’t there before. “I could drown in you while you devour me.” Crimson eyes caress your face the way his hands would. “You look so beautiful taking what you need, what you deserve.”

“And what’s that?” You gasp, fingers finding your clit and rubbing hastily when his cock repeatedly thrusts into that sweet spot in your inner walls.

He leans in and whispers against your lips. “Everything.” Then, his mouth is on yours, and you devour each other. It’s a battle for dominance, one neither is winning nor losing, but its so aggressive and feral and needy, and you fucking love it.

His and your sounds slip from the cracks of your kiss, and the wetness on his thighs only makes you get there even faster.

Blindly reaching behind you, you dip your hand into his boxers and find his balls, pulling them out with his cock you cradle them in your hand. Sylus breaks from the kiss to hiss through his teeth.

You grab his jaw. “Bad boy, did I say you could stop kissing me?” He shakes his head, a proud expression on his face, lips curling up at the sides. “You said you would give me everything.” You whisper against him, rocking your hips in a wavelike motion, stoking that fire low in your stomach. “And you’re going to give it to me.”

Sylus nods, “Yes ma’am.” He huskily grunts, before taking your lips once more. The kiss is louder and more urgent than before, and saliva spills from your lips.

Rolling his balls in your hand, they quickly become wet with the two of you dripping from where you’re connected. With your finger between you and your hand on his neck, it doesn’t take much longer before you're tipping over the edge.

“Sylus!” You gasp, “H-help me.” 

You start to shake, orgasming around his cock, and he grunts, balls falling from your hands as you wrap your arms around his neck and let him fuck you through your orgasm.

“Can I cum?” He groans, hips losing their rhythm. “I need to stop now if I can’t cum.”

You shake your head, twitching and writhing from the prolonged high as his thrusts get rougher and rougher. “Give me it. Give me everything you have.”

His moans hitch, and a loud snapping sound makes you flinch. His arms are around you then, and hes using the leverage to lift you up and down as he fucks his cum inside you. His thrusts are sloppy and mean as he jerks and twitches wildly, fucking his orgasm as deep as he can inside you.

The two of you are holding each other tightly when he comes down. His thighs shake violently under you, and you can feel his cock throb inside you, softening with his released load.

“Are you alright, sweetie?” He whispers into your hair. You nod, nails digging into his back, and he grunts. “I hope you’re satisfied, because I think I really did give you everything just then.”

You laugh before pulling back, locking your legs around his waist. You both gasp when his cock jolts inside you. “Maybe I should, after all, you did break your restraints.” You raise an eyebrow at him with mock irritation.

He simply smiles, caressing stray hair from your face before tucking it behind your ear. “Do what you want with me, but don’t be surprised when you ring me out again and I’m dry.”

That makes you snort. “Would it hurt? To cum like that?” He goes to answer and you press your fingers to his lips. “I almost forgot about your fondness for pain.”

His laugh is deep, and it warms not only your heart but your entire body. Then, he leans back and gestures to his body. “As you wish.”

You laugh, falling into his chest as his humor blends with yours. You hold each other like that until the ache between your legs from him is too much, and he lifts you off.

[anhedoniawrites]

it’s not a date, we just kinda fuck around.

gif by @reidgif

june baby - victoria canal

Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU Reader.

summary: the two youngest BAU agents go on a first date

genre: fluff💌

word count: 8.5k

warnings: no use of y/n, proofread, none! (this is all foreplay for the smut that’s coming)

masterlist!

You never thought Spencer Reid would actually work up the courage to ask you out. Yet here you were, standing in your apartment with only ten minutes to spare, staring at your closet like it held the answer to life itself. Nothing seemed good enough, and you still had no idea what to wear. If you’d had even the slightest inkling that this day would come, you would have pre-planned outfits for every possible scenario—a casual coffee shop, a romantic dinner, even an impromptu museum date. But you hadn’t, because as much as you’d daydreamed about it, you never thought it would happen.

Spencer Reid had always been a harmless work crush. Brilliant, kind, and charming in his uniquely awkward way, he was the type of man you admired from a distance, assuming he was far too shy—or uninterested—to make a move. Yet somehow, against all odds, you were, nervously getting ready to go on a date with him.

The memory of how it all unfolded still made you smile. You’d been in the work kitchen, fixing your usual afternoon coffee, when Spencer had wandered in with his signature blend of distracted focus and nervous energy. You glanced up as he approached, expecting nothing more than a quick hello and maybe some small talk about the latest case. Instead, he surprised you.

“Hi,” he said, his voice softer than usual, almost hesitant. He stood a little too close to the coffee pot, fiddling with the lid as if it held the courage he needed.

“Hey, Spencer,” you replied, smiling warmly.

They chatted about nothing in particular—books, coffee, the endless intricacies of caffeine preferences—until, without warning, he blurted out the question.

“Would you, um… would you ever want to get coffee together? Like, outside of work?”

Your heart skipped a beat. It wasn’t a grand gesture or a sweeping declaration, but it was undeniably Spencer—quiet, earnest, and completely endearing. You’d barely managed to contain your excitement as you said yes, feeling like a teenager with a crush all over again.

Now, standing in your room, you glanced at the clock. Seven minutes. You grabbed a dress—something simple yet flattering—and slipped it on, your mind racing. You’d been waiting for this moment since the day you joined the team, and now that it was yours, you couldn’t help but wonder how the evening would go. Would he be his usual awkward self? Would he surprise you again with something bold and unexpected?

Whatever happened, you knew one thing: Spencer Reid had already managed to surprise you once.

Seven agonising minutes—each second stretched out like an eternity. The silence was suffocating, gnawing at you from the inside out, until the sudden knock at the door broke the tension. Your heart leapt in your chest. He was here. Spencer was finally here, and your nerves threatened to spill over.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, before opening the door with a forced smile. The sight of him standing there, his hands fidgeting nervously, only made your own anxiety rise. He looked just as uneasy, maybe even more so. His usually confident posture was slightly hunched, his eyes darting to the floor, avoiding yours for a moment before he met your gaze.

“Hey, Spence,” you greeted, your voice trembling slightly despite your best efforts to sound calm.

“Hey, I- um…” Spencer hesitated, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. His voice was soft, uncertain. He stepped forward, pulling a bouquet of lilies from behind his figure. The delicate white flowers were a perfect match for your taste, and you couldn’t help but smile, your nerves easing just a little. “These are for you.”

You felt a flutter in your chest, your smile widening. “Spence, you shouldn’t have,” you said, reaching out to take the bouquet, feeling a warmth in your fingertips as you touched the smooth, delicate petals. The scent of the lilies was intoxicating, and for a moment, you were lost in the fragrance.

He shifted awkwardly, his eyes darting around as if searching for something to say. “I, uh… I thought you’d like them.”

You stepped aside, gesturing for him to come in. “You thought right. Come in, Spence.”

He followed you into your apartment, his presence oddly comforting despite the tension still hanging between them. You quickly moved toward the kitchen, trying to focus on something, anything, to distract yourself from the storm of emotions churning inside you.

As you walked, you couldn’t help but feel a little embarrassed. The apartment was far from pristine. The cluttered coffee table, the dishes piled up in the sink—it wasn’t the welcoming space you’d imagined showing him. “I’m so sorry the place is a mess,” you said, your cheeks warming with self-consciousness. You carefully set the lilies down on the counter, your hands trembling slightly as you arranged them.

Spencer’s eyes softened as he glanced around, a small, understanding smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “It’s fine,” he reassured you, his voice gentle. “You should see my place.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle, the sound soft and nervous. As you filled a vase with water, you thought back to the little things he had taught you, like how to properly cut the stems of flowers to help them last longer. You carefully angled the scissors and snipped each stem at a diagonal, the sound of the cut echoing in the quiet kitchen. You remembered him telling you that the angled cut would help the flowers drink better, and you did it now without thinking. The thought of him lingered in your mind as you worked, a smile playing on your lips.

The bouquet was finally settled in the vase, its elegant white petals standing out against the cool glass. You stepped back, admiring the flowers, but it was Spencer’s presence in the room that made everything feel just a little bit brighter.

“Much better. Thank you, Spence,” you said, your voice soft with appreciation as you glanced at the flowers on the kitchen counter. Their vibrant white petals stood out against the cool, clear glass of the vase, the room suddenly feeling a little warmer, a little brighter. You grabbed your bag from the chair, the familiar weight of it grounding you. You turned to face him, your nerves still fluttering, but your excitement growing as the moment approached.

“You ready?” you asked, your voice light but with an undercurrent of anticipation.

Spencer hesitated, his gaze flickering to the floor for a split second. He wasn’t sure if he was ever truly ready, especially not when it came to dates. His stomach twisted in knots, but that nervous energy was overshadowed by the excitement of being with you, of sharing a moment like this.

“Yeah, absolutely,” he replied, a nervous but genuine smile tugging at his lips.

With that, they were out the door, stepping into the crisp air of Washington. The city felt alive around them, the hum of the streets, the distant chatter of people, the soft rustling of leaves in the wind. They strolled side by side, both holding their coffee cups, yours an iced concoction with a splash of cream, his steaming hot with a swirl of cinnamon. He wasn’t usually one for aimless wandering, but as he looked over at you, he realized that this moment was worth it.

Your face, illuminated by the golden afternoon sun, was pure contentment. Your eyes sparkled as they took in the world around you, lighting up at every little thing. Whether it was a street performer, a stray cat lazily sunning itself, or the way the city skyline framed the horizon, you had a way of making the mundane seem magical. And he, well, he would do anything to keep seeing that smile on your face, to be the reason your eyes shone with that infectious joy.

As they passed a little street corner, your gaze drifted across the road, and your eyes lit up once again. There, nestled between a café and a bookstore, was a small record store with a neon sign flashing softly in the window.

“Can we go in?” you asked, your voice filled with excitement, your fingers already tugging gently at his sleeve.

Spencer followed your gaze, his heart doing a little flip at the eagerness in your voice. You had that effect on him—the way you made even the simplest moments feel special. “Of course,” he said with a smile, his voice soft but sincere. “Lead the way.”

And just like that, they crossed the street together, the world outside fading into the background as they stepped into the warmth of the record store. The air smelled faintly of old vinyl and coffee, and the soft hum of music played in the background, creating the perfect atmosphere for them to lose themselves in.

“Smell that?” you asked, your nose lifting to the air as you inhaled deeply, a mischievous grin tugging at your lips. “That’s the smell of the best way to listen to music.” The scent of aged vinyl, dust, and nostalgia filled the space, wrapping around them like a cozy blanket. You laughed at yourself, a light, airy sound that seemed to match the atmosphere of the record store perfectly. Spencer couldn’t help but join in, his laugh a little quieter but no less genuine, his eyes softening as he watched you.

“You spend too much time with Rossi,” Spencer teased, his fingers flicking through the rows of records, his gaze scanning the colourful covers. He was looking for something—anything—that caught his attention, but his mind was more on the way you lit up in places like this, surrounded by things you loved.

You raised an eyebrow, feigning offence as you met his gaze, your hand pausing mid-air over a stack of albums. “I am offended by your words, Dr. Reid,” you replied, your tone playful, your eyes sparkling with a teasing edge.

Spencer smiled, the edges of his mouth curling up into something warmer as he continued flipping through the records, pretending to be serious. “You should be. That’s a direct quote from Rossi himself,” he said, holding up a record sleeve and giving it a quick glance before setting it back down.

Your laugh filled the space again, bright and free. You pulled another record from the shelf, this one with a faded cover you recognised from years ago. “Well, if I spend too much time with Rossi, then I guess I’m doomed to become a vinyl snob,” you joked, flipping the record over to check the tracklist. You ran your fingers over the edges of the sleeve, feeling the familiar grooves of the cover, the little imperfections that only came with time.

You glanced over at Spencer, watching him for a moment as he flipped through his own stack. There was something so easy about being with him here, in this small, dimly lit shop filled with memories and melodies. “I mean, how else are you supposed to listen to music?” you asked, raising an eyebrow dramatically as you glanced down at the album in your hands. Then, with a theatrical flair, you placed your free hand on your hip and tilted your head back, doing your best (and rather exaggerated) impersonation of Rossi. “It’s the only way to really appreciate it. The crackle, the warmth… it’s like you can feel the music,” you said, making a show of puffing out an imaginary cigar and letting the smoke trail into the air.

Spencer’s laughter was immediate, loud, and genuine, as he looked over at you, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Oh my God,” he chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. “You are way too good at that.”

You grinned, clearly pleased with yourself. “I’ve been practicing,” you said, striking a mock pose, your hand still poised as if holding the cigar, before you finally broke into another fit of laughter. Spencer couldn’t help but join you, his smile wide and full of affection. “Rossi would be proud,” he teased, his voice light, but there was a fondness in the way he looked at you.

You winked, a mischievous glint in your eyes. “Well, if I’m ever in need of a new career, I think I’ve got this down.”

By the time you reached the end of your long search through the endless rows of records, you had carefully chosen a couple you were willing to splurge on. Cradling the records against your chest, you joined the line at the register, the buzz of the store humming around you.

When your turn came, you placed the records on the counter, chatting casually with the cashier as you fied through your bag for your wallet. Your voice was light, a touch distracted as your fingers rifled through your belongings.

Unbeknownst to you, Spencer had stepped closer, the faintest hint of a mischievous smile on his lips. Without a word, he slipped his card onto the reader. The machine beeped, signalling the completed transaction just as you finally found your wallet and looked up.

Confused, your gaze darted between the cashier and Spencer, who was already sliding his card back into his wallet with an air of nonchalance.

“Spencer!” you gasped, stepping out of line with him as they headed toward the exit. You gave him that look—the one that said he didn’t have to do what he just did. Your lips parted to speak, but he beat you to it.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you said softly, your voice laced with both gratitude and protest. Your hazel eyes darted to the floor for a moment before flicking back to him, catching the warm, self-assured look in his own. You didn’t like people spending money on you when you had plenty of your own. The records weren’t cheap, either.

Spencer, however, shrugged it off with a quiet confidence that surprised even himself. “I wanted to,” he replied simply. His voice was calm but firm, the corners of his mouth quirking up into a gentle smile. “I asked you to come out with me, didn’t I?”

You sighed, your protest melting into a small, affectionate smile as they stepped out into the crisp air. It was such a Spencer thing to do—thoughtful and kind, but completely unnecessary. Yet, as they walked side by side, you couldn’t deny the warmth his gesture left in your chest.

You glanced up at him, your eyes twinkling with a playful edge as you broke the silence. “You’re lucky I agreed,” you teased, a grin tugging at your lips.

Spencer chuckled softly, glancing down at you. “Oh, I know,” he said, his voice low but filled with humor. “Trust me, I’m very lucky.”

They continued to walk aimlessly, the crisp evening air brushing against their faces as they strolled. Spencer was mid-thought, caught up in some internal musing when your voice broke through.

“Oh my God, Chinatown, Spencer!” you exclaimed, your voice brimming with excitement, like a child spotting a candy store.

Your eyes lit up as they landed on the colourful archway marking the entrance to Chinatown. You couldn’t quite explain it, but Chinatowns had always been your favourite places to visit. Maybe it was the vibrant atmosphere, the intricate details of the buildings, or the way everyone seemed to know one another, creating a sense of community that felt warm and welcoming. You loved every bit of it.

Without realizing it, you grabbed Spencer’s hand and tugged him along with you, your excitement bubbling over. Your grip was firm but warm, and Spencer—despite the suddenness—didn’t resist. In fact, he found himself smiling as you led him toward the bustling street.

Your face glowed brighter than he’d ever seen as you took in the sight of the ornately decorated gate ahead, its vivid reds and golds shining under the string lights that crisscrossed above the street. He didn’t know if it was your enthusiasm or the way your joy seemed to radiate outward, but he was utterly mesmerized, trailing behind you like he was under a spell.

“We should get noodles—if you’re okay with that?” you asked, snapping him out of his thoughts.

Spencer blinked, realizing he’d been staring at you with a soft, almost dreamy expression. The way you looked at him then—like he was the best person in the world just for being here with you—made his heart skip.

“Yeah, of course,” he replied, his voice steady but his heart racing. Without thinking, he gave your hand a gentle squeeze.

Your cheeks flushed at the small gesture, and Spencer caught the faintest flicker of a smile as they continued walking hand in hand. The streets were alive with energy, from the scent of freshly steamed buns wafting from carts to the hum of chatter in the air.

Eventually, they stumbled upon a quaint bakery that led to an underground noodle bar tucked just below it. The combination was irresistible. As they waited for a table, your eyes lit up when you spotted cheese-filled mooncakes in the bakery display.

“I have to try one of these,” you said eagerly, placing your order while Spencer watched you with quiet amusement.

Moments later, you held the warm pastry in your hands, your face glowing with anticipation. “This is going to be the best cheese pull you’ve ever seen,” you declared, laughing with a childlike excitement that made Spencer’s chest tighten.

You took a bite, and as you pulled back, the melted cheese stretched from your mouth to the mooncake, just as you had promised. Your eyes widened with delight, and your laughter rang out, light and contagious.

Spencer couldn’t help but laugh too, shaking his head in amazement. You were like a child in the best possible way, unguarded and full of joy.

“You were right,” he said, still chuckling. “That’s definitely the best cheese pull I’ve ever seen.”

Your grin widened, and for a moment, Spencer forgot about the bustling streets around them. All he could see was your—glowing, carefree, and absolutely captivating.

The waiter called out, “Sī bīn sài Ruì dé?” his tone polite and slightly accented as he scanned the small crowd in the restaurant’s waiting area. Spencer Reid’s head lifted, recognizing the sound of his name rendered in Mandarin. He gave a small, sheepish smile, adjusting his scarf as he turned to look at you.

You arched an amused brow, gesturing toward the waiter with a tilt of your head. “That’s you, Dr. Reid.”

Spencer nodded, his hand lightly brushing against your lower back as he led the way down the narrow staircase into the cozy, warmly lit restaurant below. The rich scent of soy sauce, garlic, and sesame oil wafted through the air, mingling with the quiet murmur of diners enjoying their meals.

The waiter guided them to a private booth tucked into the corner of the room, its dark wooden walls offering a sense of intimacy. Spencer gestured for you to slide in first, always the gentleman, before settling across from you.

The two opened their menus, the glossy pages filled with enticing photos and descriptions of diyous written in both Mandarin and English. Spencer scanned the list with the precision of someone cataloging data, while you took a more casual approach, letting your eyes linger on the pictures.

“What are you thinking of getting?” Spencer asked, glancing up at you. His hazel eyes held a mix of curiosity and hesitation, likely calculating the probabilities of making the wrong choice in an unfamiliar culinary landscape.

You smiled, leaning slightly over the menu to point at the dishes you had your eye on. “I was thinking Beef Noodle Soup and maybe a fried rice platter. If you wanted to share?”

Your suggestion was casual, but you knew Spencer well enough to recognise that sharing food might not be his first choice. The germaphobic tendencies you’d seen surface in the past made your offer feel like a gamble. If he declined, you’d simply adjust your order—no harm, no foul.

Spencer’s brow furrowed slightly, his fingers drumming lightly against the edge of the menu. “Sharing…” he began, his tone thoughtful. “It’s not usually my preference, but—” He paused, studying your face as though weighing the pros and cons of stepping out of his comfort zone. “I think I could make an exception. Just… no double-dipping,” he added with a faint smile, his attempt at humour not lost on you.

You chuckled softly, your shoulders relaxing. “Deal. I’ll even promise to use the serving spoon if it helps.”

His smile widened, the corners of his mouth quirking upward in a way that made your heart skip a beat. “That would be appreciated.”

As the waiter returned to take their order, Spencer let you take the lead, quietly observing your interactions. The way you spoke with ease, your smile lighting up the space between them, was something he never grew tired of.

After the waiter left, the two settled into conversation, the hum of the restaurant serving as a comforting backdrop. You caught him glancing at you from time to time, his expression soft and unguarded.

“Two Beef Noodle Soup and fried rice,” he mused after a moment. “Good choices. Did you know Beef Noodle Soup is considered a national dish in Taiwan? There’s even an annual festival where chefs compete to create the best version of it.”

Your eyes sparkled with interest. “I didn’t know that. How do you even know things like that off the top of your head?”

Spencer shrugged, a faint blush creeping up his neck. “I read a lot.”

You laughed, leaning forward slightly. “Of course you do. But that’s one of the things I love about you, you know. You always have the most random, fascinating facts tucked away in that big brain of yours.”

His blush deepened, and he ducked his head slightly, fiddling with the edge of his napkin. “I’m glad you think so,” he murmured.

Their food arrived not long after, the diyous steaming and fragrant, the aroma instantly making your stomach rumble. You reached for your chopsticks, but before you could start serving yourself, Spencer gently took the plate from your side.

“Allow me,” he said, his tone soft but resolute, as though he had been planning this move.

You blinked in surprise, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “Wow, chivalry isn’t dead after all. I was starting to wonder.”

Spencer shot you a mock-offended look as he carefully portioned out some of the sizzling stir-fry onto your plate. “Hey, I can be chivalrous. I just… don’t get much practice. Sharing food isn’t exactly in my top five skills.”

You laughed, nudging his arm. “You don’t say. Should I feel honoured or concerned?”

“Definitely honoured,” he replied, finishing your plate with an exaggerated flourish. “This is a rare occurrence. Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

“Oh, I’m definitely documenting this,” you teased, pulling out your phone and snapping a quick photo of him mid-serve. “The great Dr. Spencer Reid, putting others first. What’s next, you’re going to offer me the last bite?”

Spencer smirked as he served himself. “Let’s not get carried away.”

As they began eating, you picked up a particularly long noodle with your chopsticks and dangled it in front of your face. “Do you think this could double as a jump rope for ants?”

Spencer nearly choked on his bite of rice, laughing. “That is… an incredibly specific visual. Why ants? Why not, I don’t know, mice?”

“Too predictable,” you replied, twirling the noodle like you were considering its durability. “Ants have more finesse. They’d appreciate the artistry.”

“Ah, yes, the ant gymnast community,” Spencer said, adjusting his glasses and leaning forward as though about to deliver a lecture. “You know, ants can actually carry up to fifty times their body weight, so a noodle would be the perfect workout tool.”

You grinned, using your chopsticks to make the noodles “jump” across your plate. “You’re making my case for me. Ant Olympics, here we come.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Thank you,” you said brightly, slurping the noodle up with a playful flourish.

Spencer raised an eyebrow and then, without a word, picked up a dumpling with his chopsticks and held it in front of his mouth. He narrowed his eyes, suddenly serious. “If I were an ant, this would be like carrying a wrecking ball.”

You burst out laughing, nearly dropping your chopsticks. “You’re so weird!”

“Only because you bring it out of me,” he replied, popping the dumpling into his mouth with a small, triumphant smile.

They continued their meal, each taking turns to make the other laugh with increasingly absurd food-related jokes. Spencer even attempted to balance a broccoli floret on his nose, which ended with you snorting and him losing the floret mid-laugh.

By the time they finished, your sides ached from laughing, and Spencer looked more relaxed than you’d seen him in weeks. As he reached for the bill, you caught his hand and grinned.

“See? Sharing isn’t so bad,” you teased.

He smiled back, his eyes warm. “Only with you.”

Once they left Chinatown, the streets of Washington, D.C. buzzed with life, but Spencer and you were lost in their own little world, laughing uncontrollably over the events of the day. Every inside joke and playful jab sent them spiraling into fits of laughter, their shared energy a bright spot in the bustling city. For Spencer, the date had already been perfect, but he wasn’t ready for it to end just yet. He had one last plan to cap off the evening, though it wouldn’t come into play for hours. Until then, he just needed to keep you distracted.

You nudged him playfully as they strolled along. “Alright, something you never got to do as a kid but always wanted to,” you said, your tone suddenly serious despite the twinkle of curiosity in your eyes.

Spencer hesitated, the question catching him off guard. He rubbed the back of his neck, a sheepish smile creeping across his face. “I don’t know,” he began, his voice soft. “I’ve always liked reading books and spending time with my mom.” He glanced at you, embarrassed by how ordinary his answer sounded.

You gave his hand a gentle squeeze, grounding him. “That’s sweet, Spence,” you said softly. “But come on, there’s gotta be something.”

He exhaled a small laugh, his gaze shifting to the pavement as he admitted, “Well, I always wanted to play Laser Tag.”

You stopped in your tracks, your hazel eyes wide with disbelief. “Wait. You’ve never played Laser Tag?”

Spencer shrugged, his hands shoved deep into his coat pockets. “I mean, no, not really. It just never came up.”

You were already shaking your head in mock horror. “That’s unacceptable. We’re fixing this right now.”

“It’s fine. We don’t have to—”

But you were already tugging him along with determined speed. “Nope. This is happening. You’re about to experience the childhood you missed out on, and it’s going to be amazing.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle at your enthusiasm, your energy was contagious. Before he knew it, they were standing at the counter of a nearby arcade, you grinning ear to ear as you requested two tickets for Laser Tag.

Spencer tried one last time to protest. “Really, you don’t have to do this—”

“Consider it my treat,” you interrupted, handing over your card to the cashier. “A thank-you for the best day I’ve had in a long time.”

The sincerity in your voice silenced his objections, and he felt his heart swell. As the cashier handed them their gear, you turned to him with a mischievous glint in your eye.

“Alright, Dr. Reid,” you teased, strapping on your vest. “Let’s see if all that genius-level intellect helps you out on the battlefield.”

Spencer laughed, shaking his head. “You’re going to regret this. I may not have played before, but I’m pretty sure I’m about to win.”

“Bold of you to assume,” you shot back with a smirk, grabbing his hand and pulling him toward the arena.

As they stepped into the dimly lit room filled with neon lights and fog machines, Spencer felt an unexpected rush of excitement. You turned to him, your face illuminated by the glowing lights, and he couldn’t help but smile. Maybe he’d been missing out, but with you by his side, he was more than ready to make up for lost time.

The neon lights flickered, casting an otherworldly glow over the Laser Tag arena. Fog swirled around Spencer and you as they ducked behind barriers and navigated the maze-like layout. The sound of distant footsteps and laser beams zipping through the air made it feel like they’d stepped into a sci-fi movie.

Spencer crouched low, trying to strategize his next move, but your sudden battle cry made him jump. You darted out from behind a glowing pillar, your laughter echoing through the arena as you fired your laser, landing a direct hit on his vest.

“Gotcha!” you shouted triumphantly, your grin wide and uncontainable.

Spencer stumbled back in mock defeat, his hands raised. “Okay, okay, truce! I’m still learning!”

You rolled your eyes, playfully wagging a finger at him. “No mercy, Reid. You’re my bitch now.”

You turned to sprint away, but Spencer surprised you by diving behind a barrier and quickly firing back. The red lights on your vest lit up, signalling a hit.

“Ha! Who’s the genius now?” he teased, standing up with a victorious smirk.

You clutched your chest dramatically, pretending to be mortally wounded. “Betrayed… by my own date!” you gasped, collapsing onto a nearby barrier.

Spencer burst into laughter, his usually reserved demeanor completely melting away. “You’re ridiculous,” he said, shaking his head as he helped your back up.

“And you love it,” you quipped, sticking your tongue out before taking off into the maze again.

The game continued, a back-and-forth of sneak attacks, exaggerated reactions, and endless laughter. Every hit was met with playful banter, and every moment felt like peeling back the layers of their guarded hearts. Spencer, who had always been so serious and calculated, found himself letting go, caught up in the pure, childlike joy of the moment.

At one point, they both ended up crouched behind the same barrier, breathless and laughing so hard their sides hurt. You leaned your head against his shoulder, your face flushed from running. “Okay, I admit it,” you said between giggles. “You’re pretty good for a first-timer.”

Spencer glanced at you, his hazel eyes sparkling in the dim light. “I had a good teacher,” he replied softly.

For a moment, the chaos around them faded. They were just two people, sitting side by side, finding solace in each other’s company.

You nudged him gently. “See? Childhood dream fulfilled. What’s next on your list?”

He chuckled, his gaze dropping to the glowing floor. “Honestly? I think this might be enough for one night.”

“Enough?” you teased. “We’ve barely scratched the surface! Next time, we’re doing bumper cars.”

Spencer laughed, the sound light and genuine. “I think I’m going to need a lot of next times with you,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your expression softened, and you reached out to take his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Then we’ll make that happen,” you promised.

As the game timer buzzed, signalling the end of their session, Spencer and you made their way out of the arena, still laughing and teasing each other. A leaderboard lit up on the screen near the exit, and Spencer froze, his eyes widening.

“No way,” he murmured, stepping closer to the display.

You leaned over his shoulder, squinting at the screen. Your jaw dropped when you saw his name at the top of the list. “You won?!” you exclaimed, grabbing his arm and shaking it excitedly. “Spencer Reid, first-time Laser Tag champion! I’m so proud of you!”

He turned to you, his grin almost bashful but undeniably proud. “Beginner’s luck, maybe?”

“Absolutely not,” you said, your face lighting up with genuine excitement. “You crushed it out there! I mean, I’m a little salty that you beat me, but still—you’re officially a Laser Tag legend.”

Spencer laughed, the sound bubbling out of him with pure joy. “A legend, huh? I’ll take it.”

You playfully bumped your shoulder against his. “You better. This is a big deal! You’ve got bragging rights now.”

As they stepped out of the arcade into the cool night air, you looped your arm through his, your energy still electric. “Okay, next time we’re teaming up. Imagine what we could do together!”

Spencer looked down at you, his heart warm and full. “I think we’d be unstoppable,” he said, his voice soft but confident.

As they walked down the busy streets, still laughing and recounting the best moments of the game, Spencer couldn’t help but feel like he’d won more than just Laser Tag. With you by his side, he’d found something he hadn’t even realized he’d been missing—a piece of joy, of freedom, of connection that made him feel whole again.

As they continued down the lively streets of D.C., Spencer’s smile lingered, a quiet sense of contentment radiating from him. You were still buzzing from the Laser Tag victory, your hand resting comfortably in his as they walked.

“Alright, Dr. Reid,” you said playfully, looking up at him. “What’s next on this magical mystery tour of a date? Because if it’s as fun as Laser Tag, I might actually burst from happiness.”

Spencer chuckled, his hazel eyes glinting with mischief. “Well,” he began, his voice soft but teasing, “I do have one more thing planned. But it’s a surprise.”

Your eyes widened with curiosity. “A surprise? Spencer Reid, you’re full of secrets tonight. What is it?”

He shook his head, his lips curving into a sly smile. “You’ll see. Just trust me.”

“Always,” you said with a grin, letting him guide you down a quieter street.

The hum of the city faded as they walked, replaced by a peaceful stillness. You tilted your head, trying to guess where he was taking you, but Spencer kept quiet, his excitement barely contained. Finally, they rounded a corner, and your breath caught as the grand façade of the National Gallery of Art came into view, illuminated beautifully against the night sky.

“Spencer,” you whispered, awe in your voice. “The art museum? It’s closed right now.”

He smiled, his fingers lacing tighter with yours. “Not for us.”

As if on cue, a side door to the museum opened, and a man in his mid-thirties stepped out, waving at Spencer.

“Dr. Reid!” the man called warmly. “Right on time.”

“Thanks, Jacob,” Spencer said, his voice full of gratitude. He turned to you, his expression soft. “Jacob’s a curator here. He agreed to stay late and let us in. Just us.”

Your jaw dropped as you looked between Spencer and Jacob. “You’re kidding. We get the whole museum to ourselves?”

Spencer nodded, his heart fluttering at the pure joy on your face. “I thought you might like it. I know how much you love art, and, well… I wanted to do something special for you.”

You blinked back a sudden wave of emotion, your chest tightening with affection. “Spencer, this is… this is incredible. Thank you.”

He smiled, a little shyly. “You’re worth it.”

Jacob opened the door wider, gesturing them inside. “Enjoy yourselves. I’ll be in my office if you need anything.”

As they stepped into the museum, the quiet echoed around them, amplifying the beauty of the vast, empty halls. The dim lighting highlighted the paintings and sculptures, making it feel like they’d stepped into another world.

You turned to Spencer, your eyes shining. “This is the most thoughtful thing anyone’s ever done for me.”

He ducked his head, his cheeks tinged pink. “I just wanted to give you something memorable. Something… magical.”

You reached out, taking his hand in yours. “You’ve done more than that, Spence. This is perfect.”

He smiled, his heart swelling at your words. “Come on,” he said softly, leading you toward the first exhibit. “Let’s explore.”

And together, hand in hand, they wandered through the museum, the art and the quiet intimacy of the moment weaving a memory neither of them would ever forget.

The museum was humour, the kind of quiet that invited reverence and reflection. Their footsteps echoed faintly as they moved through the halls, pausing here and there to admire a painting or sculpture. Spencer’s hand lingered at your lower back, a subtle gesture to guide you but also to stay close, as if the intimacy of the space demanded it.

They came to a room filled with sculptures, the soft lighting casting long shadows that danced on the walls. Your attention was immediately drawn to a particular piece—a sculpture of two women, one older, one younger, the younger standing on the shoulders of the older as if reaching for something just out of sight.

You stopped in your tracks, your breath catching slightly. Spencer noticed your stillness and took a step back, letting your take in the piece without interruption. Your expression shifted, your usual brightness giving way to something quieter, deeper.

After a few moments, he couldn’t help but break the silence, his voice soft so as not to disturb the moment. “How does it make you feel?”

You didn’t turn to him right away. Your eyes remained fixed on the sculpture, your hands loosely clasped in front of you. When you finally spoke, your voice was low but steady, carrying the weight of your thoughts.

“Seen,” you said simply, then paused as if to find the right words. “In a weird way. I don’t think I’d be who I am without my mother, and this piece proves it in a way. It makes me feel less alone too, like I’m not the only one who sees myself this way.”

Spencer tilted his head, his gaze flickering between you and the sculpture. He could see it now—the younger woman’s outstretched hands, the older one’s steadying stance. The balance between them spoke volumes about trust, sacrifice, and love.

“You feel like you’re standing on your shoulders,” he said softly, almost to himself.

You nodded, finally glancing at him. “Yeah. Every step I’ve taken has been because you let me stand on your foundation. Even when things weren’t perfect, you were still there, holding me up.” You smiled faintly, a bittersweet curve of your lips. “It’s nice to see it represented like this, you know? It’s like… someone else understands.”

Spencer took a small step closer, his voice gentle. “You’d be proud of you. I don’t think anyone could look at what you’ve built for yourself and feel anything less.”

You turned fully to face him now, your hazel eyes soft but shining. “Thank you, Spence. That means a lot.”

He gave you a small smile, his hands in his pockets as he glanced back at the sculpture. “It’s beautiful. Just like the way you see the world.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “You’re such a charmer, you know that?”

“Not really,” he admitted with a small chuckle, “but I mean it.”

For a while longer, they stayed there, side by side, letting the sculpture’s quiet power wash over them. In that moment, it wasn’t just art—it was a connection, a shared understanding that went deeper.

The weight of the moment lifted as they moved on, wandering into another section of the museum. The air between them felt lighter now, a quiet understanding still lingering but giving way to the playful energy they always seemed to share.

It started with a chuckle from you, your hand covering your mouth as you stopped in front of a sculpture of a stern-looking man with an exaggeratedly large nose. “Okay, tell me that doesn’t look like Hotch when he’s annoyed,” you whispered, your eyes sparkling mischievously.

Spencer glanced at the sculpture and bit back a laugh. “It’s the eyebrows,” he said, nodding in agreement.

You gasped, pointing. “The eyebrows! Yes! It’s like he’s about to say, ‘Reid, stop overexplaining.’"

Spencer laughed, his face lighting up in a way that made your heart skip. “Okay, okay, but look at this one,” he said, leading you to a nearby bust of a man whose face was frozen in a hilariously exaggerated scowl. “Tell me that’s not Rossi after someone forgets to bring him coffee.”

You burst out laughing, clapping a hand over your mouth to muffle the sound. “Oh my God, it’s perfect!” you managed between giggles.

They moved from sculpture to sculpture, pointing out ridiculous expressions and coming up with stories for each one. Spencer, ever the genius, concocted elaborate backstories for the pieces, each one more absurd than the last.

“This one,” he said, gesturing to a marble figure of a man dramatically clutching his chest, “was probably just told that his favorite gelato shop ran out of pistachio.”

You doubled over laughing, your cheeks aching from smiling so much. “Stop, you’re going to get us kicked out!” you said, though your laughter made it clear you didn’t mean it.

“You’re the one who started it,” he teased, his grin wide and unrestrained.

They rounded a corner and found themselves in front of a statue of a cherub with a particularly mischievous expression. Spencer tilted his head. “This one’s definitely plotting something. Probably planning to steal cookies from the other cherubs.”

You wiped a tear from your eyes, still laughing. “You’re too good at this. Have you been secretly practicing?”

He shrugged, a playful glint in his eye. “What can I say? I’m a natural.”

As they continued exploring, their laughter echoed softly through the empty halls, their joy filling the quiet space. For a little while, they let themselves be kids again—carefree, silly, and completely immersed in the moment.

Spencer, usually so reserved and composed, felt freer than he had in years. And you, watching him let loose, felt your heart swell with happiness. It wasn’t just about the art or the laughter—it was about being together, sharing a moment that was uniquely theirs.

When they finally paused to catch their breath, leaning against a wall in between fits of giggles, Spencer looked at you with a soft smile. “This might be the most fun I’ve ever had in a museum.”

You grinned, your eyes shining. “I told you, you just needed the right partner in crime.”

He nodded, his expression warm. “I think I found them.”

And with that, they set off again, hand in hand, ready to see what other treasures—and laughs—the museum had to offer.

As they wandered back toward the grand central hall of the museum, the playful energy between them began to settle into something softer, quieter. The warm lighting of the space casts a golden glow over the room, highlighting the details of the sculptures and paintings around them. You paused by a large marble statue of a couple intertwined in an eternal embrace, your gaze lingering on the delicate way the sculptor had captured the curve of their hands and the tilt of their heads.

Spencer stopped beside you, his eyes following yours to the statue. He said nothing, but the air between them shifted, heavy with unspoken thoughts. The laughter from earlier seemed to hang in the distance, replaced by a gentle stillness.

You turned your head to look at him, your expression soft, your lips parted slightly as if you wanted to say something but couldn’t quite find the words. Spencer’s gaze flickered from the statue to you, his heart stuttering as he caught the way the golden light played on your features.

Neityour of them spoke. They didn’t need to.

Spencer’s hand reached out, slow and hesitant, his fingertips brushing against yours. The touch was featyour-light, but it sent a ripple through both of them, grounding them in the moment.

Your eyes searched his, questioning, yet trusting. He took a step closer, the space between them shrinking until it was almost nonexistent.

Your breath hitched, your heart racing as his face hovered close to yours. The world around them seemed to blur, the art and the quiet fading into the background as the only thing that mattered was him—his eyes, his presence, the warmth of him so close.

Spencer hesitated, his gaze flicking to your lips and back to your eyes, as if silently asking for permission. You gave him the faintest nod, your lips curving into a soft, encouraging smile.

It was painfully slow, the kind of moment that stretched on forever, but neither of them rushed it. Their foreheads brushed first, a tentative, intimate touch that sent shivers down your spine. His nose bumped yours lightly, their breaths mingling in the small space between them.

And then, finally, achingly, his lips met yours.

The kiss was soft, and unhurried, a perfect balance of tenderness and curiosity. His hand cupped your cheek gently, his thumb brushing your skin as if you were something fragile, something to be cherished You leaned into him, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt to steady yourself as your heart soared.

Time seemed to stop entirely. There was no overthinking, no second-guessing—just the quiet certainty that this was exactly where they were meant to be.

When they finally pulled back, their faces still close, neither of them spoke right away. Spencer’s eyes searched yours, his expression a mix of wonder and disbelief, as if he couldn’t quite believe what had just happened.

You smiled softly, your thumb brushing over the back of his hand. “That felt… right,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Spencer nodded, his lips curving into the faintest smile. “It did,” he agreed, his voice equally quiet.

And as they stood there, bathed in the golden light of the museum, they both knew they’d just shared a moment they’d carry with them forever.

Hand in hand, they made their way back toward the main entrance of the museum, their fingers still entwined as they shared quiet smiles and the lingering warmth of the kiss. The halls, now empty of their playful laughter, seemed to hum with the remnants of the night’s magic, a soft kind of peace wrapping around them.

When they reached the front, they were met by Jacob, who was standing by the gift shop, a welcoming grin on his face.

“Did you two enjoy the private tour?” he asked, clearly amused by the soft glow in their expressions.

“It was perfect,” You replied, your voice light with contentment. “We couldn’t have asked for a better night.”

Spencer gave Jacob a small nod of thanks, and they made their way toward the gift shop. Of course, you, ever the curious soul, immediately started scanning the shelves, your eyes lighting up as you spotted a section of artist books and unique prints.

Spencer stood back a little, letting you take it all in. It was clear from the way you were absorbed in the display that you were in your element. Your fingers traced the spines of the books, your eyes lingering on the vibrant art, the words, and the stories behind them. It was a rare thing to see you so lost in admiration, and he couldn’t help but smile as he watched you, appreciating the way you connected with the world through art.

You picked up one of the books, flipping it open to the first page. “Spence,” you called softly, turning to him with a gentle smile. “Which artist was it who made that sculpture of the two women?”

Spencer walked over to you, his gaze following yours to the shelf where the artist’s work was displayed. He didn’t need to think twice. “Julie Rrap,” he replied.

You nodded, your fingers brushing the cover of the book titled Body Double. You seemed almost hesitant at first, as if deciding whether or not to pick it up. But then, with a quiet sense of reverence, you carefully opened the book and placed it in your hands, holding it close to your chest for a moment before glancing back at Spencer.

“Thank you,” you said softly, your voice filled with gratitude. There was something in your eyes—something that said this moment meant more to you than you could express.

Spencer smiled warmly, his heart swelling a little. “I’m glad you like it.”

You ran your thumb along the edges of the book, your gaze still soft as you flipped through the pages, your eyes drinking in the art and the words. It was as if the world had slowed down again, and they were both wrapped in the quiet, intimate moment of shared appreciation.

“I think I’m going to get this,” you said, your voice thoughtful, almost to yourself. “It’s… I don’t know. It feels important.”

Spencer nodded, his gaze still on you as you carefully placed the book in your arms, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “It’s yours. You deserve it.”

Spencer reached into his pocket as they approached the counter, his hand finding yours once more, giving it a reassuring squeeze. He placed the book and a few other items you had picked out onto the counter. Jacob, who had been standing nearby, gave them both a knowing smile as he rang up the items.

“You two seem like you had a good time,” Jacob said, his tone light and friendly.

Spencer smiled, pulling out his wallet. “It was a perfect night, thanks to you.”

You turned to Jacob with a grateful expression, your eyes bright. “Thank you for letting us stay after hours. It really made the evening special.”

Jacob nodded, giving you a small wink. “Anytime. Glad you enjoyed it. You two have a good rest of the night.”

After Spencer finished paying, he gathered the items and handed them to you, who accepted them with a soft smile. “Thanks again,” you said, your voice warm.

With a final wave to Jacob, they left the gift shop and stepped into the cool night air. The city was quieter now, the streets bathed in the soft glow of streetlights. As they walked toward Spencer’s apartment, the evening felt like a perfect bookend to a day full of laughter, art, and unexpected moments of connection.

Spencer, his arm casually draped over your shoulder, pulled you closer as they walked. “So, what do you think? A quiet night in to wrap things up?” he asked, a playful note in his voice.

You smiled, your eyes glinting with excitement. “Sounds perfect.”

They continued down the sidewalk, their footsteps in sync, the world around them fading away as they looked forward to whatever came next—together.

thank you for reading!

please like & reblog if you enjoyed!

part two!

masterlist!

[sushiyuzu]

my turn

warning: fluff + comfort — it is finally your turn to return your devoted love and affection to soft!sylus 🤍

a/n: hi anon! many thanks for ur sweet words and request, i hope you enjoy <3

anon’s request / link: click here

hmm.

you’ve never seen sylus this quiet before.

you’ve always known sylus to be the confident one—the serious, bold, intimidating man who always seems to have everything under control. he’s the one who teases you with his smooth, elegant words, who pulls you close with a charming smile that makes your heart race. but today, you decide it’s your turn to change things up.

he’s sitting quietly in the living room, reading a book with that focused expression he gets when he’s deep into something. you take a moment to watch him, admiring his handsome face and the way his silver hair falls over his forehead. you’ve never seen him look so calm, so peaceful. a playful idea forms in your mind, and before you can second-guess it, you move closer.

you slip into his lap without warning, wrapping your arms around his neck. his eyes widen, his crimson gaze meeting yours with a mix of surprise and curiosity.

“what are you doing?” he asks, his voice low and smooth, the usual edge of authority still there. you smile and lean in, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek.

“nothing,” you say softly, your lips brushing his skin. “just loving you.”

before he can respond, you kiss him again—this time on the other cheek, then on his jaw, your fingers threading through his silver hair. you can feel his body tense beneath you, his posture rigid like he’s not sure how to handle your sudden affection.

“you’re being... very forward,” he murmurs, his deep voice wavering slightly. clearly, he’s trying to keep his composure, but you can see the blush creeping up his cheeks, the way his eyes are flickering with uncertainty. it’s just so unlike him that it makes you giggle.

“i can’t help it,” you say, tightening your arms around him, your lips brushing against the corner of his mouth. “you’re just so handsome.” your voice is soft and sincere, and you watch as his confident mask slips just a little.

he swallows, his crimson eyes wide as he stares at you, clearly not used to you being this bold.

you decide to push him further, to see just how flustered you can make him. “i love you,” you whisper against his ear, your voice sweet and affectionate. you press a kiss to his temple, then his nose, then his lips. he freezes, his breath hitching, and you can feel the way his heartbeat racing against your chest.

“what has gotten into you?” sylus asks, his usual smooth tone cracking just a bit. he looks genuinely taken aback, his elegant words faltering as you continue to pepper his face with soft kisses. you giggle again, your fingers tracing small circles on the back of his neck.

“just loving you,” you say again, more firmly this time.

“you always take care of me, so now it’s my turn to show you how much you mean to me.” you smile, your eyes shining with warmth, and he blinks at you like he doesn’t quite understand what’s happening.

and that almost makes you burst out laughing.

keyword: almost.

“you’re... ridiculous,” he mutters, his voice low and unsteady, but there’s no real irritation in his tone—only a soft, shaky vulnerability. his hands settle on your waist, holding you like he’s afraid you might disappear. “you’re supposed to be the shy one, not me.”

you smile wider, leaning in to press your forehead against his. “maybe i’m tired of being shy,” you tease gently. “maybe i want you to be the one who blushes for once.”

his eyes narrow slightly, like he’s about to say something clever, but the words seem to catch in his throat. instead, he just stares at you, his crimson gaze searching your face, and you can tell he’s struggling to keep his usual composure. you feel a surge of affection for him—this strong, confident man who’s so easily undone by your love.

so you kiss him again, long and slow, your hands framing his face, your thumbs brushing over his high cheekbones. this time, he doesn’t resist. he melts into the kiss, his hands tightening on your waist, squeezing your flesh gently and you feel him shudder against you. when you finally pull back, his face is flushed, his breathing uneven, and he looks... shy. truly shy, like he’s never been before.

“you’re... unbelievable,” he says softly, his voice a little hoarse, his eyes half-lidded and warm. you can see the struggle in him—wanting to regain control, to be the calm and composed sylus that you know, but your gentle touches are making it impossible for him to act like his usual self.

and it drives him nervously crazy.

“so are you,” you reply, kissing his forehead. you can see him fighting the blush that’s spreading across his cheeks, his eyes glancing away like he’s embarrassed, and it makes your heart swell with warmth. you cup his face, guiding his gaze back to yours, and you can see the way he’s holding back a smile.

“you really are beautiful, you know that?” you say, your voice gentle and sincere. “i don’t tell you that enough.” you lean closer, pressing your lips to his ear. “you mean the world to me, sylus. i love you so much.”

you feel him tremble beneath you, his grip on your waist tightening, and you pull back just enough to see his expression—completely soft, completely open. he’s not trying to hide anymore, and there’s something incredibly sweet about seeing him this vulnerable, this undone by your love.

“you’re going to make me go insane,” he mutters, his voice barely above a whisper, and there’s a rough, raw honesty in his tone that takes your breath away. he’s not used to being the one overwhelmed, but he’s not pushing you away, either. instead, he leans in, his forehead resting against yours, his eyes closing as he lets out a shaky breath.

“then let’s go insane together,” you say softly, pressing a tender kiss to his lips. he makes a soft sound, almost a whimper, and kisses you back—slow and deep and so full of emotion that it makes your heart skip a beat.

you pull away just enough to see his face—his eyes half-lidded, his cheeks a warm shade of pink, and his expression so soft it makes your chest ache.

“you don’t have to be perfect with me,” you whisper, brushing a strand of silver hair away from his forehead. “i love you just as you are.”

he’s quiet for a long moment, his gaze locked on yours, and then he smiles—a real, gentle smile that makes his ruby eyes shine. “i love you most, sweetie.” he says softly, his voice steady and sincere, and it’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever heard.

you smile back, feeling a warmth spread through your chest, and you hug him tight, burying your face in his shoulder. he wraps his arms around you, holding you close, and you can feel the way he’s finally letting go of that careful, controlled exterior. he’s just sylus now—your sylus, the one who loves you with all his heart, who isn’t afraid to show you his softer side.

oh, he’s so in love.

only with you.

just you, forever.

while you’re lost in the warmth of his hug, you suddenly feel his lips touch your shoulder. there’s a small, teasing pause, and then he gently nibbles at your skin—a light bite that makes you shiver. you gasp quietly, your heart fluttering with surprise, but before you can even react, he follows it with a soft, gentle kiss, pressing his lips where he cutely bit you. the touch is warm and comforting, and it sends a shiver down your spine.

“sylus,” you whisper his name, a little surprised but mostly filled with affection, and he laughs quietly, the sound low and sweet. he’s still holding you close, his breath warm against your neck, and you can feel that he’s smiling—like he’s happy to share this new, tender closeness with you.

and deep down, that makes you giddy.

“i couldn’t resist,” he says in a soft whisper, his voice gentle and playful in your ear. his tone still carries a hint of his usual confidence, but it’s softer now. his arms pull you even closer, and you can feel the steady, comforting beat of his heart as you lean against his chest.

“you’re just too tempting,” he adds, his lips brushing your shoulder again. you can’t help but laugh softly, holding him tighter, your arms wrapped around his neck. you lean in and press a kiss to his cheek, feeling warmth spread through you—a feeling of love that fills every corner of your heart.

“and you,” you say softly, your voice full of love, “are absolutely perfect.”

he makes a quiet, happy sound, gently nuzzling his face into your neck. you can feel him smile against your skin, his warmth so close and comforting. his fingers start to trace gentle patterns on your back, moving slowly, and you can tell he’s calm and relaxed. his breathing slows, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm, and you feel safe and happy in his arms.

you stay like that, wrapped up in each other’s embrace, for a long time. the room is quiet except for the sound of your breathing, and it feels like the rest of the world has disappeared. his strong, big arms keep you close, and you can feel every bit of him—the warmth of his chest, the softness of his breath, the way he holds you like he never wants to let go.

you lift your head slightly, just enough to look into his sweet eyes. there’s something more softer in them now, something that’s just for you.

only for you.

you lean in and press a gentle kiss to his lips, slow and warm, and he kisses you back, his hand moving up to cradle your cheek. you feel his thumb gently brush your skin, and he deepens the kiss, pulling you closer until there’s no space left between you.

when you finally pull away, his forehead rests against yours, his eyes half-closed and his face relaxed. he looks softer, more open than ever before, and it makes your heart ache with love.

you give him one more quick kiss on the tip of his nose, making him chuckle softly. he tightens his arms around you, holding you so close that you can feel the warmth of his body all around you.

“i love you,” you whisper, and you say it again, over and over, softly against his skin—each “i love you” gentle and full of emotion. he closes his eyes, listening, and you feel the way he relaxes even more, like each word you say fills him with warmth.

he lets out a quiet sigh, pressing another kiss to your shoulder, and you can feel him melt into your touch. his strong, protective exterior has softened, and you can see a slight blush on his cheeks, a sign that he’s a little overwhelmed by all the affection you’re giving him. but he doesn’t move away. he just stays right there, holding you tightly, his face hidden in the crook of your neck, soaking up every bit of your love.

you don’t let go either. instead, you rest your head against his shoulder, feeling his warm breath fanning your skin while his fingers continue to gently stroke your back.

you’re both wrapped up in a safe, warm bubble where nothing else matters except the two of you, and you know that this—being with sylus, being this close—is all you’ll ever need. and you know, in that moment, that this is exactly where you belong—right here in his arms, loving him with all the warmth and affection he truly deserves.

[strayingawayy]

midnight melodies

...where a droopy eyed jisung lulls his crying baby girl to sleep

it was 3 am, and han jisung was starting to lose his grip on reality. in his arms, their newborn daughter was wailing at the top of her tiny lungs, and he, half-asleep, was desperate for anything to calm her down.

“okay... okay,” he muttered, bouncing her gently. “you’re just... hungry, right? yeah, that’s it.”

she screamed louder in protest.

“alright, alright,” he said, rocking back and forth. “no food. no bottle. what do you want, sweet girl?”

she stared up at him, her tiny fists clenched, as if mocking him.

jisung took a deep breath, glancing around the nursery like it held all the answers. he spotted her han quokka plushie on the shelf and grabbed it. “okay, quokka, let’s try you.”

he held it up to her, but she screamed even louder.

"aish. so you're rejecting daddy and daddy in animal form too huh?," he said with a tired laugh. "huh ...maybe something... softer."

his mind was a blur. but then, it hit him. a song. he could sing her to sleep. he was han jisung, after all. how hard could it be?

taking a deep breath, he started softly, his voice still a little hoarse from lack of sleep.

“you are my sunshine, my only sunshine…” he sang, his tone gentle and shaky and accent prominent but soft.

the baby hiccupped mid-cry and paused for a brief moment, staring up at him with wide eyes.

“you make me happy when skies are grey,” he continued, growing more confident.

her cries had slowed down, and her tiny hand reached up as if to feel the vibrations of his voice.

“you’ll never know dear, how much i love you...” jisung crooned, his voice growing softer as his exhaustion began to catch up to him.

the baby’s eyes fluttered, her little face calming.

jisung grinned, his sleepiness fading as he realized his voice was finally working. "see? told you i was a pro," he whispered to her, though he could barely keep his eyes open.

just then, you walked in, rubbing your eyes and stifling a yawn. "you’re still at it?" you asked, glancing at your daughter, who was now dozing peacefully in jisung’s arms.

jisung, eyes half-closed, smiled triumphantly. “i’m a lullaby legend, love .”

you raised an eyebrow. “uh-huh. you sure it wasn’t just that song?”

jisung blinked, the reality of the situation sinking in. “i mean... yeah. probably.”

you chuckled softly and, feeling the need for a quick snack, went to the kitchen. but when you returned a few minutes later, the sight you saw made you pause in the doorway.

there was jisung, curled up in the crib with their baby girl, both fast asleep. he’d somehow managed to fit himself in the small space, one arm around her, his head resting gently on the edge of the crib. his breathing was slow and peaceful, a contented smile on his face. the baby, snug in his arms, had the faintest of smiles on her face as well.

you stepped closer, careful not to wake them, and stood there for a moment, completely taken by the warmth of the scene. the man you loved, the one who had been so anxious earlier, was now completely at ease, his little girl in his arms as if they’d been doing this forever.

you couldn’t help but smile. "well, i guess you are her sunshine too, sweetheart," you whispered to yourself, a soft laugh escaping your lips.

you carefully adjusted the blanket over them and kissed both jisung and your daughter’s foreheads, your heart full of love. then, you whispered, "sleep tight, you two."

and as you left the room, the soft glow of the night and the gentle hum of peace filled the air, your little family finally at rest.