#will I continue this? tune in to find out!

[muwapsturniolo]

Lovers Rock ₊˚⊹♡ M. Sturniolo

"Y-yeah, I want to kiss you."

⟢ mentions of drinking, parties, smoking, longing, loner!Matt, trouble! Reader, kissing, that's it, I think.

PT. 1

She was a drug.

Everything, from her clothes to the way she saw him, clouded his mind, infiltrating his senses—he couldn't get her out of his head.

He was addicted, and he needed another fix.

Chris was shocked when Matt started attending more and more parties, tagging along every weekend and putting on his best outfit. He'd watch the way Matt would sit on the couches or stand in the corner, nursing an Angry Orchard as his eyes darted around the scene.

It was like he was waiting for something—or someone.

He wanted to question him, demand a reason as to why he was suddenly attending parties and leaving the house, but he bit his tongue.

For the longest time, Chris had tried to get Matt out of his shell, inviting him to places and eventually forcing him to go. Now Matt was willingly going, and Chris didn’t want to ruin it.

"Whose party is this again?" Matt questioned as he followed the GPS, making a left turn when instructed. In the passenger seat, Chris tapped away on his phone, fully immersed in the small device.

"I’m not sure. Iris said it was her friend’s house, Trouble or something. Never met the person, but I heard her New Year's parties are—"

Matt tuned Chris out, his palms adjusting on the steering wheel as they grew sweaty. Much like the ones in the sky, he could feel the fireworks in his stomach, his body buzzing with nervousness.

After endless parties for weeks on end, he finally got to see her again.

Trouble.

Before he knew it, he was parking behind a few cars and walking down the concrete path, soon entering the backyard.

It seemed like one of those coming-of-age movies—people laughing and talking around the bonfire, drinks in hand. The naked trees had fairy lights strung around them, letting off a warm glow and creating a peaceful atmosphere. The house sat right in front of a lake, a dock attached, as well as a boat.

His admiration was interrupted by a drink being shoved into his hand by Chris. "Sorry, bro, no Angry Orchards. You're stuck with the hard stuff tonight!" Matt examined the red Solo cup, bringing it to his nose and sniffing, only to jerk back when the scent burned his nostrils. Chris cackled loudly, clapping his hands together in enjoyment.

"What the hell is this?"

"Don’t know, but drink up! It’s New Year’s!"

Matt looked back down at the cup, staring at his dark reflection.

Fuck it.

Chris cheered as Matt took a sip, laughing and clapping him on the back. "Hell yeah! That’s what I’m talkin’ bout!"

With that being said, the night was a whirlwind—endless drinking, people stripping and running into the freezing lake, and much more.

Matt could feel his head spinning, his vision hazy. He mumbled to himself as he fell into one of the many chairs, leaning back and sighing out, closing his eyes in relief.

"Hey, Blue..."

His eyes darted open, his head whipping to the side at the melodic voice.

There she was, all in her glory—Trouble.

"Got a vape?" she asked, just like she did the first time they met. It took a second for him to respond, his eyes fluttering rapidly before he finally spoke.

"N-no... It died today, and I couldn’t get another before Chris and I left... I brought my cigs though. Want one?"

He reached into his pocket, fetching the pack of Marlboro Reds and holding them out. She eyed the small box before plucking one from the pack and settling down in the chair next to him.

"Got a light?"

She leaned in, watching the flame dance in front of her as he lit the cigarette. She inhaled the smoke before blowing it out, mumbling a small "thanks" before gazing out toward the water.

"So..." Matt started, his mind trying to find the right words to say. She said nothing, simply smoking the cigarette and continuing to stare out toward the lake.

"You weren't at the last few parties."

"Correct."

"Why?"

She finally turned toward him, eyeing him up and down before responding. "The real question is, why were you at the parties? Last time I checked, you didn’t like them."

He went to answer but closed his mouth. How was he supposed to say, "Oh, I was only going because I believe I have a crush on you, even though we barely know each other," without sounding like an absolute freak?

She chuckled to herself, a small smile making its way across her face as she looked back at the lake. However, as quickly as the smile graced her face, it fell.

"You want to know the truth?"

She took another hit of the nicotine before answering her own question.

"The truth is... I hate parties. Most people see them as a fun group activity. At one point, I did too. But now... now it’s just a taunt, a painful reminder... I meant it when I said I see you."

A thick silence sat between them, the background noise turning into muffled static.

She looked down, feeling Matt's hand settle on top of her own, their eyes soon meeting.

"I see you too..."

He wasn’t lying, and she knew that.

Their moment was interrupted by shouting. "Ten minutes until countdown!" Everyone began to shout in joy, the noise only getting louder. The girl ashed the cigarette before standing up from her seat, looking down at him.

"You cold, Blue?"

He nodded, and she motioned for him to stand up. "Come on, let’s go."

He was curious as to where she wanted to take him, but he wasn’t complaining. He stood up, and his eyes widened as soon as his body began to tilt, the alcohol in his system hitting him all at once.

She caught him immediately, her hands finding their way to his shoulders as she steadied him. "Whoa, looks like someone had too much to drink." Despite the pounding headache he had, he chuckled at her words.

"Definitely too drunk to drive tonight. Come on, let’s get you somewhere so you can sober up."

Everyone paid them no mind as they walked toward the house, too distracted by their own actions to even care. They stepped inside, and she guided Matt up the stairs, down a hallway, and eventually into her room.

She helped him onto her bed, the boy kicking off his shoes and immediately slumping over into her pillows. She said nothing as she walked over toward her record player in the corner, flipping through her vinyls before finally settling on one. Just as she put it on the turntable, she heard Matt's voice.

"Will your boyfriend be mad?"

"Boyfriend? What boyfriend? And if I did have one, why would he be mad?"

She sat crisscrossed in the middle of the bed, her knee pressing into his hip. "The guy who grabbed you from the bathroom? Thought that was your boyfriend."

She laughed loudly at his explanation. "Kyle? Oh god, no, that’s just my best friend. I’d rather go see JoJo Siwa in concert than date him."

Matt's breath hitches as the girl lays down next to him, their shoulders touching.

Maybe it was the alcohol in his system, his mouth moving before his mind could stop him.

"Good."

"What's good?"

She turns her head to look at him, their eyes meeting once again.

"That you don't have a boyfriend..."

Their eye contact remains strong as their fingers hesitantly intertwine, the tension in the room growing with each breath. Just as Matt's eyes dart toward her lips, she abruptly sits up, her hand yanking away from his as she goes back into the corner, flipping through her vinyls once more.

Matt pushes himself up, his mind racing as he tries to figure out how to make his move.

She places a new vinyl on the turntable, adjusting the needle on the record before walking back over to the bed. The familiar tune of Fall Out Boy's "The Kids Aren't Alright" fills the space of the room, the faint start of the New Year's countdown being heard from outside.

"I like this song..." she says softly, taking Matt's hand and fiddling with his rings. He moves closer, their shoulders knocking into each other.

10

"Do you want to kiss me?" she asks suddenly, her eyes lingering on his lips as she looks at him.

9

He could feel the way his heart skipped a beat at her words, his fingers twitching in her grasp as he looked down at her own plump lips.

8

"Y-yeah."

7

"Y-yeah, I want to kiss you."

6

"Good..."

5

"Good," Matt adds on.

4

Silence.

3

"As the crooked smiles fade, former heroes who quit too late..."

2

"Who just wanna fill up the empty trophy case again."

1

"And in the end—"

Just as the countdown finishes and the chorus starts, their lips crash together, the fireworks shooting off behind them. The kiss was filled with longing, the two lonely souls seeking comfort in each other, craving something more.

They slowly pull away from the kiss, Matt’s hand cupping her face.

"Why'd you ask to kiss me?" he questions softly.

"Are you complaining?"

"Opposite, actually."

She kisses him once more, a quick but lingering peck.

"It's a foolish reason... I'm afraid I just wanted to."

[imnoonejustapiramide]

Chapter four

Upon a Chance | A Sensei wolf (Cobra Kai) x OC (older, European exchange student from Miyagi-Do that has a past she's trying to run from)

Previous chapter

Entering a nearby local pub, they, with surprise, were met with quite an inviting atmosphere, where it wasn't crowded for one, the lights casted a low glow and slow music played in the background.

They ambled over towards the darkly polished wooden bar counter. Lena then turned an amused brow at the towering man beside her when the barman came over.

"Well Wolf, what will it be," She murmered at him, which he in answer shook his head at in quiet amusement, all the while he let out a low grumble, which made her quirk her lips, and her eyes spark with interest at the atttactive sound.

Which wasn't the only attractive thing about the man, but Lena shook her head at the thought then.

He turned his head to the awaiting barman and in fluent Catalan ordered a scotch, which the barman simply nodded to, before he turned to her.

"The same as him," She simply says, which made the man beside her look upon her in interest now as well,

"And you speak Catalan as well, aren't you full of surprises." he murmered in appreciation, which she shook her head at with a grin.

"Likewise, although, I'm a bit rusty in it." She tells him, all the while she turns her attention to the barman, who is serving their drinks in front of them.

Taking a hold of their glasses, they then clink them against each other in a toast.

"So, what brings you to Barcelona?" Wolf then asks after taking a sip of his glass, while he watches her do the same.

Lena raises her eyes towards him then,

"Just visiting, you?" she tells him, which he quirks his lips at- at the guardedness of her answer, at the challenge of it all, of letting her open up to him, that is.

"The same." He then answers with a teasing edge, before he continues.

"Where did you learn to fight like that?" He then asks her, changing the subject to an easier one, but also because he was truly curious.

For she was good, great even.

"From my mother, who learned it from her brothers and so on- it is expected to know how to defend oneself in our family. And you?" She then lets out, before she awaits his answer in interest.

"Self-taught you can say, before I came under the tutelage of a sensei who fine-tuned my skills. " He opened, before he then continued to explain his journey to her, without truly letting out things that are better left unsaid, for he didn't want her to fly away just yet, not when he finds himself already enamoured with her.

The conversation then flowed naturally, and endlessly from there, with laughter mixed within and their voices dropping lower the longer they spoke, and leaned towards each other.

Their gazes held heat within them when one looked upon the other, unnoticed by by no one, but themselves. All the while everything around them blurred in the background.

Lena then felt a buzz go off in her pocket, which broke the spell between them.

Glancing at her phone, she then sighed, especially when she looked at the time. For it was really late.

Looking up at Wolf, who without even knowing the answer- seemed to understand.

"You're leaving," He then remarked, his tone neutral, while he locked his eyes on hers.

Wanting it not to end, even though he wouldn't openly say it.

"I do, I'm sorry." She told him, without anything more to it, for she did only promise him a drink, and while she liked - this, she wasn't the type to go 'home' with strangers.

Even when she felt an undeniable spark between them, and it didn't help that the man was rather handsome.

Pulling the barman over for the check she then quickly tapped her card on the reader without giving Wolf the chance to intervene, the soft answering beep signified her victory, which she then smugly grinned at.

"I'm a woman of my word, I did say that the drink was on me, " She simply explained to her companion, which he only huffs at.

"Yes, but you didn't have to," He remarked, amused but also exasperated.

She then stood up, but quirked her brow in surprise when she watched him do the same.

"You don't have to," She tells him, which he shakes his head at with a scoff, before he gazes intently at her.

"I want to." He simply says, before he moves his hand towards the door,

"Shall we?"

Lena only nodded, before they both walked towards the door, with Wolf gentlemanly holding the door once more open for her, which she thanks him for.

She then stretches her limbs outside in the crisp night air, with the distant hum of the city being the only sound around.

"I had a surprisingly good time," She then admits, her voice now more quiet, which he smiles at with a nod.

"So did I," He replied, his voice low, while his gaze was heavy with unspoken words.

"I'm going to go now-" She then announces before she slowly turns to go, but he then quickly, yet softly holds onto her hand, which took her by surprise.

His hold on her was firm, she looks to their joined hands then, before she slowly lifted her gaze to his burning one.

"Will I see you again?" He then asks her in a whisper, with an unguarded emotion, for he didn't want this to end.

Not yet at least.

Lena then studies him for a moment before a soft smile then forms on her lips.

"If fate allows it," She tells him with mischief, which he parts his lips at, before it stretches into a smile of his own. A quiet challenge simmered in the depths of his gaze, before they darkened and smoldered.

And hers softened in response then, and despite not wanting to do anything with the man, as she had wanted at first- she couldn't help but be drawn in by him.

The tension was palable then, and then he kissed her.

It was quick, searing and yet- surprisingly soft, and it lasted an eternity to them, when it in fact had been only for a moment. Warmth spread through their chests, making their hearts beat as one, and by the time their lips parted, with their breaths mingled, and lingering, for both were reluctant for it to end.

But she had to end it, for nothing good could come from this- and neither did she deserve to have anything good, for that sort of happiness wasn't meant for the likes of her.

And with a lingering gaze, she then stepped away, and finally walked away.

And Feng only watched as she dissapeared into the night, like a dream he had just woken up from, but the tingling feeling from his lips, and his racing pulse was proof enough that it hadn't been one.

My poor girl 🥲

And boy, I didn't know that I was going to do this so soon- but they KISSED OMG

Were you as surprised as I was?! If so, let me know! And what did you think of it, and the story overall? Pls tell me, don't be a silent reader, it doesn't matter if its short or small, I'd love to know what you think and it also gives me a boost to continue writing ya know )) <3

NEXT CHAPTER

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

RTA, how are you? Genuinely. I've seen you discuss your job. I've read the news. I know some of what is going on, but I can only imagine that's just one percent of the reality. How are you doing? Are you okay? I'm thinking of you and all your peers during this time. Thank you for all y'all do.

I'm doing ok, all things considered. My agency is statutorily mandated, which gives us a little bit of a safety net for now. We're still affected - most of it mentally and emotionally - by what's happening to our friends and peers, especially at agencies we partner and collaborate with. That part of it has been rough and will probably continue to get worse.

What has also been difficult is dealing with two particular groups of people: the people who don't understand why "we're rolling over and taking it up the ass" (as someone said to me over on Bluesky) and the people who are gleeful and ecstatic about what's happening to us.

To be clear: Reform is necessary. There is no federal employee who won't disagree that reform is needed and who won't support efforts to reform and improve the federal workforce. But reform needs to happen within scope of the law and most of what this administration is doing is illegal. They are breaking federal laws that protect the civil workforce. They are breaking statutorily-mandated chains of command to issue personnel directives. They are giving fraudulent, illegal justification for their actions.

The effect is that a lot of us - myself included - are checking out of the news and social media. We are disengaging from community because it's the only way we can focus on doing our work, manage these crises, and avoid as much trauma possible.

Sometimes it doesn't work. 6 people have taken their own lives because they lost their federal jobs (none that I know personally, but which I've read about on a fed forum) and there are probably many more, and many more to come, that we don't know about.

For me personally, all this means focusing more on myself and tuning out more of the outside. Less time on social media, including here. Turning off reblogs on certain posts. More time on my own hobbies like crafts, reading, and going to the movies. Doing what I can to prepare for an extended government shutdown or getting fired, like cutting down my expenses and eliminating extras. Taking time away from people who don't understand or only want to talk about politics. Finding joy and wins in the little things, like cooking my favorite meals and leaving enough for leftovers. Supporting small businesses, locally and nationally.

Federal employees cannot strike. It is illegal and a felony charge. By legal definition, a sickout is considered a strike, so sickouts are also illegal. We can peacefully protest and peaceably assemble, but the law is strict and for most of us, not worth the risk. Our jobs, our passion, our commitment to serve will outlast this administration. To outlast and to serve is resistance. We will do it quietly. We will do it within the scope of the law. We will not make it easy for them. We will make them drag us out of our cubicles and pry our keyboards or our tools or our equipment from our hands. But most of all, we will stay for the ones who cannot.

[deadhands69]

You Started It

Tomura Shigaraki x reader

Here's 76: “you started it!” Thanks for requesting this one @scary-grace and @shigarakislaughter I had other ideas but this kind of wrote itself so if you had anything else in mind, I can write another one [prompt from this list of three word prompts, feel free to send requests and I'll be working on them in the evenings over the next few weeks!] tattoo shop AU fluff Contains: mentions of needles, heavy making out and an implied suggestive comment (this is like pg-13), and it was clearly written by someone slightly shorter than Tomura so I guess mentally change the descriptions however you want.

The neon green ‘tattoo’ light in the window flickers. It’s been doing that on and off for weeks now, driving you all crazy. Probably fixable, you think every time you see it happening but none of you remember to do anything about it when you do have a free moment. You make a mental note.

Right now is not the time though.

Right now, you’re gloved-up and coating everything in a disinfectant so intense you’re not really sure how it’s legally available to the public. The clock rolls over to seven pm, it’s a late start to your day but in the slow season you’ll take what you can get. Tomura in the adjacent station is halfway through another huge video game tattoo on his roommate. Dabi’s client is looking at their new tattoo in the mirror. The others didn’t bother to show up, having no one on the schedule.

“Are you using my bottles?” you ask Tomura, staring the answer down in front of him. 

“Grabbed the wrong ones earlier, just use mine.”

“Ughh,” you groan at him, grabbing his and spraying them with more cleaner than you’d typically use. “You better scrub those really well. Last time you used mine I found ink on them after.”

“I know how to clean,” Tomura rolls his eyes at you. 

“No dude, you're fucking gross sometimes,” yells Dabi from across the room while he bandages the tattoo he just finished. 

“Hey,” Tomura complains over his shoulder, “don't say that in front of my client.”

“Your client is Spinner. Doesn't count,” you laugh. 

“Hey, I count!” yells Spinner, while Tomura grumbles at him to stop moving. 

“You know what I mean, you know him,” you quip back while wiping down your station. “I've seen how he is in here, and this is work. There's no way he isn’t an absolute slob at home.”

“Hah!” exclaims Spinner, once more prompting Tomura to groan at him before the latter puts all of his weight over the former's thigh to force him to stay still. “No, you’re right. He’s definitely a mess at home.”

“I clean fine,” Tomura mumbles. 

You watch as Spinner winces slightly at Tomura dry wiping his leg in retaliation before continuing, “you are capable of cleaning fine, absolutely. But your bedroom is full of trash and takeout boxes at any given time. So no, I wouldn't say that you're clean.”

“I'm busy,” Tomura grumbles, eyes flicking in your direction to see your reaction. His face flushes behind locks of long white hair. It's pretty, but you've always wondered how he can work like that. This sparks a bickering conversation between the two of them regarding what constitutes ‘busy,’ but you tune them out in favor of the work you need to do. 

A few minutes later, everything is wiped, wrapped, and organized. With your station ready, you wait. Hovering just close enough to see the lines on Spinner’s leg come together. It looks amazing.

Watching Tomura work is fascinating. As much as you love making fun of him, he's good at what he does. He also has nice hands, you note, paying careful attention to the way they flex through the gloves he's wearing. Plus, he's cute when he's concentrating. His eyes squint and he bites his bottom lip every time he has to pull a long line. It’s a face you’ve memorized. You find yourself staring at him a lot. He probably notices, but you don’t really care. 

Shortly after you first started working here, he asked you out. And like an idiot, you said no. Not wanting to mix your work and personal life (even if he is one of the most attractive humans you've ever met in an ethereal way that makes you wonder how he even exists.) At the time, you thought it probably wasn’t a big deal for him. Making the assumption that he asks people out on a regular basis because every other guy here does (which is valid, because they’re all attractive and that usually goes well for them.) However, putting together everything you’ve seen and what Spinner has said about Tomura’s personal life, you don’t think he goes on any dates even if he easily could. 

You think about it a lot. Running through every outcome of how things would have been different if you’d said yes. How the date would have gone. If you'd still joke like you do. You love spending time with him. Sometimes you even wonder if he has any interest now that he's actually gotten to know you. 

Probably not you decide, trying to shut the thought out of your mind. 

Toga from the front desk brings your client back. Perfect timing for a distraction. 

It's a little past eleven when Toga turns off the neon ‘open’ sign, dims the lights, and locks the door for the evening. 

“Have a good night!” she yells before exiting through the back door and disappearing down the street. Dabi left a few hours ago which just leaves you and Tomura still putting things away after cleaning up for the night. 

“Why'd you let Dabi tattoo you yesterday,” he asks while replacing your shared paper towel roll. 

“Because I liked the drawing he did and I wanted it as a tattoo.”

“You like my drawings too, you said so.” You nod. “So, why haven't you let me tattoo you yet?”

You didn't want to ask and be imposing or take too much of his time since he never offered to tattoo you, like Dabi who offered to trade, but more importantly: “Are you…jealous?”

“No, of course not,” Tomura says the words but his voice gives him away. 

“Oh. Well, I'd love to get tattooed from you sometime. Whenever you have time.” At the last minute you add sarcastically, “as long as you aren't too busy to clean everything before.”

He scoffs at you, walking around  the table to where your bottles are sitting (thankfully spotless, you note) on his tray. You grab two but he gets the third. 

“And for that,” he says holding it over his head, just out of your reach, “you're not getting this back.”

Okay. You'll bite. 

“Really?” you ask, trying to reach for it to no avail. Instead, you switch to using both hands to try to bring his arm down but he's surprisingly strong. You could tickle him but you aren't sure if he's ticklish. He seems like he would be though and he'd probably end up squeezing the bottle and spraying soap everywhere for you both to deal with. 

“Come on, give it back. You're so mean to me,” you pout but there's no real bite to your words. 

“You started it!” he retorts.

“Oh yeah? How did I start it?” you ask, still hanging off his extended arm. 

“By being mean to me first.”

“Fine then. Tomura, can you please give me the soap bottle back?”

“Hmmm. What are you going to do for it?” he smirks at you, flirting? Suddenly, you realize how close the two of you are standing. Your feet are firmly planted on either side of his worn red skate shoes, chests pressed together. 

“What do you want me to do for it?”

“I don't know,” he furrows his brow, “didn't think that far ahead.”

You try to shove him playfully but having just mopped, the floor is slippery. The two of you lose balance slightly before his free hand wraps around your waist to steady you. Your hands are gripping his shirt and you're close. Very close. 

His body feels warm against yours and firmer than you expected. You’re not sure why you thought he’d be bonier, but ‘toned guy who spends all of his free time playing video games alone’ isn’t a phrase that typically makes sense. Here you are though. In your surprise, you find your hands exploring more of him than you consciously chose to - running your fingers down his chest, around his ribs, and down the curve of his spine. In response, he wraps his other arm around you, bottle laying forgotten on the tray behind him. 

First you kiss his cheek, making tentative contact with his dry, but surprisingly soft, skin. His hold on you tightens as he exhales shakily. Slowly, you kiss your way across his face until your lips find his. They’re chapped, like usual, so you’re careful to not shove into him too hard. 

He isn’t.

His mouth moves desperately on yours. Kissing you passionately with force, like he’s trying to suck your soul from your body. You feel his fingertips digging into your shoulders, pulling you in as close as he can. Without breaking the connection, you push him a few steps back onto the table he just finished cleaning, climbing over his lap and straddle him as he lays back. He grabs your new tattoo on accident before immediately letting go at your slight recoil. Eventually, his hands find a safe place on your hips and yours tangle their way into his hair, which is also surprisingly soft for how messy he usually wears it. The two of you stay like this for a while, losing track of time. Not caring who can see you making out through the floor to ceiling windows as they pass. 

You pull back for air, opening your eyes to look down at him. He’s beautiful, even in the limited lighting.

He smiles up at you. His teeth are cute and crooked in a way that perfectly suits his face. You lean in again, kissing him with less urgency this time.

“Does this mean you changed your mind?” his lips move over yours as he speaks.

“Hmm?” you hum, too lost in the moment to figure out what he's referring to. 

“Am I good enough now?” you pull away fully to see his face. 

“What are you talking about? Good enough for what?” you ask, still staring at him in a daze. 

“To date you. You said no when I asked but you still seem into me. I figured you had a reason so I’ve been trying to be better.” When you don’t respond immediately, he jumps to more conclusions. “Is it the cleaning thing? Because that only happened once and I said I was sorry.”

“No, it's not that. It wasn't that. It wasn't anything you did. Uhm, that doesn't really matter right now.” You move a strand of hair out of his face, watching as he melts to your touch. “You’re definitely good enough,” you whisper, “what are you doing tonight?”

His mouth cracks open to give the most obviously flirty answer before biting his bottom lip for a moment and thinking it through. “No plans, but I’ve been working since two without a break so I’m not up for much.”

“That’s okay,” you murmur back, “want to get takeout and watch a movie or something?”

“Yeah,” he smiles at you again and the world spins. The two of you stand, grabbing your jackets to leave, and make your way out the door.

Tonight will be cute, fun. You’re not worried about the stray bottles you left between your stations. Or the few paper towels that didn’t make it into the trash can. You're not even thinking about the security camera footage that will inevitably be circulating between everyone in the shop before you both show up to work tomorrow.

masterlist

[akito-shinonome-daily]

➥ miku was right! that sekai energy led back to street sekai!

➥ whew, that was a crazy adventure!

➥ hold on…something’s still stirring….

➥ it’s everyone who we’ve seen along our journey!!

AND THUS CONCLUDES ANOTHER CHAPTER OF CHIBI AKITO’S ADVENTURES ACROSS WORLDS!

➥ chibi akito’s adventures will return day 400, so stay tuned to what else chibi akito gets up to! and like last time, any requests that i didn’t get to will be saved and up first when next time comes!

[atlasshrugd]

The first 2 chapters of WHITE DAYS, the sequel to WHITE NIGHTS, are up on ao3!

“How did you find me?” breathes Porsche. Hollow he sounds. Thin. Yet he gathers the sunlight to him as he stands there. And his voice still has the old resonance, its pure undertone of pain. “Do you really think there’s a place in this world where I wouldn’t find you?” [Or: Porsche hasn’t seen Kinn since he left the mafia world nine years ago. But when Kinn suddenly arrives at his beach bar on the coast of the San Jorge Gulf, they must relearn how to navigate each other again, as well as the inimitable questions of life, love, and death.]

[ Read here ]

[stop-breaking-my-heart-dragonage]

As much fun as I'm having doing my alternative run of DA2, one thing I really miss about my mage Hawke is his friendship with Merrill.

Those two are best friends and he's 100% supportive in her goals toward the eluvian. Ed has the humorous/charming personality, too, which bounces off super well with Merrill. He doesn't think any less of her for her usage of blood magic; if anything he's impressed by her level of strength and willpower. He's so ready to defend her from the other companions and the clan, and he's absolutely out here attempting to matchmake her and Carver....at least he is in my heart because the game won't let me, it's fine, I'm not bitter about it or anything-

But then my warrior Hawke? She has the diplomatic personality with quite a bit of direct/aggressive thrown in there and she ends up having the same attitude as that one party banter Aveline and Merrill have: "Merrill, you're clearly talented and meant for great things, but you're stupid," and that's so difficult for me to lean into. I'm trying to play Aris differently so she ends up being so condescending to Merrill, like she's trying to gently tell her to give up on the eluvian but it doesn't come off well.

Also if Carver was around, Aris would be the opposite of Ed, she'd look at the suggestion of her brother and Merrill getting together and be like, "No :) I don't think so :) I like Merrill, she's my friend :) but she's not right for Carver."

But I guess it makes sense; if you told him that Bethany would giggle and kick her feet and twirl her hair around Sebastian, Ed would've thrown him in the ocean as a warning. Meanwhile, Aris is like, "A handsome prince that could take my sister away from all of this? Wonderful, we just need to work on his incorrect views on mages, but that shouldn't be a problem :)"

Anyway I miss playing Hawke as the #1 Merrill stan.

[farmboy-jimie-stardew]

Hmm... I wonder...

Aha! It's paint! ....I knew that.

[lover-of-mine]

this is like the start to some very good mutual pining fics. why cant you date him???

ASKAOSKOAKS yk, I was thinking that if my life was a tv show the team slowburn angsty friends to lovers is having a great week because of recent developments. But basically, we met almost exactly 12 years ago, we bonded because I had a crush on his best friend at the time, he had a crush on my best friend at the time and they didn't want to date us lol and then we just stuck around. But we kinda cursed ourselves by bonding over wanting other people because there are always other people involved, he's currently in a very messy on/off relationship and they are taking some space to figure shit out, and he lives in a different city, but I live in the same city as his mom, he came to see her, we ended up spending about 10 hours together, things were said, questions were asked, feelings might've been uncovered, because I never truly thought about the possibility of me having feelings for him before Saturday, like I think he's hot, but I never thought beyond the vague awareness that I think he is attractive lol, like seriously, if you asked me last week I would've confidently said it's not like that between us, someone literally asked me on Saturday if I was his gf and I just laughed, but he went back to his city, we see each other once every 2 years at this point, I don't know how he's feeling, so like, I'm not sabotaging our friendship because I'm confused because we kissed at 5 am after a night out lol but realistically, we both had issues with long-distance relationships in the past and that's not something either one of us would be willing to get into even if without the other complications, so I can't date him logistically even if this was a thing that we multually want, which I'm honestly not sure, because I'm pretty sure he's gonna get back together with his ex, so I'm in pretend it never happened mode, repression at it's finest. But things to add to the fanfic plots: all of his exes are me in different fonts, even he can admit that, every time I break up with someone he says and I quote "you need to find someone who sees you like I do", we can't go anywhere together without someone assuming we are a couple and this has been happening the whole time we've known each other, I'm pretty sure his mom and sisters have a bet going on whether we end up together or not because of the way they react to us hanging out, we will constantly spend so long talking about absolutely nothing it was a real problem when we were teenagers because we lived like, 2 blocks away from each other, so we would walk back towards home, sit in this bench that's in the midway from my house and his and then suddenly both our parents were calling because we missed curfew by an hour but we've been sitting somewhere we can see both our houses for like, 3, like that guy cannot get me to shut up lol, we have a pact to get married in 2029 if we fail to find love until then, but we also promised to be each other best woman/man of honor, he's not big on physical touch, he doesn't like people in his space, but I'm a physical touch person, and he always lets me play with his fingers when I'm stressed and that's legit the nicest thing someone constantly does for me because sometimes I don't even notice and the dude is giving me his hand, I have a tendency to surround myself with things his favorite color when I miss him, if I'm around he constantly just looks at me to fact check whatever story he's telling because he thinks I remember more stuff about his life than he does, and I'm typing this out and thinking about the past 12 years for the past week and I'm sitting here like "for the love of god am I in a fucking 500k words slowburn friends to lover fic" I don't know, it's very complicated but here I am. I don't know if you ever watched Love, Rosie, but I feel like what I imagine Rosie felt finding the letter and calling Alex just to find out he's engaged aoskaokaoskaksasss

[mono-blogs-art]

i'm glad we kept watching petrichor because the jump in quality between eps 2 and 3 was insane. i'm actually really enjoying the show now! there's still some dumb stuff, and tul keeps being incredibly fucking unprofessional with dr ran, but their cutesy teenage uwu romance is so adorably cringe that i'm willing to forgive them

[nymphoheretic]

Not Through Yet

Warnings: implied marathon sex, implied breeding, mentioning of pregnancy, unprotected sex, squirting, overstim, reader/MC passes out, praise, dirty talk, oral sex (fem!receiving), cum eating, caleb's arm has a useful feature (let me know if I'm missing anything)

Word count: 2.1k (I wrote this with my pussy on the keyboard)

A/N: This is straight smut all 2.1k of it and is kinda like a continuation of Unwanted Reunion, but can be read as standalone!

AO3

Network: @eveningatthemoviesnetwork

“C-Caleb, gunna cum...”

How many times have you said this sentence? How long has it been since Caleb pulled you from that interrogation room to his quarters on the Fleet’s ship to fuck you over and over, driving your body into overstimulation and making you so sensitive that the feeling of your own sweat rolling down your body was enough to make you cry out so wantonly. 

Every methodical drag of his cock through your gummy walls was enough to make your body tremble with another onslaught of shivers. You whimper when he turns your head to face his, lips finding yours and his tongue delving deep. Your pussy squeezes his cock just right, milking his balls of his seed as you drench his shaft in your creamy arousal.

“Go ahead. I’m right behind you, princess.” He moans so sweetly against your lips, a string of saliva still connects your tongues as he pumps his hips into your at a much slower pace than he had been. It was as if he was contradicting his words and prolonging your orgasm. The steady wet clap of his balls smacking against your sensitive, overstuffed cunt was almost enough to send you back spiraling.

Your back arches away from the bed, arms heavy from exhaustion as you lift them to wrap around his neck. “Can’t cum anymore, Caleb...s’tired...need t’rest.” His lips move to brush over your forehead as he pants out, hips still continuing their slow roll into yours. Caleb peppers kisses all over your sweaty forehead and down your cheek until he reaches your lips again. They were swollen from the many times he’s sucked them into his mouth, nibbled on them, just tasting your lips repeatedly. He couldn’t get enough of you. Caleb needed more of you. Feeding you his tongue to silence your whine, his left hand crawls down between your thighs and rubs slow, steady circles on your clit, working you up to another orgasm after the one you just had. “You got plenty in there for me, right? Yes, you do. C’mon~ Give me what I want, sweetheart.” Caleb coaxes gently, yet his tone was still even. Like he wasn’t being affected by the sheer overstim he was putting you both through.

You moan as your cunt releases its juices quickly over the thrumming of your clit pulsing under his fingers as he plucks at it like a finely tuned instrument. Your slick dribbles out, running down the crack of your ass to join the large, growing wet spot under you, drenching the sheets. “Fuck! Caleb! I can’t anymore!” Caleb simply curls his arms around your head, caging you in as his hips pick up in speed, the lewd schlick of your velvet heat taking his cock ringing out in the room. He couldn’t stop; wouldn’t stop. Not until you were swollen with how much of his cum he’s pumped inside you. Not until he’s gotten his fill of you. Until he’s gotten in a year's worth. But even then he wouldn’t be satisfied. Caleb craved you; vowed to always be there for you; to always protect you. And that’s what he was going to do.

He drags his cock through your slick walls, grunting at the way your walls cling to his shaft and trying to suck him back in deeper. A chuckle vibrates in his chest tingling down your lips as he suckles your tongue briefly before letting go. His thumb comes up to break away the thin string still connecting your lips, smearing it over yours as he smirks down at you. “That’s not what she’s saying.”

His hips snap into yours, thick cockhead battering against your cervix, kissing at the entrance to your womb. Sweat rolls down the side of his face, the clear droplet hanging from his chin until it splatters down onto your collarbone. “She is squeezing me so tightly, little one. It almost makes it hard to keep thrusting.”  He brings his bionic arm up to his lips and licks the tip of his middle and ring fingers, coating them in his saliva. “My hand also has a special feature I thought about just for you.”

You gasp when the cold digits touch your hot flesh as he trails them down your belly, a gentle vibration skimming across your skin. “Caleb, what?” You look down at his hand and see the fingers whirling and humming as they shake softly. Your head falls back against the pillows as your back arches away from the bed, hips pressing more into his as his fingers touch your clit. “Fuck! That’s feels...ah~” Your words are cut off in another fevered moan as Caleb rubs slow circles around your throbbing nub.

Caleb smiles sweetly, eyes full of affection, desire, and need as his cock batters against your womb, vastly contracting against his sweet words as his fingers vibrate on your clit. His lips find your sweaty forehead, tongue slipping out to collect the droplets of sweat to taste the salt of your skin as he presses tender kisses. “You used to always like when I did this~” His fingers press harder against your throbbing nub, the buzzing from the vibrations sending the neurons in your brain alight as your body bucks.

“Oh my god! Caleb!” Your voice comes out in a loud cry as your tears fall faster down your cheeks as the sting of overstim settles in your bones. Your clit twitches violently under his touch as your pussy clamps down tightly on his girth. You manage to jerk your legs away from your chest to wrap them tightly around his waist. “You’re gonna make me cum again. Oh, please?!” “Please?” He repeats in a teasing mockery mimic of your voice as his free hand comes to cup your jaw, his chest pressing into yours and making your overly sensitive nipples rub against his sweat slick skin and making you cry out even louder. He could feel the way your walls quiver around him. “Come on, little one. Stop being stubborn and let her wet me up again. You know you want to.” the vibrations quicken as he turns your face towards his, his tongue dipping out to curl into your mouth and swallows your screams.

Your back arches violently, nails of one hand digging into the sheet under you as the other rips through the flesh of his back. You feel him hissing against your lips as your dig your nails deeper into the muscles of his face, pussy clenching tightly around his shaft as your juices leak out of you like a faucet. The spray of hot liquid drenches his lower abdomen, thighs, pelvis, and drips down his shaft to soak up his balls. Cooling droplets roll down the crack of your ass before joining the pooling wet spot underneath you.

His grunts morph into moans as his hips studder, your slick walls massaging and trying to milk his cock for his seed. “Fuck...she’s clamping down on me so tightly. She must really be hungry for my cum? You want me to cum inside you. To fill you up and fuck it deeper before cleaning you up with my tongue, princess?” Caleb’s lips curl into a sweet smile when all you could do was let out babbles and broke pleas of his name. 

“Yeah? Say my name.” His left hand trails down your neck to your belly, fingertips swirling over the small bulge his cock was making. “Feel me right here, princess?” Caleb teases, making you whine out and tighten your legs around his waist. A chuckle vibrates through his chest as he leans back in and presses the sweetest of featherlight kisses to your lips as his cock twitches with your depths. 

A guttural moan leaves his throat as he snaps his hips and his back straightens, his heavy balls drawing up as his cum paints your insides white in his color. “Fuck, princess. That’s a good girl. Taking my cum like the slutty girl you are for me.” His right hand stops vibrating, your juices sliding down the digits as he brings them to your lips. “Go on, clean them up for me then I’ll clean up my mess.”

“Your mes-mmmph~” Your words are cut off in a muffled moan as Caleb slips his soaked metal fingers past your parted lips. You whimper at the musky taste of your own slick and the metallic tang of his fingers running over your taste buds and your eyes slide close. A hum vibrates in the muscles of your throat and chest as your curl your tongue over the cool digits, warming them with your saliva before swallowing around them.

“Atta girl...” His lilac eyes swirl with lust as he watches you clean his hand of your squirt as he slowly drags his cock through your sensitive gummy walls, his cum sloshing around from the movement. He eases his softening dick out your fucked out little hole and slowly dropped open mouth kisses down your chest. His tongue curls over one nipple, worshiping it his his teeth with light nibbles before moving down lower. His lips nuzzle against your belly; one day it will be rounded with his child.

 One day.

His kisses trail lower until he has your thighs cupping his head. Caleb’s eyes lock on the thin glob of his cum that oozes out of your hole and his mouth waters a bit. Resisting the urge to use two of his fingers to scoop it back in and push it in deeper, his tongue lolls out. The pointed tip of his pink muscle strokes over your slit from bottom to top, collecting the string on the flat of it. He moans at the taste of his sticky cum mixing with your slick as it spreads over his taste buds. Caleb feels you jolt, your hands flying to tangle in his hair to probably stop him, but he uses his evol to make your wrists fly above your head and pin them to the mattress.

He moves his hand from your mouth as his cups his hands under your ass to bring your cunt to his ravenous mouth. One taste of your combined fluids and he was hooked. His tongue slithers into your gushing hole, seeking out more of his cum because he knows that he’s stuffed you so full of it by now. He shakes his head like a hungry dog, sweat dripping down his forehead and making his bangs stick to it in wet clumps. Lewd slurping sounds come as his lips suckle at your clit, tongue wriggling inside your clenching pussy.

Your back arches even more due to his grip on your ass as he lifts you up, your hips off the bed as your upper back and shoulders still rests on the mattress. You try to pry your wrists from the strength of his evol to no avail as he begins to feast  on you, the lewd slurping and swallowing filling the bedroom. Your mouth parts in a scream as your nerves are driven past the point of overstimulation. “Ca-Caleb! I-” Your words die off in another scream as the white hot coil in your lower belly winds tighter and tighter with every greedy lick and slurping of his tongue.

He suctions his mouth to your hole to suck out every last drop of his cum out your pussy, his nose bumping against your overly engorged clit. His eyes slide close as the musky taste of your juices mixed with his seed continues to flow over his tastebuds, He couldn’t get enough as his cock twitches back to life and pre slowly beads in the slit to dribble down his shaft. “Come on. Let me taste her. Let her squirt down my throat.” His left hand raises slightly and smacks down on the firm globe of flesh that was your ass, the skin jiggles lightly.

You could feel black spot forming in your vision as your chest heaves, your stomach caving in as you cum hard on his relentless tongue. Squirt, hot and runny, filling his mouth and running down his throat as he eagerly swallows it all down. Your body goes limp in his hands as the black spots increase, spreading over your vision completely. “Ca-leb....” You whisper out before exhaustion finally claims you.

Caleb pulls away from your delicious cunt, his lower face wet and shiny. His eyes immediately try to catch yours and panic settles in his chest when he sees you passed out. “Shit.” He curses as he lays you down in a dry spot on the bed. He crawls up to cradle your face in his palms and looks at your peaceful sleeping face and lets out a sigh of relief. “For a Hunter, we need to work on your stamina, little one.” He chuckles as he presses a sweet kiss to your sweaty forehead. “Get some rest. You’ll need it for later. I’m nowhere through with you.”

2022-25 nymphoheretic - I do not give permission to copy, edit, alter, or distribute my work. Do not adverse on tiktok. Do not repost on any other platform. I only have tumblr and AO3.

[mggslover]

Between the lines

In which Spencer crosses paths with the woman he's been dreaming about. Their undeniable attraction turns fantasy into reality.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader Genre: smut (18+) x fluff Content warnings: lots of build up, perv!spence, lovesick!spence, lots of flirting, teasing, sex toys, p in v sweet sensual sex Word count: 4,6k A/n: part two of through thin walls! you can read this as a standalone, but it's a short one so give it a try ;)

It had been three weeks since Spencer last had a nightmare. Ever since his neighbor—a woman he had yet to meet—moved in next door, his nights had been calm, peaceful. Sleep had become something he looked forward to, but it wasn’t just sleep itself. It was the moments before, the quiet waiting in anticipation that became part of his routine.

Every time he came home from an exhausting case, he would crawl into bed and lean back against the headboard, his body settling as he awaited a movement from the apartment next to him. Feeling a sense of relief when her sweet moans would slip through the thin wall.

It didn’t take Spencer long to find a pattern in her routine. On weekdays, it was quick, urgent. The soft moans would rise, then fall—until Thursday. Thursdays were different. He could tell by the muffled groans and the frustrated sighs, that she was unable to find the release she so desperately sought. She would let out a final huff, signalling Spencer to stop his movements.

He was aware that he had no obligation towards the woman, but he found no pleasure in the act of touching himself when he knew she wasn’t enjoying herself. These days left a toll on him. Irritated by the fact that he couldn’t just knock on her door with the suggestion of helping her out. But luckily, there were still the weekends. The weekends were good. Her sessions stretched longer, her pleasure unraveling slowly but intensely. Spencer never managed to keep up alongside her, but he couldn’t help continuing to listen as he laid down with his eyes closed. Savoring each breath, each moment as he found peace in the fact that she felt satisfied by the end of the night.

It wasn’t every day that they would share intimate moments like these. On times she didn’t indulge, Spencer found comfort in the other sounds of her life. Hearing her television hum in the background, not loud enough to make out the words, but her occasional laughter—or her soft humming along with a song—was enough to remind him she was there, just beyond the walls.

It was strange, to feel such familiarity with someone he had never spoken to, someone who’s name he didn’t even know, but somehow Spencer had grown very attached to her presence. He often wondered what the rest of her life looked like. Making it a game to fill in the blanks with the inkling of behaviour he had.

One thing he could confidently profile was her loneliness. Whether that was by choice or by circumstance, or a mixture of both, he didn’t know. Only that he has never heard another voice besides hers, not even the typical hellos and goodbyes one would make on a phone call. He hoped she was settling in well, wishing he could bring her the comfort she has given him since her arrival.

It was noon, on a rare day where Spencer didn’t have to go to the office. But Spencer wasn’t the type to sit still on his free days. He grabbed his saddlebag from the leather chair next to the door, whistling a tune under his breath as he looked for his keys. He unlocked the door with a quick turn of the handle, but before he could step out, a yelp echoed from the hallway.

“I’m sor-,” he froze mid-apology, the automatic reply getting stuck in his throat as he processed the familiar sound. That gasp—it was embedded in his memory, a sound he could recognize anywhere, even though the circumstances were completely different. His cheeks flushed, heat spreading across his face, and he found himself afraid to tilt his head, knowing who he would face.

“It’s okay, don’t worry! I should’ve looked out.” The voice apologized.

Spencer’s mind scrambled. He wanted to tell her that he should be the one apologizing, that it was his fault for slamming the door open without considering who might be walking through the shared hallway. But all he could manage was a strangled silence, his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth.

He swallowed, forcing himself to look up. His stomach fluttered and his pupils blew wide as he made eye contact with her. She was more beautiful than anything beyond his wildest dreams. He was almost ashamed for picturing her any less than she is. He felt flustered as his mind began piecing her face and body together with the sounds that he’s been eavesdropping on for the past couple of weeks.

He realized how awkward he was making the situation when she looked up at him with big eyes, clearly waiting for some kind of response.

“Did you like my cookies?” She asked, breaking the quiet, her voice a little hesitant but genuine.

Spencer blinked, surprised at the question, his mind struggling to catch up. "Cookies?" he repeated, brows knitting together in confusion.

The girl noticed his expression and rushed to explain. “I brought you cookies,” she said, her hands moving slightly, as if trying to emphasize the story. “When I first moved in here.”

Spencer stayed quiet, getting her to elaborate further. “You weren’t home. I left them on your doorstep,” she continued, a little sheepishly.

He nodded, letting out a small sigh as he made the connection. “It’s my neighbor,” he pointed to the door to the left of him with a vague sweep of his hand, the gesture almost apologetic. “The other one. Miss Cavanaugh. She has a habit of stealing.”

Her eyes widened in surprise, and her mouth hung slightly open at the casualty in which he mentioned this fact.

“Oh no, don’t worry! she won’t steal from you.” He quickly corrected, raising his hand to wave off any concern. “Well, she might but it’s not likely she’d, like, break into your apartment. That would be a criminal act—breaking and entering—which is a felony in all 50 states. Actually, it's a federal offense in certain circumstances.” He glances off to the side for a moment, thinking, then gestures with a loose hand.

“My point is, she’s more of a, uh, casual thief, if that makes sense? Like, you know, she might nab food or a basket or something left outside, but the odds of her actually coming into your apartment are really low. Statistically speaking, this building has an impressively low crime rate for DC, especially for this price range. It’s safer than 75.3% of comparable buildings in the area.”

His brows furrowed together at the end of his sentence, as if his brain just caught up with his words. “I’m rambling, aren’t I?”

The corners of her lips lifted, a soft but genuine smile lighting her face.

“That’s good to know. I didn’t do that much research when I moved in here.” She held out her hand, introducing herself.

Her hand was smaller than his, and without thinking, he clasped it gently between both of his, needing to know if he indeed had the connection with her he assumed he had. The touch sent a jolt through him, feeling the spark of electricity he was hoping for. He surprised himself with how much he didn’t want to let go and, more so, how she didn’t pull away.

"I’m Doctor Spencer Reid," he said, his voice softer now, tinged with a genuine awe as he looked at her.

Her eyebrows rose in curiosity. “Doctor, huh? Good to know there’s one next door in case I drop dead.”

“Oh, uh—” His words came in a tumble as he rushed to explain. “Not a medical doctor. I’m with the FBI. I specialize in criminal behavior. So if you were to, say, die by murder, I’d be the one—uh, the one investigating it.”

The words hung in the air for a beat longer than he intended, and before he could stop himself, he added, “Not that I want you to die, or—uh, be murdered. That’s… that’s not what I meant at all. I mean, if there was even a chance someone wanted to hurt you, I’d make sure to stop it before it happened, but—”

Her laugh, bright and airy, caught him off guard. She then tilted her head slightly, studying him in a way that made her seem like the profiler.

“I’ll see you around, Spencer,” she finally said, her voice teasing but kind. His cheeks flushed at the way his name rolled off of her tongue.

Before he could respond, she turned on her heel and walked off. Spencer couldn’t tear his eyes away from her, her presence lingering even after her figure disappeared down the hall. He stood frozen in the doorway, his heart racing from the exchange.

When he finally stepped back inside, he closed the door and leaned heavily against it, letting out a groan.

He’d forgotten all about the plans he previously had. Instead, his thoughts swirled around her—even more curious about his neighbor than he was before. As he replayed their brief exchange, one thing became startlingly clear: he needed to see her again.

It was like faith heard him. Later, on that evening, Spencer stepped into the laundromat of the apartment complex, the soft hum of dryers and the faint smell of detergent filling the air. He just finished taking his laundry out of the dryer when he saw her—standing at one of the machines, pulling her clothes out with an ease that made the mundane task look almost elegant.

Spencer moved toward her, a little too quickly, and nearly bumped into a man coming the other way. “Sorry,” he mumbled, placing his basket down beside hers.

Her eyes flicked up, catching his gaze immediately. The air between them shifted, filled with an undeniable spark.

“Hi, Doc,” she greeted with a warm smile. “We meet again.”

“Hi,” Spencer managed, his voice a little breathless.

He glanced down at the pile of laundry. “Sock day?” he asked with a smirk, genuinely curious.

She chuckled softly. “More like underwear day in general. I like to stick to a schedule.”

“Me too!” Spencer eagerly responded, excited to have something in common with her.

She sighed as she held up a sock, contemplating its mate. “Underwear day is the worst though. It’s going to take me hours to match these.”

Spencer gave a quiet laugh. “I gave up on that a while ago.” He casually rolled up his pants, revealing mismatched socks—one green with avocados, the other purple with yellow stripes. “It’s more fun this way.”

She crouched down to get a better look, her eyes scanning the colorful mismatched pair. Spencer bit down on his lip. The act was so innocent, but his thoughts wandered, imagining what it might be like if she were kneeling for a different reason.

Jesus, it feels like I swapped brains with Derek.

He cleared his throat, wiping his clammy hands on his pants. She noticed, getting back on her feet, though she didn’t seem embarrassed. If anything, her eyes twinkled with excitement.

“It is more fun that way,” she agreed. “You see a serious guy like you, dressed up all neat and then, poof, funky socks. Like magic.”

His face brightened at the mention of magic. “I could show you another magic trick—a sock trick.”

She snorted, clearly intrigued. “A sock trick?”

Spencer’s confidence grew, knowing he could impress her and wanting to make her smile again. He grabbed a polka-dot sock from his laundry basket, holding it up between his fingers.

“Alright. I’m going to take this sock…” He moved with exaggerated care, his hands precise as he folded the sock in half, then folded it again. “And just like that, I’m going to make it disappear.”

He made a quick move, waving his hands dramatically to hide how he tucked it into the waistband of his pants. “See? Gone.”

She looked at him with wide, amused eyes. “You can’t be serious. Where did it go?”

He smirked and leaned in. “Ah, but that’s the trick—you have to keep an eye on me.” The back of his fingers softly trailed up her cheek, his confidence growing as he felt the heat radiating off her. In one smooth motion, he pulled the exact same sock from behind her ear.

Her mouth dropped open in surprise. “No way.”

“Now look in your basket.”

She shook her head in disbelief. She looked at her laundry pile, and sitting right on top was the matching polka-dot sock.

She threw her head back, laughing, overwhelmed with amazement.

Spencer chuckled softly, enjoying her reaction. “I grew up in Vegas, so I’ve had some practice—but the real magic is in the timing. You were too focused on me to notice the disappearance.”

His words were meant as a mere observation, but the realization seemed to dawn on both of them. She had indeed been too focused on him—only him.

The tension between them grew. She toyed with her lip, and he adjusted the collar of his shirt as they maintained eye contact.

“Laundromat is closing, folks! Everybody out in five minutes.” The announcement through the speakers made them both jump, shaken out of the trance they were in.

“Can I walk you to your apartment?” Spencer asked.

Her eyes glistened, and her smile reached the corners of her mouth. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

They walked out of the laundromat, continuing their small talk about magic and life while sharing the occasional giggle. The stairway was too narrow to walk side by side—especially when carrying a big laundry basket—but that didn’t seem to bother them. The sides of their bodies brushed, their pace matching as they ascended the stairs. Spencer kept an arm behind her back, ready to steady her if she stumbled.

They arrived at their neighboring apartment doors. The air was filled with a mix of the sorrow of their encounter ending and the anticipation of a new one.

The scene almost felt like the end of a first date. Tension hung in the air as they shifted back and forth on their feet, wondering if a goodbye kiss would follow.

“This is mine,” Spencer commented.

She let out a breathy chuckle. “I know.”

After a moment of lingering eye contact, she decided to take the lead.

“Good night, Spencer.” She smiled softly.

“Good night,” he repeated.

Spencer felt a rush of joy as he closed the door behind him. Flirting wasn’t his strong suit. In fact, he wasn’t even sure if their exchanges today could be considered flirting. But there was something comfortable about it. Something effortless. And, most importantly, he’d made her laugh. Several times.

Lost in his thoughts, Spencer set his laundry basket down on the table, preparing to fold the clothes. He wasn’t paying attention as he reached inside—until his fingers brushed against an unfamiliar material.

He looked down with a frown. In his hand was a pair of red laced panties. His throat tightened, and for a moment, he could only stare at them in disbelief.

A vivid image flashed in his mind—those same red panties, nestled in his neighbor’s laundry basket. He frowned deeper, replaying their interaction in his mind. Could I have taken them by accident? He was sure he hadn’t. With an eidetic memory, he’d be able to remember something like that.

His confusement and worry were quickly overcome by a feeling of curiosity and lust. Spencer’s fingers lingered over the fabric, the soft lace slipping between them.

It wasn’t difficult to imagine her in it. The delicate lace tracing the curve of her waist, the soft dips and rises of her hips. Her body seemed to shimmer in the dim glow of his imagination.

Slowly, almost imperceptibly, she shifted in his mind. His fingers curled slightly around the fabric, imagining the way it would feel against her skin as she moved. She lowered her hands, fingers trailing over her body as she slid the lace downward, over the curve of her hips, the fabric teasing the soft swell of her backside. He could almost hear it—the quiet rustle of the lace moving, sliding over her skin as she undressed, the tension in his chest building with each slow, deliberate motion.

His heartbeat quickened as he imagined her pulling the panties lower. The lace graced the insides of her legs, following the shape of her thighs as she removed it with such ease, such grace. And then, just like that, it was gone. The fabric fell, pooling at her feet, leaving her standing before him, utterly exposed.

As his fingers twisted the delicate lace, the image of her in his mind began to fade, slipping away like a dream that was never meant to stay. His subconscious seemed to know that any attempt to imagine her would only fall short. With a quiet exhale, Spencer loosened his grip, folded the lace carefully, and tucked it into his pocket—out of sight, out of mind.

He decided to lie down on his bed, not to sleep, but simply to relax. But his body had other ideas. Before he knew it, his eyes had closed, and his mind had drifted off. The soft purr of his name pulled him from his light doze.

For a moment, Spencer thought he was in heaven—that his pulse had quickened from the thought of her and now he found himself in a place where he could hear her voice calling out his name, like an angel. But as his eyes fluttered open, he realized the voice was more muffled and coming from behind the wall.

“Spencer? Spencer, can you hear me?”

Startled, he swiftly propped himself up on his elbows, his mouth parting before he swallowed his words. Admitting that he could hear her—especially after the sounds from the previous nights—felt like a confession. The idea of those nights ending made his chest tighten, but if it meant he could speak to her again, it was a sacrifice he was willing to make.

“Yes. I can hear you,” he called back, his voice a little louder.

A long silence followed. Spencer cursed himself, anxious that he’d ruined it. But then, he heard the soft, familiar buzz.

“What about this? Do you hear this?” she asked, a playful edge to her voice.

“I- I do. What is it?” Spencer asked, his curiosity peaked.

Her giggle echoed softly through the wall, and his chest tightened with warmth. He smiled without thinking, his heart aching at the sound.

“You don’t know what this is?” she amusingly teased.

“No,” he admitted, sheepish.

“It’s a vibrator, Spencer.”

Her words hit him like a sudden jolt of electricity. He could feel the heat rise in his face, but then came her sweet laughter again. Spencer shook his head, smiling despite himself.

“Have you ever tried it?” she asked, her voice sounding almost daring.

Spencer quietly responded. “No.”

“Would you like to?”

“I- I don’t know,” he murmured. “Maybe.”

A beat of silence passed, before she spoke again.

“You could come over and find out.”

Spencer’s face went red, his heart pounding in his chest. “N-now?”

“Yes, now,” she answered with a soft chuckle.

Spencer scrambled off the bed, his pulse racing as he hurried toward the door, afraid she might change her mind. He forced himself to stop when he stood in front of her apartment, drawing in a deep breath to steady the surge of nervous excitement. The moment he’d been fantasizing about for so long was a knock away from becoming reality.

Knock, knock.

The door creaked open, and Spencer was met with the breathtaking sight of her.

She stepped aside and gave him that look—the one that made every nerve in his body stir with need. “Come in.”

“Are you sure?” Spencer’s voice barely made it out, thick with anticipation.

She didn’t answer with words. Instead, she moved toward him, lifting onto her toes as she placed her hand on the back of his neck, the touch sending a shiver down his spine. And then, she kissed him.

There was no rush behind her soft lips. It wasn’t frantic like his thoughts had been. It was gentle—like she was savoring the moment just as much as he was.

She slowly lowered herself back to her feet, and she gazed up on him, a soft smile on her lips, eyes twinkling.

It took Spencer a moment to process what had just happened, but once he did, he pulled her back in, his lips crashing into hers with desperate urgency. She responded in kind, her hands sliding into his hair, tugging him closer. His breath came in shallow gasps as he lifted her, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist, and he carried her to the wall. Their bodies pressed against the same wall that had once held their whispered breaths.

His mind felt like it was spinning—this was real, she was real, and he was touching her. His lips trailed down her neck, the soft skin beneath his mouth sending sparks of desire through him.

“Spencer,” she murmured, and the sound of her voice made his heart stutter. He responded by lifting his lips from her skin, needing to look at her—to drink her in, to memorize every detail.

She met his gaze, her lips parted. “Take it off,” she breathed, pulling at his shirt, her hands shaking with the same feverish need.

Spencer stepped back slightly, eyes never leaving her, and pulled his shirt over his head. His eyes traced every inch of her as she began to undress too, throwing her clothes aside.

“Fuck,” he whispered to himself as she revealed her nude body, wearing no underwear underneath the clothes she just took off.

She smirked, her gaze burning into his. “I told you it was underwear day.”

He let out a breathy chuckle, shaking his head. “God, I’ve dreamed about this,” he murmured, his voice hoarse with awe and desire.

Her lips curled into a satisfied smile as she pulled him back into her embrace, their bodies stumbling towards the bed. She fell softly onto the sheets, and he moved on top of her, capturing her lips in a lingering kiss.

Spencer began to pepper her with kisses, unsure where to start. He hummed as his tongue swiped along the curve of her neck. His wet kisses trailed down to her collarbones, leaving purple marks on his way down, each one encouraged by her sweet moans.

As he moved further up the bed, his knee brushed against something. His focus shifted as he noticed the small, purple object. “Is this it?” he asked, curiously, and she nodded.

He picked it up, noticing it was smaller than his index finger. As he rolled the toy in his hand, it suddenly buzzed to life, making him jump back. She laughed at his reaction, clearly amused.

He quickly figured out how to stop the buzzing and he hovered above her, tracing her lips with the toy. She instinctively opened her mouth, her tongue rolling around it.

“Good girl,” he hummed. “That’s it.”

She moaned softly as she closed her lips around it, sucking gently while maintaining eye contact. He slowly slid the vibrator from her lips, its surface glistening with the trace of her tongue. Turning it on again, he moved it to her nipple, the bud instantly hardening. She let out quiet whimpers, her body trembling with the sensation.

Once satisfied, he placed his mouth on her nipple while the vibrator moved to the other one. She arched her back with a moan as he sucked on the sensitive bud.

Her hips rolled in response to his touch, and with every movement her skin brushed against his length, making it harder to hold back his moans.

“Don’t go quiet on me now. You always make such beautiful sounds,” she purred.

His face flushed as he looked at her, her fingers brushing through his locks. “Don’t tell me you didn’t know. I think the whole complex has heard you,” she giggled.

He opened her thighs, and without warning, placed the vibrator directly on her clit. She let out a high-pitched cry.

“I’m pretty sure all they hear is you,” he teased back. Her voice was a mixture of laughter and moans and he kissed her passionately, desperate to hold onto that sound, to keep it locked within him forever.

She loosely wrapped her legs around his waist, her hand brushing against his to keep the toy in place. He leaned onto his elbows, hovering above her, moaning when his length slipped between her folds. He moved steadily, each thrust coating him in her wetness. Every time he thrust up, his tip brushed against the vibrator, sending shudders through his body. She upped the intensity, and their moans became synchronized, echoing in the air.

Their breathing grew heavier, only interrupted by soft kisses. Spencer felt her tense beneath him, her legs trembling against his back.

“You can let go for me. Show me how good you make yourself feel,” he encouraged, his voice low and warm against her lips.

“It’s you who’s making me feel this good, Spencer,” she whispered, and he could feel the butterflies flutter in his chest.

He held her close as she reached her peak, her soft cries muffled by her face buried in the crook of his neck. Spencer was pressed against the vibrator, the sensation overwhelming him.

She placed the toy beside her, her hand finding his hardness and guiding him inside of her. Spencer let out a needy whine as he was enveloped by her warmth. She pulsed around him, and he knew he wouldn’t last much longer. She pulled him into a sloppy kiss, and he desperately moved his hips, driven by the overwhelming pleasure, until he spilled inside of her.

They stayed like that for a moment, their foreheads pressed together as they caught their breath. Spencer eventually rolled off her, their legs remaining intertwined.

He turned his head to look at her, and she was already watching him with a sweet smile.

“That was nice,” he mused softly.

“Yeah, it was,” she replied, her voice just as soft.

They spent the rest of the night, and the entirety of the next morning tangled up in each other, until it was time for Spencer to leave for work.

She watched him with adoration as he pulled his pants on, her eyes tracing his movements. As he reached into his pocket, his hand brushed against the familiar lace, and he froze. His cheeks flushed as he pulled out the bundle of fabric—her red laced panties.

“I- uh…” he stammered, holding them out to her. “Here.”

She chuckled. “You can keep them. Consider it a welcome gift. You know, since the cookies didn’t exactly work out.”

“That’s okay. It’s yours,” he replied, holding them out to her once more.

Her smirk deepened. “I didn’t do that little magic trick just for you to give them back,” she teased.

His eyes widened in surprise. “Wait—you put them in my laundry?”

She shrugged, a playful glint in her eye. “You’re not the only magician here, Spencer.”

Spencer laughed, coming to a halt at the door. He glanced over his shoulder. “Same time tomorrow?” he asked with a grin.

She chuckled softly, nodding. “I think I could get used to that.”

[unabletonotlovesatoru]

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ teddy’s notes: so basically i know next to nothing about photoshoots and stuff and this is just something i imagined and tried to convey in words. also im using my lil hc that bakugou has piercing holes in his ears, occasionally wears some small hoops or just dots just so they dont close. enjoy!

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ contains: sexual tension? i guess?? masturbation, bakugou discovering his praise kink through reader. gender neutral reader. i think that’s all. not proofread!! im too tired sorry babes

part two!

just a thought on timeskip! bakugou where he begrudgingly agrees to do one photoshoot for some jewellery brand he doesn’t care about. since beat jeanist kind of forced him to do this and threatened to make him the face of his new clothing line, katsuki thought “fuck it”. and he is very well used to people looking at him in awe, as smug as that sounds, and he expects a huge set with dozens of people running around and whispering between each other, like he’s seen happen when he was visiting kirishima on his shooting.

he’s seen the obnoxiousness of the photographers, the over the top extravagancy of the designers and panicked makeup artists and other workers, and he despises the atmosphere that settles in studios, so of course he doesn’t wanna fucking do a shoot. but best jeanist assures him that the photographer/designer/whatever the fuck is a friend of his and a professional, and this shoot will be very different from any of the things he’s seen.

and it is different indeed.

the studio he goes to is a penthouse on top of a building; and as soon as he steps in he is met with a big ass room and windows that circle the said room, opening up an immaculate view from ceiling to the floor. and he counts only 3 people roaming in and out of the doors that lead to other rooms, which is a fucking surprise. him and his manager exchange a suspicious look before you finally emerge from one of the rooms, so busy setting your camera that only a timid call of your name from his manager is able to bring you back to the world.

a warm smile appears on your face as you extend a hand to his manager, which he shakes a little too excitedly for bakugou’s liking, enamoured smile stretching on his lips as he introduces himself. after slapping the back of his head, katsuki also shakes your hand and grumbles about getting this over with as he strides forward to the makeup artist.

he observes everything while his face is being touched with different brushes and powdered to the point of him sneezing it all off; one guy works on the lighting around the centre of the room where the shoot is going to be filmed, one girl runs around with a rack of clothes, gathering the stuff he will be wearing— mainly the jewellery he will be wearing since this shoot is supposed to be focused on that. and you occasionally chat with his very obviously crushing manager and continue to lead your small team, managing to build something out of nothing, and bakugou finds the atmosphere uncomfortably intimate.

there is no constant muttering around, a background noise he’s used to hearing even outside of the studios and all that; there is no arguing and no stress and no drama, which katsuki finds to be very weird, but somehow pleasant. a soft tune plays in the background after he gruffly declined an offer to put his own music if he wanted because no, music is indeed personal, and while you hum under your breath, oblivious to his staring, bakugou finds himself allured.

soon he is seated on the lonely looking stool: for the first round he’s got a couple of earrings in his ears, all rich looking gold and not as simple as he thought they would be, all carefully chosen by you. you stand extremely close to him, your hands coming up and down as you imagine how every piece would look on him and choose the best ones, the ones that fit only him, and at some point katsuki notices that he waits for your approving, pleased expression to appear with baited breath.

you don’t press him about posing a certain way, more focused on directing the lighting’s guy, most of your face hidden behind your camera as you angle it to capture the radiance of the stones and the way they compliment his skin tone. you gently order for some of the curtains to be opened and closed while you change sides and katsuki’s sure that he is doing literally nothing, just looking the way he thinks he looks good and relaxing when you smile down at the pictures on the small screen of your camera.

he is very much infatuated at this point, though. with how your soft voice guides everyone, guides him to sit a certain way, place his hands a certain way, asks him if you can touch him before you hang your camera on your neck and your soft fingers hover over his skin, scared to touch as if he’s made of porcelain yet gentle in the way they tilt his head to the side, effectively showing off his neck and the gold necklace that rests over his exposed collarbones.

“you’re a natural,” you mumble under your breath appreciatively, nimble fingers styling his hair, as you nearly stand between his spread legs. “nearly every shot is perfect.”

katsuki fucking prays that his chest isn’t turning red because the red will then crawl higher and reach his face too, and looking like a blushing schoolgirl in front of you wasn’t an option, not at all. he is used to being praised, unresponsive to it because frankly he couldn’t give a flying fuck about what people thought of him, however you’re so close and so soft and so sweet with that silky voice of yours and your charming smile.

you touch his cheek, wiping something off with an attentive gaze and pursed lips, and inquire if he wants to take a break or anything, but katsuki refuses. he honestly doesn’t even know if he wants this to be over, yet he knows that he will have to find your number one way or another, no explanation needed. everyone leaves to eat or whatever and he is finally left alone with you, waiting for you to come back from the makeup stand.

“bakugou-san?” you ask him and he snaps his head up, noticing a black pencil in your hand. eyeliner, he recognizes. “mind if i put some on?”

he nods and your free hand cups the side of his face, tilting it to your pleasing, moving him around any way you want because he lets you. while you apply and smear the liner over his lash line and lids, thumbs moving softly over the skin, katsuki is wondering: is he that touchstarved that fleeting touches, professionally required even, from a stranger he met a couple of hours ago make him want something he doesn’t even know he needed before? it’s fucking pathetic, awfully stupid of him, but when your thumb slides down to rub the corner of his bottom lip bakugou is pretty sure you aren’t just giving him some extra attention.

he isn’t a baby who needs someone to do things for him, you could’ve asked him or the makeup artist to do this stuff, yet you figured out that he isn’t opposed to your close proximity and stepped in, thighs brushing against each other and minty breaths mingling with his.

katsuki’s losing his mind by the end of the shooting, hoping that the loose pants that he is adorning are able to conceal the half hard dick he’s been trying to get down for the last half an hour.

and when he is finally home, alone, he shoves his hand deep in his pants, fist getting a hold of his fully hard, raging boner, a relieved groan escaping his throat as he strokes it up and down, thinking about the way you smelled so pleasantly and smiled at him like he was a gem, a precious stone you found, just like the real ones in the expensive accessories he’s worn today. dozens of cameras flashing in his face from different angles couldn’t compare to the attentiveness of your gaze that never left him during the photoshoot.

and while he is getting closer and closer to release katsuki thinks of the praises you muttered under your breath, how you appreciated him, told him how good he did for you and how pretty he was.

“doing so good f’me,” you whispered, looking at him through the camera while he slowly threw his head back to show off a necklace, careful to not stumble off the small stool, and he acted like the mesmerised tone of your voice didn’t make his dick harder. “wonderful, angel.”

fuck, when was the last time someone’s words had such impact on him? feels like a thousand fucking years, but katsuki’s too fucked out to think about that, gasping as he convulsed through his orgasm, his hand unable to slow down as spurts of milky liquid covered it.

“good boy.” rings in his head and his phone vibrates along with it.

a message from his manager containing your number.

[seasprincess]

JJ fic. I'm thinking sweet smut. Like almost goofy because that's just who he is, rarely super serious. And he and reader just know each other so well that things can be goofy, even during sex and neither of them care. Unprotected (if you're good with that). Then maybe reader finds out she's pregnant. Worried to tell JJ. But he's so thrilled.

bf!jj

a/n: I loveeed this ask

warnings: smut, pregnancy, unprotected s3x (wrap it pookies), brain rot.

“Have you got a condom?” As soon as the words leave your mouth the blonde, that’s on top of you, head pops up. He looks at you slightly confused. His hands stoping the rubbing against your lacy panties.

“I thought you were bringing them?” JJ says, his blue eyes looking into yours as he suddenly remembers.

He was supposed to bring them.

“Fuck sake.” He sighs as he runs his head, this isn’t the first time he’s had to run out and buy them during this intimate moments. He just a forgetful guy.

“Fuck it.” You say, not even thinking about it twice. You need this. He’s been touching you for too long. “You’ve been edging me f-“

“Edging.” He cuts off with a little snort and a smile. He’s so unserious it’s insane.

“Stop.”

“Sorry.”

You look up at him and lean up, pressing your soft lips against his. Slowly his slips his tongue into your mouth as his hands continue to touch, rub and caress you. He’s being soft today.

But the way he’s fiddling with the zipper of his jeans is not soft nor slow. Of course it gets stuck, and he’s just there trying to rip it open. Trying to unjam it with some huffs and puffs.

While he’s doing that you’re pulling down your panties, the fold air against your core making you flinch a bit. Before you lay back down and he lays back on top of you.

“Are you sure?” He asks as he looks at you. This isn’t the first time you’ve done it without protection but every time he checks. Make sure you’re certain.

“Yes.” You say with a nod of your head. You just can’t wait any longer.

Slowly JJ enters your cunt, your tight walls sucking him in as you let at a moan. JJ jokes about his size to everyone. Saying how big he is. But they weren’t jokes.

“Fuck mama. So tight.” He says before placing a kiss on your neck. His thrusts picking up. His hand coming to your neck, not to choke you. But to make it easier to pick up his speed. “Such a good girl.”

Your walls clench around him as your eyes screw shut. Whimpers filling the space of your bedroom.

“Please don’t stop.” You breathe out as you instinctively grab onto the duvet, knuckles turning white as you look at him. His stupid face smirking down at you before reattaching to your neck.

His face practically lives there now. Hes always kissing and sucking on your neck.

JJ’s free hand slips between your legs and starts rubbing. Rubbing that sensitive bud of yours. His cock twitching inside your pussy.

It doesn’t take long for both you and JJ to cum. His thrust slowing down as he looks at you.

Both of you panting before the blonde just has to open his stupid mouth.

“That was so skibidi.”

“Oh my god.”

You can’t believe it.

‘This can’t be real.’ You think to yourself as you look at those two lines. The two lines that can either be a blessing or a curse.

You don’t know how long you’ve been sat on the bath mat of your bathroom. I mean you can’t have a baby. Can you? You’re only eighteen living at your parents house dating a guy who only recently learnt the difference between there, their and they’re.

You can’t be parents.

You just can’t.

“Baby I’m here to hang.” The sound interrupts your thoughts. the very guy you were just thinking about. Knocking a tune on your bathroom door.

You sniff and dry your eyes, trying to get rid of any sign that you were crying.

But JJ heard everything.

“Hey, yn? You okay?” His concern is evident in his tone. He cares about you more than you’d ever know.

The bathroom door slowly opens and your eyes meet the blondes. Slowly making his way to you, crouching down and placing his hands on your knees. You’re silent. You can’t speak. Don’t know what to say if you were to open your mouth.

So you just hold the test.

JJ’s eyes follow your gaze to the test. His breath catching in the back of his throat.

You want to know how he feels, is he angry? Upset? Disappointed?

Actually he’s none of them.

“I’m going to be a dad?” He says excitedly. Immediately you look at him. Shocked by this response. He’s happy?

“Yeah.” You say quietly.

“I’m going to be a dad!” He says louder and takes off his hat before standing up. Pacing the bathroom and smiling. Yapping about all the things he’s going to do. How excited he is to have a child.

You should’ve never been worried. You’re going to be parents.

[myshunosun]

The Sims™ 4 Cozy Kitsch Kit is out NOW!

#EAPartner I'm thrilled to announce that The Sims™ 4 Cozy Kitsch Kit, which I created in collaboration with The Sims team, is now available on all supported platforms!

The Kit includes 27 brand new buy mode items that embrace vibrant colors and mid-century modern design. Show off trinkets on a chic faux fireplace, tune your vintage radio to your beloved station, and cozy up on your favorite corduroy sofa. Decorate your room with bold artwork and a daring neon sign. Combine sleek mid-century surfaces with unique heirloom finds.

Visit ea.com or your go-to platform to get The Sims™ 4 Cozy Kitsch Kit!

You can optionally use my creator code MYSHUNOSUN at check out when buying the Kit. When you use the code, I receive a portion (5%) of your total cart value as commission.

Make sure to check out Trillyke’s Sweet Slumber Party Kit, which is also available on all supported platforms. Trillyke also has a creator code: TRILLYKE.

Thanks everyone for your continuous support, and I hope you enjoy Cozy Kitsch. It still feels surreal, but this little piece of me is now yours.

[reiding-writing]

Cold!reader who defends Spencer when’s someone’s making fun of his autistic traits, and the teams like “what?????”

STAGNANT — SPENCER REID!

why would someone ask spencer a question if they didn’t want to hear the answer?

spencer reid x cold!reader | 1.2k | fluff? | cold!reader masterlist.

main masterlist.

a/n — the cold!reader roster i have atm has me kicking my feet and twirling my hair, stay tuned

You step into the cramped precinct in a town that barely makes the map, the smell of stale coffee and old paper immediately hitting you.

The air hums with tension—murder cases tend to have that effect on a room. Your team disperses, each member diving into their respective tasks like clockwork.

You stay near Spencer, keeping an eye on the board he’s already scouring, his sharp mind undoubtedly miles ahead of everyone else’s.

It doesn’t take long for the local officers to start asking questions. You’ve seen it before: their curiosity morphing into disbelief as they’re confronted with Spencer Reid in full form.

This particular case involves a peculiar type of soil found on the victim’s shoes, and when one officer, a grizzled man named Officer Moore, offhandedly asks about its significance, Spencer lights up.

“It’s fascinating, actually,” he begins, his voice picking up with enthusiasm. “The soil contains traces of montmorillonite clay, which is common in areas with volcanic ash deposits. This specific type is unique to the western side of the county, and based on the composition—” He gestures to the samples bagged on the table, oblivious to the officer’s quickly fading interest.

Spencer continues, lost in his explanation, his words flowing like water over smooth stones. You watch the officer shift uncomfortably, his expression hardening into impatience. The moment Spencer pauses to breathe, Moore cuts in, looking at you with a smirk.

“Is he like this all the time? Never shuts up, huh?”

You freeze. The room, bustling moments ago, seems quieter now. Your team is too far off to hear, but you’re right here. Close enough to feel the sting of the comment.

Spencer doesn’t notice. Or maybe he pretends not to. Either way, it doesn’t sit right with you. The dismissive tone, the condescension dripping from the officer’s words—it sparks a heat under your skin that you don’t bother to hide.

“Are you stupid?” Your voice is sharp, like a knife scraping metal. Moore’s smug expression falters.

“Excuse me-?”

“You heard me,” you continue, stepping closer, your gaze fixed on him. “If you can’t keep up with what Dr. Reid is saying, that’s your problem. He’s giving you answers—solutions—that you clearly wouldn’t find on your own. So maybe try listening instead of running your mouth.”

Moore blinks, taken aback. His hand hovers near the cup of coffee on the table, forgotten. “I didn’t mean—”

“Yeah, you did.” you interrupt, crossing your arms. “And for the record, if he’s too much for you to handle, then stay out of his way, you’ll murk his IQ into single digits.”

The room is quiet now, the subtle hum of computers and distant voices the only sound. Spencer finally looks up, his expression unreadable. There’s a hint of surprise in his eyes, but mostly he just seems... confused.

Moore mutters something under his breath and stalks off, clearly not willing to press the issue further. Good. You watch him go, your blood still simmering.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Spencer says softly, his voice carrying a note of uncertainty.

“Yes, I did,” you reply without hesitation. “He was being a jerk.”

Spencer tilts his head, studying you. “People say things like that all the time.”

“Well, they shouldn’t,” you counter, your tone firm. “And if you wont put your foot down about it then I will.”

For a moment, he just stares at you, as if trying to decipher some hidden code in your words. Then, unexpectedly, he smiles—small and fleeting, but genuine. It feels like a victory, however minor.

—

Later, when the team regroups, the tension in the precinct has eased, though you can still feel a few lingering stares from the local officers.

Hotch gives you all the rundown of the next steps, his voice steady and commanding as always. You nod along, but your focus drifts to Spencer, who’s scribbling something in his notebook, seemingly unbothered by the earlier incident.

As the team breaks off to get to work, Emily sidles up beside you, her dark eyes alight with curiosity. “So,” she begins, drawing out the word. “What was that about?”

“What was what about?” you reply, feigning ignorance.

“That little showdown with Officer Grumpy Pants earlier,” she says, smirking. “Word has it you tore him a new one,”

You shrug. “He was being disrespectful.”

Emily raises an eyebrow. “To Reid?”

“To all of us, honestly,” you say. “But yeah, mostly Reid. He didn’t deserve that.”

Emily studies you for a moment, her smirk softening into something more thoughtful. “Awe how sweet,”

“Don’t start,” you warn, but there’s no real bite to your words. Emily laughs, raising her hands in mock surrender.

“Hey, no judgment,” she says. “It’s just... very human of you.”

“I’m not a robot.”

She gestures vaguely toward you. “Oh hush you know what I mean,”

You roll your eyes but don’t bother arguing. Instead, you glance across the room at Spencer, who’s now deep in conversation with JJ and Rossi. The earlier exchange seems to have rolled off him, as if it never happened.

But you know better. You’ve seen the way comments like that stick, the way they fester in that moment f hesitation before he speaks. You’re not sure why it matters so much to you—why he matters so much—but you don’t dwell on it.

—

The case drags on into the evening, the pieces of the puzzle slowly falling into place. By the time the unsub is in custody and the team is preparing to head back to the jet, exhaustion hangs heavy in the air.

As you gather your things, Morgan claps a hand on your shoulder. “Hey, Ice Queen,” he says, his tone teasing. “You did good.”

“Thank you? I was doing my job.” you reply, shooting him a bemused look.

He chuckles. “Not with the case, sweetness. Word is you went full gladiator on one of the locals earlier.”

“Word travels way too fast in this team,” you mutter.

Morgan grins. “What can I say? We’re a nosy bunch. But it’s nice to know you haven’t lost your bite now you’re saddled up to boy wonder.”

He gestures with his head towards where Spencer was sleeping on the jet’s couch, wrapped in a cheap blanket like baby.

You fight back the urge to smile.

“I never changed,” you say dryly.

Morgan laughs, but there’s a glimmer of respect in his eyes. “Sure you did,”

“No I didn’t,”

He nudges your shoulder, a whisper of “You’ll admit it one day,” before he walks off.