#I don’t know. I didn’t realize I was trying that hard I just thought that’s how hard I was supposed to try
Note
okay I added a bit more
reader takes her best friends brother (Yoongi) with her to the store to help her choose some lingerie. She tries a lot of it and she changes in front of him, not caring if he sees her naked. she asks him questions like oh can you see my nipples in this? can you touch my nipples to make them hard to see if the fabrics is thick enough? does my ass looks great? and then she tries one of this panties that have like a hole in the pussy part, and she asks him oh do you think it's like easy access? could you try? so he takes his cock out of his trousers and fucks her against the changing room mirror
“Can you see my nipples in this?” You asked your brother’s best friend, pointing at the bra you wore.
“Hmm, no, I don’t think so.” Yoongi murmured as he got up from the seat and walked over to you.
“Can you make them hard? Just want to be sure.” You pouted.
Without wasting a second, his fingers reached out for the fabric, teasingly pulling it down, just enough for him to catch your nipples with his fingers and roll them.
A shiver ran through your spine at his cold fingers touching your skin, and you bit down on your lip.
When they hardened, he pulled away.
You smiled, satisfied with his help.
He stepped back and you turned around to the mirror, adjusting your bra.
“Hm, you’re right, it seems thick enough.” You hummed, getting dressed into another set. “And this? Does my ass look nice in this?”
“Your ass looks nice in anything you wear, sweetheart. You know that already, right? You have a great body, and you look sexy as fuck in anything you put on, so stop asking me, you already know the answer, y/n.” Yoongi retorted, rolling his eyes, but a hint of a smirk was plastered across his face.
“Fine.” You giggled, liking his compliments. “But…” You paused. “I need your help with something, do you think this hole has easy access for cock? Can you test it for me, Yoongi?”
Yoongi was surprised at your direct question, but he stood up, walking over to you, pushing you back into the dressing room, and closing the curtains behind him. His hand shot to your face, digging his fingers into your cheeks as he pulled you closer to him and caught you into a kiss.
His lips pressed roughly against yours, his tongue licking across your bottom lip, and his teeth gently biting into it. You moaned into the kiss, feeling his hands roam your body and his hard cock pressing against your thigh.
Yoongi broke the kiss, spinning you around and bending you forward, he pulled down his trousers and lined his cock with the hole in the panties before sliding it into you.
Your mouth fell open at the sensation, a loud moan falling from your lips.
“So wet already, didn’t even do anything yet, I didn't know you liked being watched by me so much. You like showing yourself off to me, is that it?” Yoongi asked, slowly starting to pump into you, his hands tightly holding your hips, nails digging into your skin.
“Yes…” You admitted, resting your hands on your knees, glancing up to see how you were getting fucked by yoongi in the mirror, your eyes meeting as he picked up the pace, fucking into you, making you gasp and moan every time he thrust his hips into yours.
His hand slid around your throat, pulling you backwards until your back was pressed against his chest, he kissed along your jawline, then down to your neck.
“Such a good pussy, you look so pretty when you get fucked.” Yoongi whispered into your ear.
Your legs felt wobbly and you leaned against the changing room mirror, your face and chest pressed against it as Yoongi didn’t slow down, and his thrusts grew harder and faster.
"Cock’s so big…” You whimpered, watching yourself through the mirror as your body rocked back and forth with every thrust, and as your eyes focused on your face, you realized that your expression looked incredibly aroused.
The thought that anyone could open the curtain and see you in this situation, made your pussy clench around him.
"Close..." You whined, nearly reaching your orgasm.
“Already? Cock was that good?” Yoongi laughed.
You nodded, too embarrassed to admit that he was right.
"Good girl, I'm close too." Yoongi scooted back and sat down on the bench, bringing you onto his lap, and spreading your legs wide, his hips snapping up to thrust into you.
“O-oh!” You gasped, the sight in the mirror being so hot; your pussy on full display as his thick cock stuffed it full, his fingers were digging into your thighs, spreading you wide open, and the way he fucked you with such force was so incredibly hot.
“Bounce on that cock.” Yoongi stopped thrusting into you, letting you take over and ride him.
Eagerly, you started to bounce on his cock, going so fast you were nearly jumping up and down his cock.
Yoongi’s eyes were fixed on the mirror, his gaze meeting yours as you fucked yourself on him.
He brought a hand between your legs, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing it with quick, harsh circles.
"Y-yoongi..." You cried, the feeling of his fingers and cock was just too much. Your mouth was agape, eyes closed, as you came on his cock, your body shaking as you did.
Yoongi pushed you down on his cock, pumping his cum deep inside of you. When he spilled every drop of his seed in you, he pulled you off his cock.
“I guess I need to buy it now..” You whispered with a slight chuckle.
#bts smut#bts x reader#bts requests#bts smut requests#bts fanfic#bts smut fanfic#yoongi smut#yoongi x female reader#yoongi x yn#yoongi x you#bts x female reader
236 notes
·
View notes
Note
literally anything for Kate Martin
Kiss and Makeup — Kate Martin x Fem!Reader
In which you and Kate have a heated argument, and you feel conflicted between your morals and feelings.
Warnings: angst (I made Kate into a little bit of a bitch I’m upset with myself for it negl) and fluff!
Author’s note: kudos to @fallofachilles for the prompt idea! + I hope you guys like the new layout I’m trying, despite the simplicity. Consider this a birthday gift from me to you guys, but for my birthday ♡!
You sit on the floor of the off-campus apartment that you share with Kate, pulling everything that Kate had just put into her suitcase out. She quite literally shoved everything in there and there was just no way that she would fit everything she needed in there. You were unsure about how she did this before meeting you.
“Babe,” you huffed. “I keep telling to you to stop waiting until the last moment to pack! You wouldn’t have to rush if you listened.”
“Okay Mom, sorry,” Kate brushed the fly aways out of her face and sat next to you.
You rolled up each item so that you could get the most out of the space in her suitcase.
“Do you have your extra pair of shoes in another bag or something?” You inquired. You’d gone through everything and they hadn’t turned up.
“No baby, they’re in our room,” Kate replied to you, but never got up.
“Go get them!” You widened your eyes, motioning to the bedroom. “Sheesh.”
Kate came back with them in hand, “I thought you were going to get them.”
You swore when you heard that your eye twitched. “Uh— why would I do that? You’re able.”
“Well… you just usually do. It’s a ‘girlfriend’ thing to do,” Kate explained, shrugging.
You chuckled, warmth spreading up the back of your neck and to your face. “So as your girlfriend I’m supposed to baby you and wait on you hand and foot?”
The room becomes tense and your heart beats in your ears. You remain patient though, trying to hear your girlfriend out.
“Well no, but I didn’t ask for you to do any of this,” Kate motions to her clothes on the floor. “It’s our normal routine. What’s the problem?”
You groan, running your hands down your face. “I do it because I want to and because I love you! I don’t have to do any of it— I could literally let you go to the airport and pay a fifty dollar fee because your luggage is overweight, but I don’t!”
Kate shoved her tongue into her cheek and crossed her arms over her chest defensively. “I don’t understand what I said wrong! Why disrupt our routine?”
“You sound like such a man,” you curse. “The problem is that I’m realizing that you don’t respect me or even value me! I know that you work so hard, so I do these things to take some of the weight off off your shoulders, and you’re not even the tiniest bit grateful!”
Kate drops her bright pink shoes onto the hardwood floors, the sound echoing through the apartment. Her eyes glance at them and then you. A staring contest goes on for thirty seconds and you chuckle bitterly before rising to your feet.
You strut toward the bedroom, grabbing your backpack.
“What are you doing?” Kate questions you, following you into the room. But, you ignore her as you raid the dresser for clothes.
You shove your clothes into the bag, not giving nearly as much care to your items as you give to Kate’s. Your toiletries lay on top. You swing the bag over your right shoulder, saving your left hand for your keychain.
“Where are you going!?” Kate continues. “You cannot be ignoring me right now. You- come on!”
“Clearly, you’ve gotten too comfortable and you seem to think that I’m your maid or something. I’m leaving and you can have fun spending a week without me.”
-
You found yourself staying with your friend Karissa for a few days. You almost went to Jada’s dorm, but there was no way that you wouldn’t end up seeing Kate there.
While you stayed with Karissa, you had some time to think. Were you babying Kate? You just thought that she might appreciate what you do for her, but she made it obvious that now it had become more of an expectation of you.
You felt conflicted. You always told yourself that you wouldn’t tolerate disrespect from anyone, including your partner. If you forgave Kate, would you basically be telling her it’s okay, I don’t mind that you disrespected me?
But at the same time, you love Kate and it hurts you to be away from her.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Karissa asked as she joined you on her plush white couch.
“Thinking about Kate,” you say.
“But, that’s literally all the time so what difference does it make?” She jokes, channel surfing.
“The difference is that I haven’t spoken to her in three days because my pride won’t let me,” you sigh. “I don’t want to give in too easy.”
“You don’t have to,” Karissa chimes. “Okay, listen. Forget about whatever lesson you’re trying to teach her, and instead just think about what you want.
Maybe it’s not about you wanting her realizing that she needs you, but it could be more about the fact that she hasn’t shown you much appreciation.”
You nod, “but, I know that she’s busy. It’s hard for her to do that stuff all of the time.”
“You’re making excuses for her now. Sure she’s busy, but aren’t you, too? You balance your classes, a job, and extracurriculars, but you still find time to show Kate how much you love her and do things that she would like, including packing her bags for her before an away game.
It doesn’t have to be elaborate it, but you do deserve to be considered. That’s all I’m saying.”
You don’t reply, but your phone vibrates at your side with a text from the girl you were just speaking of.
KATE: Will you come home, please? We should talk.
You read over the message a few times, thinking about how you might reply. Truth be told, you were tired of being apart and you did just want to go home to your girlfriend.
YOU: I’ll be there in about an hour.
You kept your text short and sweet. It definitely wouldn’t take you an hour to get there, but you wanted to give yourself some leeway.
-
With your key in hand you unlock the door to the apartment you share with Kate, and sit your bag down on the floor.
It’s eerily quiet, to which you raise your eyebrows. You stalk toward your bedroom, and are met with the sight of those faux tea candles, roses, and what seemed to be a few gifts on the bed.
The room had been decorated with balloons and a big banner that read: I LOVE YOU.
You turned to look for Kate and there she stood in the doorway, a small smile on her face, but you couldn’t move past the look of guilt in her eyes.
“What’s all this for?” You inquire, taking a deep breath.
Kate’s gaze flickers around the room in hesitation, almost like she’s doubtful of something.
“I don’t want you to think that I’m trying to butter you up so that you forgive me, but it’s time that I showed my appreciation for you.
You’re right, I did get too comfortable and I stopped thanking you. The way that I spoke to you was wrong. I love you, and what I did and lack thereof was wrong. The three days without you admittedly were hard, I forgot to do a lot of the things that you took on the responsibility of.
I’m just… sorry for not appreciating and recognizing what you do for me sooner, babe. You take so much of the weight off of my shoulders every single day, and I promise to put forth more effort when it comes to valuing you.”
Your heart nearly leapt out of your chest at her words because that’s all that you really wanted. You wanted to know that your efforts didn’t go unnoticed and that they meant something to her.
Without words you bring Kate into a hug, your arms wrapping around her neck and hers around your waist. You speak into her neck, “I won’t say that it’s okay, but I do accept your apology.”
When you both pull away she locks her lips with your own, her hands squeezing at your hips. Her lips taste like mint from the chapstick she wore. The kiss was tender and sweet— it felt different from the last ones you two had shared. There was a promise in it, one that the both of you wouldn’t break.
Your foreheads rest upon one another until Kate backs you into the bed, forcing you to sit down. She joins you at your side.
She glances at the two gift boxes, signaling for you to open them. The wrapping paper was your favorite color. The small details were always so cute to you.
You unwrap box one and open it to find some body care products like body wash and body scrub. Kate always knew how much you enjoyed self-care days. It always made you feel good inside and out.
You opened the body scrub and brought the container to your nose, “oo that’s nice!”
Kate watches as you open the other box with a smile, happy that she could make you smile again.
“Should I run you a bath?” She asks. “We can have ice cream after and watch Love Is Blind.”
“Run us a bath,” you beam. “And don’t be mad, but I watched a few episodes without you.”
Kate got up from the bed, “wouldn’t be the first time, babe.”
#meech la major#meech’s thoughts#iowawcbb#iowa wbb#kate martin x reader#kate martin my beloved#kate martin
162 notes
·
View notes
Text
Shuro’s status of nobility has been brought up a few times when discussing his fight with Laios. I’m sure there’s credibility to the argument but the way it’s been used makes me go, “huh??”
I’ve seen his upbringing used in a negative context, usually to flatten his reasons for fighting with Laios. “oh he’s used to people listening to him so he’s never met anyone who doesn’t do exactly what he says” or “he’s never been exposed to anyone new or any new perspectives and that’s why he hated Laios”. I don’t think these opinions are salient in fan spaces but I saw it enough times I wanted to talk about it.
I feel like we just, forgot that Toshiro is a foreigner? The only poc in the party? And never interacted with gnomes, dwarves, and halffoots since they don’t live in the east? (well, the last point depends on how much you’ve seen from the Adventurer’s Bible)
Compared to everyone else, he probably had the MOST exposure to new people and experiences. And yet he was able to, best he can, quickly assimilate and harmonize with everyone in his new party. Regardless of what he thought about them, it seemed everyone else thought he was amicable. As a poc (and East Asian specifically), that’s mission accomplished.
With all that effort into making himself culturally digestible, it’s no wonder he resented/envied Laios. He put in all this effort to learn their status quo, to not offend the new people he’s meeting, only for Laios to not give him the same consideration. Both of them were socially inept in some way, but only one of them felt the need to do something about it. It’s important to note that their fight was a turning point for Laios too - he realize he had to be more aware and present for his team.
So Toshiro didn’t want to say no outright because it might set back the bonds he’s trying to form. Confrontation is hard, confrontation in a new country is harder. He settles for “close enough” because hey, it’s not that big of a deal. Their opinion of me is way more important than obtaining respect for myself. I’m the foreigner. This has the consequence of making him a pushover, but I digress. He seems to identify himself more as a foreigner than nobility.
And that had to do with separating his identity! The identify he has at his house was kept VERY separate from the one he has with Laios and co. He doesn’t want Laios’ party to know that he is nobility. He doesn’t even care that they call him by “first name”, albeit butchered. He never mentioned the retainers to them (since Chilchuck had to ask who they were).
The retainers are people he’d rather keep at a distance due to their connection with his dad. This might be why he joined Laios’ party solo given the opportunity. But as we see in the image below, they followed him into the dungeon ANYWAYS. You can’t convince me he wanted them to do that. They watch from a distance, disregarding Toshiro’s independence. They don’t always listen to him, they do what they think is best for him, which means they actually follow MAIZURU. To her, his status as their young master is very important, and therefore he needs to be waited on hand and foot. It’s not that he’s used to people doing stuff for him, it’s moreso Maizuru does it regardless.
What drives both identities is an inability to assert himself. He don’t think highly of himself (living under his father’s shadow) and it shows in how people treat him. With Laios and others, he had the opportunity to shape a new identity, but because Laios was the one that introduced him, he and everyone else just accepted the misconceptions. I’m sure Toshiro noted his surprisingly strong influence on his team, something he hasn’t achieved.
With his retainers and Maizuru specifically, she doesn’t put faith in his decisions. She tsked at the fact they went to save Falin, but obeyed anyways because he’s never asserted himself before. (Reminder that assertion is him on his knees requesting their help - the hierarchy of his upbringing does not feel ingrained in him. Giving me overly respectful and considerate vibes, the silly guy)
So he CAN do it! He CAN shape how people see him if he is able to open up a bit more. Rather than his nobility, it’s moreso that he’s never trusted anyone to open up to in the first place. He doesn’t fit in back home. He’s distant from Maizuru, he’s distant from Hien. He’s distant from his brothers and parents. He basically never had friends until Laios. This is his first friend too!!!
He finally opened up to him, and that’s going to pave the way for his character development in the future. He now has someone he can trust, someone to put his faith in, and someone to teach him how to communicate better. By airing his resentment, now all that’s left is that envy/admiration. He’s going to learn from that.
Edit: just because I like keeping things together, here’s more discussion about this post :P
#oh my god I did not expect this to be so LONG#hopefully this is the last of my thoughts for a while#I didn’t even touch on other factors affecting his character!!!#thank goodness everyone else has those covered#there’s some great analyses out there#I love when a character’s overarching story is about friendship#and the struggles with the nuance of interacting with people#dungeon meshi#delicious in dungeon#toshiro nakamoto#shuro dungeon meshi#laios touden#shuro
117 notes
·
View notes
Text
like you would’ve think Yoichi would sympathize with Shigaraki, who is his brother’s victim. Who AFO used horrifically in a brutal and elaborate scheme to try to bring back Yoichi. Literally Tenko’s existence was plotted by AFO to nab OFA so he can get Yoichi back.
It’s not Yoichi’s fault, obviously, but at least you would hope he have some response to it beyond thinking of Shigaraki as a “heinous calamity… the mightiest villain with amor forged from untold malice and hatred.”
And you would think Nana would try to interact with her grandson before she disappeared. That she would directly face Shigaraki and apologize to her last remaining blood relative and the legacy of her actions, after realizing her abandoning Kotarou caused a trauma that was carried on to the next generation; for having given up on him and decided he should be killed for the greater good. To ask him his name and to give some kind words.
But nah, let’s instead have her interact with not even a real ghost of Kotarou, but a non-responsive memory. Let’s have her weep for the already dead and gone, only more or less off-handedly apologize in thought to her living grandson in his traumatic core that they punched their way into.
And you would think Deku would actually care about Shigaraki beyond just The Crying Child. That he would try to talk to him. That he would search for whatever clues he can find about Shigaraki - interrogating captured League members (MR. COMPRESS), asking All Might and Gran about the Shimuras, analyzing his flashbacks to all his encounters with Shigaraki - because he’s working hard to know and understand his opponent, to find out what Shigaraki wants. That he would object to a plan called SKY COFFIN that’s designed to hurt and subdue Shigaraki and intended to serve as his metaphorical grave; that when Gran Torino tells him “killing is a form of salvation,” Deku would actually say something out loud instead of silence.
But he only ever cared about the innocent child he saw crying, as if time isn’t linear and that sad little boy didn’t directly grow into the man in front of him.
For all the talk of ‘saving’ Shigaraki, I just don’t think Deku (and the vestiges that ostensibly support his quest) actually seem to care about Shigaraki - as a victim, as a person - all that much. The result is that we’re mainly focused on how supposedly cool and merciful and brave Deku is for half-heartedly considering the idea after receiving a psychic vision of a sad innocent child, with his ultimate plan being to literally beat Shigaraki’s traumatic backstory out of him.
31 notes
·
View notes
Text
And my other fill for Ravioli ship week, for that most classic trope of "Only One Bed!" Read it here or on Ao3.
△△△
Link wasn’t home much for a while. After his recovery and agreement that Ravio could use his house while he was away, he promptly found himself halfway across the country chasing clues for several weeks straight.
He did make it back home eventually. Shaking off the dungeon dust, he staggered back to rest and resupply, so tired he’d forgotten Ravio would be there and nearly drew his sword at the enthusiastic greeting that waited for him in what he was used to thinking of as an empty house.
In fairness, his abrupt return seemed to startle Ravio as well.
Now he slumped over dinner, already eyeing the corner where his bed had been shoved aside. It looked like there was just enough room to push one of Ravio’s added tables out of the way and crawl in.
…In fact.
Yes.
There were scuff marks on the floor. New ones, as if someone had been doing exactly that for several nights.
Link realized he’d stopped chewing, spoon dangling precariously from limp fingers. At his back, the sounds of Ravio enjoying his own meal fell suspiciously silent.
It occurred to Link. Finally, belatedly. That he perhaps should have thought of this sooner.
He hadn’t seen any of Ravio’s possessions aside from the stuff he sold. Wasn’t honestly sure he even had any. But the bag was obviously magical, so maybe…?
Link cleared his throat. Ravio twitched at the sound, spoon clattering against his bowl.
“Where have you been sleeping?” Link asked in the most neutral tone he could manage.
“Um. Well. You see.”
When Ravio didn’t continue, Link waited. But aside from clearing his own throat in a distinctly nervous manner, Ravio didn’t continue. Link finally turned to look at him. From the way Ravio dropped his spoon entirely, there was some kind of expression on his face.
“You’ve been sleeping in my bed.”
“I’m terribly sorry, Mister Hero!” Ravio immediately returned in a loud but not terribly sincere tone. “I had to leave home so quickly, you see, and I was sleeping on the ground with all those dreadful monsters around before you so graciously lent me your home. It isn’t very comfortable down there. As, ah. As you know. since you’ve probably been sleeping on the ground, too.” He faltered to a stop rather than try to dig himself back out of the hole he’d talked himself into. His hands were wringing together, his posture hunched in a way that made Link think he might be about to throw himself back down on the ground like he had when he was begging for a place to stay. Link couldn’t see the extraordinarily sad puppydog eyes, but he could feel them aimed right at him.
He had spare blankets and a bedroll. The space in front of the fire would be perfectly warm.
But Link wouldn’t get any sleep himself if he made Ravio sleep on the ground while he enjoyed the comfort of a bed mere steps away. If the guilt didn’t keep him up, the sounds of Ravio shifting around certainly would.
He sighed. “Fine.”
Rounded shoulders immediately straightened. Link swore the fake ears on the hood perked straight up. “Really? Oh, thank you, Mister Hero! I promise you won’t even notice I’m there!”
Link doubted that.
△△△
The problem of logistics returned once, after much arguing, they had cleared sufficient space around the bed for them to both now be standing on either side of it. The dying fire cast a dull orange glow through the room, the door locked and the shutters closed for the night. Link was halfway through trying not to think too hard as he stripped down to his nightclothes before he realized Ravio had pulled his boots off and stopped, reaching to fold back his side of the covers with the bunny hood still on.
“Are you going to sleep with that on?” Link didn’t really want those giant embroidered eyes staring at him in the middle of the night.
“I usually don’t,” Ravio said, which wasn’t an answer.
“I don’t care what you look like,” Link tried.
It didn’t seem to help. Ravio faltered, wringing his hands and just standing there awkwardly. He finally cleared his throat. “Could you turn around?”
Eyes narrowed, Link gave him a suspicious visual sweep. “Why?”
“I’m going to take it off.”
“I might roll over in my sleep,” Link warned. He still didn’t have the faintest idea why Ravio didn’t want him to know what he looked like, but obviously he cared quite a bit. It was only fair to warn him.
“I know, friend, I didn’t mean you had to stay facing away all night! I have this!” He pulled something from one voluminous sleeve; after a bit of squinting, Link first thought it a mask, then a blindfold. But it had no eyeholes to be the former and looked too padded and comfortable to be the latter.
“I’m not wearing a blindfold!” he said hotly.
Ravio, Link had noticed, seemed to almost fluff up and out when he worried he’d angered someone against himself. Like a frightened cat with puffed out fur trying to make itself bigger than it was. “It’s not for you, it’s for me! And it’s a sleeping mask, not a blindfold!”
They stared at each other from across the bed. One beat. Two.
Feeling red in the cheeks and more than a little foolish, Link turned around. Rustling sounds behind him; the covers folding back. He heard Ravio sit, then near silence for several long moments, save Ravio hissing a brief curse to himself.
“You can turn around now,” he finally said. When Link did, he found Ravio sitting upright in the bed, hugging the far side, his hood traded for some kind of silk wrap that completely covered his hair and ears and the “sleeping mask.” Between the two, he was still nearly as covered as with the hood alone. Unlike with the hood, it was obvious he could no longer see, the direction of his head aimed somewhere more towards the middle of the room than Link himself.
“Well. Good night, Mister Hero,” Ravio said, sounding as awkward as Link felt.
“Good night,” Link echoed. He watched Ravio lie down and roll onto his side, facing away.
Climbing into his bed with someone else already in it was… odd. Link tried to lay on his back, since that seemed the safest way to not actually touch his bedmate. But he’d never been much of a back sleeper. It didn’t take long for things to start to ache, and no amount of fidgeting was making it any better.
Ravio politely didn’t mention Link’s shifting, but his shoulders drew up under the covers.
This wasn’t going to work. Time for Plan B.
Trying hard to roll over without pulling any of the covers off of his bedmate, Link gave in and flipped to his side.
This presented a new problem. His bed wasn’t terribly large. When he tried to curl up it pressed their backs together; a feeling startling in its intimacy. But more importantly, drawing his feet up meant he encountered Ravio’s own.
“Your toes are cold!” Link yelped.
“So are yours!” Ravio lied.
“They are not!” Link yanked them further up regardless to get his poor innocent calves away from Ravio’s freezing toes, but that just pressed their backs more firmly together. Grumbling, he flipped over again. Onto his stomach now, head turned to the side on his pillow so he could breathe, one arm hugging the pillow and the other curled up against himself; a position Gully had found him in more than once when he was sent to see why Link wasn’t yet awake and working at his apprenticeship. He’d turned his head habitually to the left, and so now faced Ravio, his nose nearly tucked all the way up against the back of his neck. He thought he saw Ravio shiver when he exhaled.
Link liked the way he smelled.
“Is this okay?” He felt the need to check.
“Perfectly fine, Mister Hero!” Ravio returned in a pitch that could accurately be described as a squeak. Link didn’t have the mental energy left to check whether he meant it. The past few weeks had been long, and now that he was finally comfortable they were catching up to him. Incoming slumber weighed down all his limbs.
It felt nice. To fall asleep next to someone. It felt really, really nice.
Not falling asleep on a hard dungeon floor helped, too. Ravio was right. Sleeping on the ground sucked.
Even if he did wake up in the middle of the night to find that Ravio had stolen all the covers. Ravio put them back when he rose before Link did in the morning; Link woke to the warmth of someone else’s lingering body heat in the blankets heaped up over him. It was a feeling he thought he could very quickly get used to.
45 notes
·
View notes
Note
Could you write about confessing your feelings and asking out nagi and gagamaru (separately) only for them to be like “i thought we were already dating??” Thank you!
i thought we were already dating ? nagi, gagamaru
m.list II rules
note : hiii ! sorry i take a while, i was really busy <3 here it is ! it hope you like it
Nagi
Nagi and you were about to go home when you thought it was the best timing. He asked if you wanted to come with him to the arcade after school, so you obviously tagged along - never missing an opportunity to spend time with him. You love it too much, spending time with him even if you're not doing much.
But as you walked out of the arcade, a strange feeling took upon your heart and it was like you'll never be able to feel it again. You needed to take a step further. Or at least try.
You never felt more nervous. Your heart was racing inside your rib cage as you stopped in your tracks. Nagi turned around to look at you, puzzled as to why you would stop when you were whining a while ago about how tired you were.
Playing with your nails a little for you to build up your confidence, pushing away so scary voices in your mind telling that it will ruin everything. You finally look up to him, a small blush all over your cheeks.
"I really like spending time with you, much more than just friends ! Would you go with me ?!" You yelled without realizing it, closing your eyes as shame came along with your speech.
When you open them again, you're met with a rather lost Nagi. His head tilted to the side.
"Aren't we dating already ?" He asked, not even thinking twice when your blush worsened in an instant.
You were too shocked to answer, but if you weren't you would've hit his arm so hard. Yet thinking about it, it just makes sense for him to say that.
Taking a few steps toward him, you still hit his arm before taking it. "You know that we have to talk about it Together before it's settled?"
He hummed in response. Not adding anything but it was enough. You're already used to it.
Gagamaru
Your steps resonated in unison with Gagamaru's as you walked further into the lovely park you just found near your place. You never really had the time to take a walk to clear your head or just enjoy the good weather, but since you got closer to Gagamaru, you happened to spend a lot of time outside. It doesn't matter if it’s just walking in silence or happily talking about your interests. It can be in a zoo, around the town, deep into the countryside where he used to live. You just like it a lot, even more since he’s there.
It was always good to hear him talk about things he likes or how much of a nature lover he is. You’re always lull by his voice, calming your sometimes busy mind.
You lost track of how many times your hand brushed, how your heart skipped a beat every time or how you have to look away when he looks at you for a little too long and your cheeks get hot. You don’t remember the first time you started to long for it, a new “date” with him, but you for sure have a lot of feelings for him now. It was just so hard to talk to him with how oblivious he is.
Yet your hand brushed his once again and this time, the warm feeling didn’t stop as he took your hand in his, stroking your skin with his thumb from time to time. It was too much for your heart and mind. You pulled kindly on his hand, your eyes shyly looking into his. You didn’t let go but there was a step between you too, you could tell he didn’t understand what was up.
“I like you.” You didn’t need to think much. Those worlds flow down your mouth naturally, and you should’ve told it earlier. “Would you go out with me ?”
You felt relieved to finally say it, feeling your heart lighter and expecting a smile. Instead you were met with a frown. “I thought we were already dating !”
You blinked once, then twice before scoffing to yourself.
“When did you ask me out ?” you teased, taking a step closer. “I can’t remember well it seems.”
He felt flustered, you could tell by his avoidant look. Getting a little closer and getting up on your toes, you pecked his cheek. “So ? Will you ?”
No need to say that he was even happier after you asked him, in the end.
i hope you liked it
#blue lock x reader#bllk x reader#blue lock fluff#blue lock hc#bllk fluff#nagi x reader#nagi seishiro x reader#nagi hc#gagamaru x reader#gagamaru gin x reader#gagamaru gin#nagi#nagi seishiro#blue lock#bllk
41 notes
·
View notes
Note
Rodimus giving birth painfully at the worst time possible and with no help whatsoever.
Its in the middle of battle and he’s in too much pain to move, his tank is painfully stiff and swollen and he’s in so much pain but his fluids haven’t even broken yet and there is so much pressure all he can do is vent heavy and huddle under the shelter hoping the wrong bot doesn’t find him.
Best part about it?
He wasn’t even in this battle.
He was on a civi huddle trying to get to safety because he left after finding out he was sparked.
Sires?
Deadlock and Ratchet who don’t even know.
He’s literally got the worst luck because bombs are falling and soldiers are offlining and bullets are flying in the space he’s in and crawling only did so much his tanks are too heavy on his frame and half his spoilers been blown off while the other half is leaking energon hanging by a thread.
This mech is in serious trouble because he feels his sparklings moving and its making everything worse and the siren for clearing the battlefield sounds and he knows he’s really fragged because that means they send out a large bomb and what do they do?
Drop the largest bomb that caves in his shelter and guess who just so happened to fall in protecting each other?
Deadlock and Ratchet who have no idea he’s behind them as they check each other over and talk quietly so relieved they survived as they mention it’ll take at least two days to remove the rubble so they can escape.
And guess whose frame wracks with pain as their sparkling readjusts and kicks them too hard and makes him fail at stifling an agonized scream thats muffled from him biting into his arm?
Deadlock and Ratchet have the most distressed, out of frame mind zapping shock of their life cycles seeing Rodimus like that.
Your thoughts/the rest?
Ooh poor Rodimus (Hot Rod?)... but he was lucky that a bickering Deadlock and Ratchet ended up in the rubble with him. For a moment they’re too busy fighting and pointing out whose fault it was that they ended up here and how long it’s gonna take them to get out thar they don’t notice that there’s someone still alive in the mess. Hot Rod squealing out as his forge clenches alerts them to his presence very quickly…
When they realize it’s Hot Rod, their shared… friend, they rush to him and no matter how hard he tries to hide his pregnant belly from them, his water finally breaking tips them off. I don’t think they realize they’re the sires at first, but when Ratchet scolds him for not coming to him when he got sparked and Hot Rod tells him he didn’t want to hang a sparkling on his shoulders it clicks.
Deadlock is more stunted. Ratchet knows what to do, but Deadlock does not. I think he only jumps to action once Ratchet orders him to help him get Hot Rod out of the rubble and onto a more comfortable surface. Hot Rod was very lucky to have been found by them. Ratchet can patch him up and help coach him through the birth. He can already see that Roddy’s been straining himself, forcing himself to push when he does not need to. Thankfully his water finally broke and it’s gonna be significantly easier from now… Hot Rod clings to Deadlock as Ratchet helps him coax out the sparkling, scolding him for not telling them, for keeping this to himself, for trying to move through an active war-zone when he knew he’s that far along. Because of all the stress and the fighting still going on outside, Hot Rod has a very hard time giving birth, but at least he can scream into Deadlock’s chest this time around <3
if it’s going to take at least a couple days to clear out the rubble they know they’re in hot water. Hot Rod’s sparkling comes out alive but barely holding on and they don’t have enough fuel for the four of them… Everyone has to pitch in to keep the little one fed, which slows down the progress. Hot Rod’s injuries and the fact that he’s only recently birthed a sparkling mean they have to drag him out and help him walk across the empty battlefield… Hopefully, they can reconnect with an autobot squadron soon, and as for Deadlock… he’s going to stay with his sparkling for as long as he can, for now.
30 notes
·
View notes
Text
.
#ok so mini rant session#i am doing a bit better today - little less distraught over getting fired from a job i thought i was doing pretty good at and i was trying#really hard and genuinely enjoying#and just more baffled because truly i had no warning and i was completely blindsided#i was in the middle of a 3 month trial and i would have a review at the end in which i would be offered a permanent position if it went well#and i thought i was making my way towards that! granted i was still making mistakes but genuinely not of such a great scale i thought it#called for my immediate dismissal#that being said i was still VERY MUCH IN TRAINING. i had only been there A MONTH AND A HALF learning COMPLETELY NEW SYSTEMS#and i was told that i had been there a few weeks already and that i wasn’t catching on quick enough. that there were some areas i was#understanding and others i just simply wasn’t#and i asked what areas specifically so that i could learn more and try harder#and they didn’t give me a specific answer.#ok and so. so. i have this insecurity.#that at first impression people will like me. that they may think i’m pretty or kind or funny or whatever#but then they spend time with me or get to know me and realize that that’s all bullshit.#that i’m actually not pretty and im mean and loud and selfish and lazy and rude and etc etc etc#MASSIVE fucking insecurity in that like that’s why i genuinely don’t have friends or a significant other#and that genuinely i’m just a Bad Person#and when i was fired? i was told ‘a persons true colours show after a few weeks’#so that’s MAJORLY fucking me up.#when i was hired i was boasted to about my boss’s hiring process and how she’s ’only been fooled twice’#and the morning before i was fired in a meeting my supervisor told everyone that i was doing quite well.#so yeah i truly had no fucking warning. at fucking all.#hurt and confused and angry and baffled and did i mention hurt#anyways if you’re still here i’m sorry i know this is not a good look for me
9 notes
·
View notes
Text
I hate school so fucking much lol and I always just thought I was taking too many credits but this semester I finally took a normal amount of credits and it doesn’t matter. It’s not the amount of classes, it’s just having any classes at all. I feel like there was definitely a time where I could handle it but not anymore lmfao… this place was crazy. Sent me into my first real and scary panic attack, broke me out in stress hives, ruined my sleep, turned me into a mega hater…. smh. I know it could be a million times worse so I feel bad for complaining but it was not cool. All I can hope for is that my degree and good grades that I damn near died trying to get for literally no reason do me some good in real society tho I doubt it lmao
#like why did I try so hard lmfao…… I don’t need a 4.0 I’m not going to grad school I’d rather kms#I don’t know. I didn’t realize I was trying that hard I just thought that’s how hard I was supposed to try#IDK!!!!#I have never been good at knowing how much effort to put into things my entire life#I give everything 110 percent when it feels like I’m giving it like. Idk. 80 percent#everyone calls me a perfectionist and IM NOT TRYING TO BE LOL I don’t know how to gauge what I can or can’t be dismissive of!!!#it’s hard for me to discuss this problem I have without it sounding like I’m being like ‘omg I’m so smart that I do everything perfect by#accident’#THATS NOT WHAT I MEEEEAAAN#whatever#some people’s mental health issues make their grades tank but I have never had below an A- in my life and if u ask me that is also#indicative of an issue like LOL. if your child is like that then get them help for fucking real#ugh I love my mom and it’s not her fault but when I was a kid I was literally bawling and having stress headaches and canker sores DAILY#after school and being unable to sleep because I was so afraid of going the next day#and she was just like. ‘I was like that too :) it’s normal. you’re just a perfectionist’#ACTUALLY IM SCARED OUT OF MY MIND FOR NO REASON but okay#ok sorry let me just shout out some gratitude tho to the handful of teachers I had who were epic and had swag#I loved them#they didn’t make up for the rest of this bullshit though LOL
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
Vent abt smth that gets on my Nerves
#tried bringing up to mom like. hey how could I bring up coming out to family. and she was like visibly uncomfortable so I was like dw I’m no#gonna like try to ruin Christmas with it or some shit I’m just. nervous u see. and I’m sat there anxiety rambling abt it because oh my god.#and she pulls out the fucking. ‘can’t you just be a person?’ mom I am a person already. the problem is. the PROBLEM IS. EVERYONE THINKS I AM#AND THUS TREATS ME AS A GIRL. like oh my god.#vent#it’s not a huge vent like if it comes up I’m not gonna Lie moms discomfort abt the matter be damned.#but like. ‘can’t you just be a person’ is what she says every fucking time it comes up. like mom. mother. mi madre. do you realize how much#of an insult that feels like when you say it EVERY TIME I bring up trans anxieties. or dysphoria. or any of the ways my transness affects my#life. like being trans doesn’t make me less of a person oh my god. but also frankly I don’t have the patience to be nice about getting into#things and I don’t have the heart to hurt her about it and even if I did have one of those I don’t have the patience to hold her hand#through all this shit. like I gave up having mom on this journey ages ago do you know how painful it is to un-give up on something that#immense. it’s hard and it hurts and it burns and it’s like. giving up to begin with didn’t hurt too bad- it’s cutting off the festering#wound. but. but then. you find out that. you can in fact work with that. and suddenly you have to try and clean the wound. care for it and#wrap it and do it all over again. and god it hurts. and. I’m not entirely sure I want to un-give up all the way on this? it’s. a lot#like I get and I appreciate that she’s trying to do. something. in theory at least. she avoids the subject when I bring it up and all but#cringed when I brought up coming out to her side of the family. she calls me my deadname and her daughter more than she did before she said#she would try. and I don’t have the energy to uncover that wound enough to start cleaning it. I’m just letting it sit there because frankly#it’ll be such a huge thing because it’s Always a huge thing when I don’t let the subject drop mega fast and I’m. I know she’s not gonna cut#me off for just being trans but GOD I want to keep ONE of my parents in my fucking life when I’m able to stand on my own two feet holy shit#and. man. it appears this is. still more of a thing than I thought it was. thats. annoying and inconvenient
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
tumblr should make a feature that gives you a pop up warning when you’re about to follow a blog you’ve previously followed and then unfollowed multiple times imo
#this is mostly a joke I don’t expect them to do this#but also I would genuinely benefit from this#I will see a blog that looks somewhat familiar and go huh I thought I followed you?#and then two days later see a nasty take and go. ah. right#like. I can’t keep track of which people I unfollowed for takes that didn’t feel block worthy#vs people who just look like other people I follow#or people who I see reblogged a lot on my dash#or people who are side blogs of people I follow#or just ‘I know I followed you but maybe tumblr accidentally made me unfollow?’#this is also why I explicitly ask people to hard block me instead of soft block me btw bc I will Not realize I am being softblocked#and may just keep coming back#but yeah guess what happened again#I may just also start hardblocking people I guess so that I see that they’re blocked#when I try to follow#but a lot of the time this is over stuff that isn’t a huge deal I just don’t want to see it#and I don’t actually care if that person interacts with me#456 words
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
It’s funny how some things can just instantly transport you back to the times you felt small and helpless. Getting iced and ignored in a group/ group chat. Struggling to understand something. Feeling lonely. Getting weird looks. Being laughed at. Suddenly I’m back in elementary school wondering why everyone picks on me, middle school wondering what’s wrong with me and why I can’t make friends, high school being pushed and shoved and ostracized. And I know I’m an adult now, and if people want to act immature and treat other people like garbage then it’s their loss not mine, but it always shocks me that for all of those things I repeat to myself, for my years of working on my self confidence and growth and understanding, how quickly I can be brought low from others. The little kid that felt like no one would ever care about them is still there somewhere. Realizing the struggle will never be over is depressing
#vent#bro this is why I don’t like servers with people I don’t know we’ll#*well#someone asked me a question bc they were interested in something I said and I responded with a slightly long message explaining#then for two hours there was just absolute silence in that channel. finally everyone just pretended the convo didn’t happen and moved on#edit: actually checked and it was almost four hours.#there is 95 members in that group chat#it’s so fucking stupid. it shouldn’t make me feel that way.#I feel like an over dramatic bitch feeling hurt from it#I was wondering why the hell I felt so down about it and couldn’t just move on and it occurred to me#that it was probably bc i haven’t exactly healed from that happening growing up#at least one of the reasons I mean#hell I’m grown and it STILL happens everywhere#and sometimes I just get so tired not knowing what I did to get that sort of response. I get so tired#at work someone summed me up to another person by saying I’m ‘pretty awkward but work hard’. I thought I got along w them pretty well#least I thought we were cool until he said that. made me realize that I was still too weird for him#the reason he likes me is just because I bust my ass trying to actually work. it’s not because of anything outside of that#I learned to be outgoing w my coworkers bc otherwise they project stuff onto me and speak for me#I still got the ‘you’re a little too quiet and don’t involve yourself with the group’ talk from my manager#i keep to myself. then I’m creepy and no one knows me well enough to care when I do speak#and then the moment I say more than two things I’m talking to much#realizing that the struggle never ends even outside of school fucking sucks man
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
God. Okay. Not to still be making Jesus Christ Superstar/Black Sails posts but there’s SUCH a parallel to be drawn between Pilate and Rogers in the way they’re both desperate not to be seen as villains, not because they object to committing horrific crimes against humanity which make them inherently villainous, but because they’re afraid for their reputations and how they’ll be remembered by history.
And they both mistakenly believe that they, as leaders of imperial occupying forces, should be able to control how they’re perceived within their narratives. But they CAN’T and this infuriates them.
this vs. Rogers and Madi’s convo in 4x09. Truly nothing like telling a man who is used to there being no limit to his power “you cannot control the outcome of this situation” (or, in Madi’s case “I’m not going to let you”).
#they’re both like ‘can’t believe i’m being FORCED to be the villain by the mean people i’m oppressing :/‘ and it’s like#dude. YOU entered into this situation!!!!!!!! YOU chose the role of ‘villain’!#you just didn’t think you were gonna get caught bc you thought all your atrocities would get passed of as ‘justified’#but NOPE hahaha fuck you!#people give JCS!Pilate a lot of shit for having a prophetic dream that killing Jesus would damn him for eternity and then doing it anyway#but that’s the whole POINT!!!!!!!!#it’s not that he doesn’t realize - it’s that he knows EXACTLY what he’s doing as he utterly destroys his reputation for all eternity#and it is SO satisfying#because that’s the whole reason he’s trying so hard to avoid crucifying Jesus - not because he’s a good or merciful person but because#he’s afraid for his good name#which is SO reminiscent of Rogers insisting on offering Madi the treaty again in 4x09#he frames it as an act of mercy inspired by Eleanor but i don’t buy that for a second#it would just be a lot more convenient for him if he could get both a signed treaty AND the cache out of this situation#because then his debts are paid AND he can frame himself as the ‘hero’ who stopped a war that could have ended civilization#whereas if he just kills them all - he doesn’t get that glory and risks not getting the cache either#AND - as it turns out - it also leads to him being defeated and having his reputation destroyed in the historical record#i am Once Again Saying that a JCS-esque AU where Flint and Silver know the ending from the start (to varying degrees) would be SO good#and it DEFINITELY involves Rogers having a prophetic dream about his defeat and humiliation and being even MORE terrified of that happening#Billy somewhat plays Judas to both Flint and Silver but so does Silver to Flint#and i don’t feel like anybody else fits in specific boxes - it’s really just Black Sails But With Selective Narrative Awareness#and it is VERY sexy and i think about it every day of my life#anybody who wants to talk more about this MESSAGE ME - i’m about to go to bed but my brain is EXPLODING#black sails
28 notes
·
View notes
Text
“Now, to play devil’s advocate-”
And how about if you didn’t??? Hmmm? Did he ask, did I??? You’re supposedly my friend; how about you start advocating for me??
#like I hate a Yes Man too but so many people I know their friend will be like ‘Yeah#so I got home and he was in bed with another person’ & their friend is like ‘Well maybe he thought you weren’t exclusive? you know?’ BRO???#/that’s/ your response to the sitch? it don’t matter if there’s a grain of truth—you’re being asked to console a friend not DA a cheater you#don’t know who is awful at worst and thoughtless and careless at best!!#this is because I had an experience recently where someone stole money (a complete stranger) from me & I talked to a friend & his response#was like ‘Well maybe he really needed it’ and ‘Maybe it was an accident and he didn’t realize he was stealing’ like Bro??? the odds of that#first off are well beyond 100 to 1 against and second who cares??? are you his DA? no asshole you’re supposed to be /MY/ friend!!#and I have another friend who had someone lie about them to try and get their friends to friend break up w the first perosn & one of the#person she was lying about for months’ friends is like ‘Oh she’s not that bad. maybe she was confused and really thought he was blackmailing#her’ UH THATS NOT A TJING!! she’s just a bitch! and if it was the perosn in a court of law who should be Proving It are HER friends!! not u!#like how goddamn hard is it even in the most black and white of situations to offer assistance or consolation or anger on their behalf or#even just a damn ‘man. that’s f’d up bro’ like the bar is /in the ground/#fuckin sick of this fake ass ‘I’m so evolved’ pose ppl have become attached to where they act like defending and apologizing#for and justifying the aggressor as charitably as humanly possible is somehow more important and holy than defending or assisting the victim
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
do you believe me now?
in which fem!reader is insecure around spencer until she finally asks him to take matters into his own hands (literally)
part two
18+ (smut)
warnings/tags: inexperienced reader, fingering, softdom!spencer my sweet sweet beloved angel, sub reader, praise, you know he talks you through it, brief mention of drinking wine, i think that's it
a/n: i hope u guys like this ! slightly different dynamic than my other stuff maybe but let me know what u think!! i love feedback and i love YOU!!!
“You’re so pretty.”
It’s the first thing Spencer has said since you two landed on his couch, exhausted from one of Rossi’s extravagant soirées. It was your first of many, if Spencer’s entire team is to be believed. More nights featuring Italian food and wine you could never afford don’t sound half bad—but for now you’re drained. You barely had the energy to kick off your heels and topple into Spencer’s lap five minutes ago. The silk dress still pools over his knees and your hair still falls in curls around your face. He brushes one aside as he continues.
“I mean—you always look beautiful. But I’ve never seen you all done up. You’re obscenely gorgeous.”
You groan awkwardly, burying your face in Spencer’s collar as your face heats. Taking compliments has never been your strong suit, especially from someone who you perceive to be so out of your league. The relationship you have with Spencer is relatively new, and sometimes you worry delicate; like one slip-up revealing the real you and he’ll go running. So far, though, he seems hellbent on proving you wrong.
His hand finds the bare skin of your arm, passing up and down gently. “Why don’t you believe me?”
“…I do.”
It’s unconvincing. Spencer scoffs.
“No, you don’t. You never believe me when I compliment you.”
The cadence of his voice is light enough, but it’s evident that there’s some genuine frustration there, lurking just under the surface.
Your head lolls over his shoulder and he angles his neck to look down at you. Hair falls over his eyes, and you’d fix it if he didn’t look so damn perfect. Everything about him looks intentional, like he was designed by someone who took great pride in their work. Not at all like you—a collage of features and spare parts you guess whatever force created you had lying around. Nothing about you feels on purpose. But that’s a hard thing to explain.
“I’m sorry. I know it’s impolite. It just feels disingenuous to accept compliments like that.”
Goosebumps arise on your arm where he touches you.
“You being polite isn’t what I’m concerned about. I just wish I could make you understand that I mean it when I compliment you. You’d know if I didn’t. I’m a terrible liar.”
That earns a giggle from you. Your boyfriend smiles, sparkling eyes darting over your face like he’s trying to bottle the sound, the memory—and you realize he probably is. What a terrifying thought. You look away, abashed once more.
“I’m a woman, Spencer. I’m not allowed to like myself. That’s the whole thing with Eve and the snake and the apple and whatever. Eternal inescapable shame.”
“Are you trying to justify your self-loathing by making it biblical? You know I’m the last person that would work on, right? Both as an agnostic-leaning-athiest and someone who thinks you’re beautiful and wonderful.”
Another groan claws its way from your throat as you slide down in embarrassment.
“You’re killing me here, Spencer.”
“What can I do to do to make you believe me?” he murmurs, carefully brushing tangles from your hair as you now rest practically prone across his lap. The ceiling light stretches behind him, haloing him in a soft glowing crown and making everything a bit more hazy and tolerable.
“It’s not your fight.” It’s meant to be playfully dramatic, but it hangs from your lips with a painful amount of earnestness.
“If it’s yours, it’s mine. That’s kind of the whole point of a relationship, right? Being a team?”
His fingers are nimble and warm between yours as you interlace them, steepling and bumping them together as you speak.
“Well, if you know so much, why are you asking me? It sounds like you know exactly what to do to make me magically love myself.”
A dangerous twitch plays at the corner of his lips as he gazes sleepily down at you.
“Oh, I have a few ideas. But I’m asking what you’d be comfortable with.”
“Whoa!” you blurt, giggling self-consciously, covering your face with your (and inadvertently one of his) hands. “Where did that come from?”
He smiles at your response to his mildly suggestive comment. “I lose my filter when I'm tired. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”
You sigh gustily, dragging his hand down to fall over your collarbones. His fingers twitch over the delicate skin, like he’d graze it if your hand wasn’t weighing his down.
“No, no, you didn’t make me uncomfortable, you just… surprised me. I’m really bad at talking about this kind of thing.”
“Sex?”
You yelp, slinging your arm over your face and hiding in the crook of your elbow. “AH! Don’t say it!”
He laughs again, a little less reserved this time.
“What? You can’t even listen to me say the word?”
“No! Too scary!”
Eventually you peek out from under your arm to find Spencer still watching you. The humor has faded from his eyes and been replaced by a kind of serene calm. He brushes a lock of hair from your shoulder.
“Come here,” he says—a request more than a demand. With some wriggling and a bit of help, you manage to reorient yourself into a sitting position across his lap once more. His touch is warm even through the fabric of your dress when he kisses you, hand sliding over your waist before moving to trace your jaw and ending up on the back of your neck, urging you closer ever so slightly. You kiss him back without hesitation or restraint, as you delight in doing when he gives you the opportunity. What you may lack in experience and refinement, you make up for with affection and enthusiasm. He pulls away after a minute, much to your dismay, and brushes his thumb over your lips. For the first time, you think you see a hint of worry in his eyes. Guilt claws at your heart when he quietly asks, “you’re not scared of me, are you?”
“No!” You assure quickly, looping your arms around his neck. “No, it’s not you. You’re perfect and I’m sure you really mean all of the nice things you say. But I just… sometimes I worry I’ll scare you away once you realize I’m not as pretty or… good as you thought.”
“That’s impossible.”
Once more you let your head fall onto his shoulder. “You don’t know that.”
His hand begins running up and down your back, soothing your sympathetic nervous system in a way that all the deep breaths in the world never could.
“I know that I really, really like you. And there’s not one part of you that I don’t find genuinely beautiful. I can’t imagine not feeling that way about you.” Your eyes flutter shut and you hum against him—a non-answer, but he doesn’t push it. Minutes go by quietly, ticking later into the night as he continues mindlessly rubbing your back and watching you breathe. “Do you want me to take you home?” He finally asks after a long while. Again, you don’t respond. He smiles. “I know you’re awake.”
The corner of your lip twitches as you attempt to suppress a grin. Spencer sighs.
“I guess if you’re already asleep you’ll just have to stay here. But it would be convenient if you’d sleepwalk to my bed so that I don’t have to carry you.”
When you begin stirring and sitting up (one eye cracked to navigate) he laughs, hands on your waist. “Would you look at that. Who knew she would be so suggestible in non-REM?” You snort as you push yourself to a standing position using Spencer’s shoulders to support yourself, and ruining the whole act. He smiles up at you like you’re something divine and lets his hands trail over your hips.
“I sleep with my eyes open.”
“Do you often have coherent conversations in your sleep, too?”
You shrug. “I’m full of surprises.”
“I’m sure you are,” he agrees, finally standing himself. “I’m assuming you don’t want to sleep in your dress?”
“I have shorts on underneath I can wear, but a shirt would be helpful.”
“Then we’ll get you a shirt.”
———————————————
Ten minutes later you’re in Spencer’s bathroom, wearing your shorts and one of his sweatshirts (you cannot imagine Spencer in a hoodie), and wiping black sludge from your eyes with makeup remover he claims was left by a friend after a particularly festive Halloween party. Hopefully he’s telling the truth—you can think of more dubious potential origins of the eye-makeup remover in his bathroom. No toothbrush—you use your finger and a generous amount of toothpaste until the red wine stains fade.
Spencer is fixing the pillows when you exit the bathroom. You hold up your hands which are completely obscured and then some by the thick fabric of his sweatshirt.
“Fits like a dream,” you say. A smile tugs at his lips as he finishes his task, before raising his eyes to you. The smile promptly fades and it’s like the sun disappearing behind an oppressive gray cloud. In an instant your stomach curdles and you feel like crawling out of your skin.
“…what?” you mumble, absolutely terrified that the thing he’d said was impossible just minutes ago has already happened. Without makeup, without a fancy dress, you’re just you, and maybe that’s not good enough.
“Uh…” He blinks, as if he’s buffering for a moment, before snapping back into action, and notably looking away from you. “It’s—it’s nothing. Do you, um—here, I tried to make it—“
“Stop. Just tell me what that was. You got all weird.”
Another pause—he looks back up at you reluctantly with a sigh.
“I did not get all weird.”
“Yes, you did. You’re still being weird. It’s freaking me out.”
He’s utterly unreadable, which drives you fucking insane, when he eventually says, “come here.” This time, you think with a chill as you shuffle on your knees across the bed to sit in front of him, it really sounds like a demand. Spencer grabs your face in his hands, studying you intently. “I know you think I’ve finally decided you’re hideously deformed, but it’s actually just the opposite. I’m trying to figure out how to keep things polite for you.”
Realization dawns on you and the swarm of new butterflies in your stomach. The usual molten gold of his irises has been encroached upon, masked by blown pupils. Your face gets hot and your voice caves when you speak.
“Oh.”
“Yeah, oh,” he agrees quietly. “Do you believe me now?”
And to his credit, you really do. The hot skin, the vibrating cells in every fiber of your being, the racing heart—your body knows he means it. Part of you, the more confident, more desirous part, drags you closer to him, ghosts your lips over his. He chuckles.
“Now you’re getting brave?”
“Am I not allowed to kiss you?” you whisper, draping your arms over his shoulders.
“You’re allowed to do whatever you want.”
The words make you shiver—the lowered, gravelly tone of his voice you’ve never heard before snaps your resolve and you lean into him, connecting your lips with a deep urgency. Spencer inhales sharply, hands wandering to your waist and bearing down firmly as you press against him. When you lean back, he follows you, insists without saying a word that you don’t stop kissing him. It sends a thrill down your spine and between your legs, which both gives you pause and eggs you on. In the end, after a very brief internal struggle, curiosity and desire win. You drop to the bed and drag him down with you—he, your willing follower, blindly searches for purchase on the plush comforter. Now he’s on top of you, legs slotted together so that his thigh is temptingly close to your core. Too shy to actually do what you want to do, you clamp your thighs around his and tilt your hips, desperate for friction. He exhales heavily, slowly pulling his lips from yours like it’s the last thing he wants to do. Fingers dig into the flesh of your hip, not enough to ache but enough to draw your attention to your movements.
“What are you doing?” he asks, firmly, but not like you’re in trouble—it’s a probing question. He’s trying to figure out if you’re aware of the way you’re nearly riding his leg.
“I don’t know,” you admit breathlessly.
“You just told me you couldn’t even listen to me say the word sex,” Spencer reminds you. “You said it was too scary.”
A frustrated whine seems to catch him by surprise, and he laughs.
“That was a long time ago. I’ve matured since then.”
“Is that what happened?” he teases.
“Honestly, I’m just really turned on right now, please—" you cut yourself off, crashing your lips into his once more. And he almost relents.
Almost.
“Slow down.”
He ceases kissing you for a second time and you’re starting to really get annoyed.
“What?” you groan. “I thought you wanted this.”
His thumbs brush over the apples of your cheeks, demanding your attention.
“I want you. In every sense of the word. If you make a bad choice tonight and it means you don’t like me anymore tomorrow, that is the opposite of what I want. I’m not saying no. I’m just asking you to think about it for a second.”
You take a deep breath, closing your eyes and attempting to steady your mind and see beyond the thick fog of lust. What you find is a (mildly surprising) complete lack of fear. You’re not scared, like you thought you’d be; you feel utterly safe underneath him, with his hands on you and his heartbeat against your chest. This is a kind of intimacy you want to have with him.
Your eyes open to reveal his, close enough you can see the tiny flecks of green. And so much warmth. Everything about him is warm.
“This is what I want,” you assert. “I promise.”
His gaze flits between yours for a moment, pulling the truth from your soul like he might be able to find an imperfection there. But you mean it—and he seems satisfied. He trusts you, like you trust him.
“Okay.”
A sigh of relief never quite finds completion before he’s kissing you again. Immediately the fire is stoked once more, the heat between your legs getting warmer when he experimentally pushes his thigh against you. You breathe into the kiss, pressing down on him and surrendering to the unconscious rhythm of your hips. He lets that go on for a minute or two until you’re so distracted that you can’t kiss him back.
Unexpectedly he pulls away, disentangling himself from your legs. You stammer in frustration until his fingers hook under the soft material of your shorts. “Hips up.”
Wordlessly you comply, succumbing to his gentle words and touch. He bows to kiss you as he slides the fabric down unhurriedly. Once the shorts are gone, he sits up, and carefully lifts one of your legs over his lap, gaze unabashedly glued between them.
“Eyes up here,” you try to joke, but it’s steeped in self-consciousness and your heart is pounding. He manages, stroking the inside of your knee with a thumb as he leans down again.
“But you’re so pretty,” he murmurs, before he’s kissing you again. “Just like I knew you would be.”
You whimper when his hand skates over your stomach, lower, and lower, and—
“Tell me one more time, sweetheart.”
Your plead is just as hungry and yearning. “Please, Spencer?”
It works for him.
When his knuckles brush over your clit, you forget to breathe. When they barely skim your entrance, collecting arousal to drag back upward, your brain malfunctions. It is not enough, maddeningly so, but when he finds a careful, introductory rhythm, it’s immediately bordering on too much, too good.
Your stomach tenses and you are surprised by your own sighs and hesitant gasps as you try to adjust to the feeling of someone else’s hand between your legs.
“Does that feel good?” he murmurs against your lips.
“Mhm,” you chirp. Slow but insistent circles elicit a cry that gets caught in your throat, melting into a hum. Your eyes are closed, but you can hear the smile in Spencer’s voice.
“You’re sensitive, huh?”
“S—sometimes.”
He hums contemplatively.
“Sometimes? Can you tell me about that?”
You can’t hardly think around those gentle movements of his hand, let alone speak. He touches you like you’re something delicate. It’s torturous and perfect. But you try to answer anyway, managing to keep the stammering to a minimum.
“About what?”
“I want to know what you think about when you touch yourself.” The smooth words in tandem with an incremental increase in pressure earn you first real moan. Timid and unpracticed, but very genuine.
The answer comes immediately afterward; thoughtlessly and on a shuddering exhalation.
“You.”
“Yeah?” he smiles. “Good answer.”
Your eyes open fractionally to study his expression. You’d felt so much shame every time you’d imagined him in your bed late at night.
“Really?”
“Really. And now look at you. Letting me do it for you.” As if to remind you, he speeds up the motion of his hand. On instinct you bring your fingers to your lips as you moan through a closed throat, partly to stifle the noise and partly because you don’t know what to do with the hand that’s not gripping the duvet. “Do you only touch here?” His fingers slide down to your slick entrance and your hips buck, mourning the loss of stimulation. “Or do you touch here, too?”
You shake your head, breathing hard as he teases a finger around the soft place you’ve never really bothered to explore. “Never feels good when I try.”
“We’re gonna make it feel good, okay?”
You nod hesitantly, leaning back into the pillows when he kisses you again.
His lips are so distracting, so intoxicating you almost forget what he’s doing until he does it. It’s a foreign sensation—not entirely pleasant or unpleasant. For a moment or two your brows furrow as you focus on the feeling, worried that maybe you’re broken just as you thought—until you feel a slight stretch and you realize he’s pushing a second finger into you now. A kiss lands on your cheek when you grab his arm with a choked gasp, and he mutters, “deep breaths,” into your ear. “I know it’s new, honey, just breathe.”
“Fuck,” you whimper as you look down, and you didn’t realize you were going to say it until it’s already passed between your lips. Pressure begins melding with the promise of pleasure, and something about watching his hand move between your legs—the tendons flexing and wrist bending as he eases into what is clearly a perfected motion—arouses you so much you moan at the sight alone. Flipping pages is all you thought that hand was meant for. It’s like a secret revealed as you watch it do something so salacious, and to you.
A hot spark of pleasure flares deeper in you than you’ve ever felt. It catches and grows faster than you’d of thought—suddenly you can feel everything and it all feels better than you thought possible. Your jaw drops and a surprised huff of air blows a strand of your hair away.
“Oh my god,” comes your breathy little whisper, unprepared for and intimidated by how good he’s making you feel. Filthy noises come from between your legs and you clench around his fingers. You had no idea you could make those noises. You had no idea you could get so wet.
“Yeah, there we go.” His voice sounds a little further away now. You manage to tear your eyes away from all the action to his face. Much like you, he’s transfixed by the sight, brow furrowed and pretty lips parted in what could be concentration, or some sort of empathetic pleasure. His face has more color to it than usual and his breaths come heavier—it’s a very pleasant sight. Suddenly his fingers brush against a spot deep within you and your hips cant upward, a mewl pulled from the depths of your throat that has more control over you than you do it. Spencer’s eyes flash back to you, a grin playing at his lips. He does it again, looking right into your eyes, and you whine so pitifully your face flushes.
“Too much?” he asks. You shake your head firmly, arching your back when he unconsciously slows down. At your response his fingers begin rutting into you again, committing to that spot inside you that makes you see stars. “Of course not. You’re gonna take whatever I give you, huh?”
“Uh-huh,” you nod. You’d do just about anything for him right at this second. Spencer holds an immense amount of power over you in this moment, and potentially in all future moments moving forward. But you trust him with it.
“You don’t have anything to prove to me. I just want you to feel good. You’ll tell me if it’s too much, right?”
But it’s really not too much. It’s exactly right. Your verbal capacity is acutely limited right now, so you can’t exactly say it, but you lock eyes with him and whine shamelessly, hips twisting against his hand. You think he gets the message.
Hair falls over his face and he doesn’t fix it, opting instead to alternate his gaze between your cunt and face, cursing to himself lowly. You wouldn’t want him to stop and fix his hair—what you want is this, for him to keep pushing you toward that elusive edge and to keep looking at you like you put all the stars in the sky.
“Look at you, my pretty girl. I’m so proud of you. I know this isn’t easy. I know you were scared. Thank you for letting me do this, honey.”
It’s the unexpected tenderness of the words, perfectly misplaced in the context of the moment. It’s the devotion, the honesty in his eyes, shining through the haze of lust, which makes your stomach drop and all your muscles tense. A million thoughts jumble in your head, dizzying and thrilling and confusing, but mostly all you can think is Spencer, Spencer, Spencer. Is this how it always is? Your hands tangle in the sheets—and then all the thoughts vanish. Everything is warm and fuzzy and sparkling clean, no worries, no lingering thoughts, no self-awareness at all. It’s nirvana. It’s revelatory. It’s ridiculous that he did this all in under five minutes and you haven’t been able to do it once even with very concerted effort.
Slowly you float back into your body, breathing hard and watching through half-lidded eyes as Spencer gently pulls his hand away. Without him you feel weirdly empty and cold, like he should have been there all along. But his touch isn’t absent for long—he runs his hand over the bridge between your hips, little finger dipping into the crease of your thigh.
“That’s never… I’ve never done that before,” you admit, slurring your words only slightly.
His perfect features contort into a half-frown, half-smile.
“You’ve never had an orgasm?” You nod. His head tilts. “Really? You didn’t tell me that.”
“When would I have told you?” you laugh, finding his waist with your hand and encouraging him to settle his weight on you. He does, burying his face in your neck and exhaling heavily.
“Well?” you ask shyly, skating your fingers over his back. “Did I do it right?”
Spencer snorts, but presses a sickeningly sweet kiss to the curve of your neck.
“Did you like it?”
“Yes,” you admit, voice smaller than you’d have liked. He pushes himself up onto his forearms and kisses you softly.
“Then we both did it right.”
“But…” you stare up into his warm honey eyes, searching for any bits of hidden truth you can find. He brushes a strand of hair away from your face, utterly unconcerned. “You know what I mean.”
“I do,” he agrees, “and I’ll say this because I know otherwise you’re going to worry about it forever.” He studies your face reverently for a moment, before parting his lips to speak. The words are slow to come, like he’s trying to figure the sentence out as he goes along. “You… are going to be, problematic, for me.”
Your whisper is almost as small as you feel under his heavy gaze. “What d’you mean?”
“I mean,” Spencer begins, voice low, “I think I liked that too much. Do you see why that’s troubling?”
The flame you thought had been quenched flickers back to life like a pilot light. Your thighs press together to alleviate a growing ache in a still sensitive area and you answer, “no,” with a small shake of your head. His thumb tenderly traces your jaw, ever-patient despite the fact that you’re obviously playing coy.
“Because I can’t have you all the time.”
“Yes you can,” you say without hesitation, though your eyes are fluttering. “You can have me whenever you want. Right now.”
He hums, pressing a kiss to your cheek.
“Not tonight. You’ve had enough. You’re tired.”
“I’m wide awake,” you slur, tangling a hand in his hair even as you lose the battle against your eyelids.
He sighs good-naturedly, gently wrapping his fingers around your wrist and brushing his lips over the delicate skin.
“You’re shockingly precocious.”
You hum.
“You just unleashed the beast. You’re like Doctor Frankenstein.”
He chuckles, sitting up and finding your shorts. You manage to be semi-helpful, lifting your legs at appropriate junctures as he tugs your clothing back on. “And you’re a nerd.”
“I don’t need to take that from you of all people.”
“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that,” Spencer says, and the smile in his voice makes you smile, a quarter asleep as he leans over to turn off the lamp on your side of the bed before tugging the covers over both of you.
He pulls you close in the dark, releasing a deep sigh as you curl into him. His heartbeat is steady against your ear, his arms warm around you. You can imagine making a home for yourself here. And you don’t know if he’s thinking it, but you hope he is, as you are silently repeating to yourself with every beat of his heart;
I love you
I love you
I love you.
#spencer reid#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid smut#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x self insert#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid fic#criminal minds#criminal minds smut#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds imagine
4K notes
·
View notes
Text
“hm hello? do you need help?” yuuji approached the lady walking the hallways so slowly she seemed lost.
“huh?” you turned and he smiled, thinking how gorgeous you looked. your uniform was a lot like nobara’s, although it was lighter, like it was slightly bleached or just worn a lot, “no, i… i go here.”
“oh are you gojo-sensei’s student too?” he was excited to meet another student, it was such a big school for just a few people.
“gojo… sensei” you repeated confused.
“oh you must be utahime-sensei’s student then? from kyoto?” he tilted his head, like a puppy.
“utahime…” you whispered, “is geto here?” you asked with a certain urgency in your voice, “geto suguru.”
“who? geto?” he scratched his head, trying to remember if he heard about a sensei called geto suguru, “i don’t think i—“
“itadori!” megumi called from outside, yuuji saw him die below through the open windows of the second floor he was at, his classmate probably saw him as well.
“ah fushiguro!” he greeted his friend and turned back to you, “i’ll ask megumi, he’s been here for longer than me.”
“who you talking to?!” megumi shouted.
“her!” he pointed, you were in front of him, right by the opened window too, he couldn’t see you?
megumi even moved a bit, “itadori, there’s no one there. stop playing, we got to leave!” megumi scolded him before entering the building.
“eh?” yuuji was frowning.
“sorry, i think i’m in the wrong place” you bowed and turned away running.
“wait!” he ran after you, turning corners he thought you could’ve gone but after a few ones he reached a dead end.
“hm? yuuji?” gojo emerged from a classroom.
“gojo-sensei! there was… someone…” he looked around.
“oi, we’re waiting for you, let’s go” megumi came from where he was, grabbing yuuji by the hood of his uniform and dragging him away.
gojo watched through a window as they walked down the staircase until both boys walked out of the building.
“that was weird” you murmured from inside the classroom he was in, “that boy called you sensei” you put more rice into your hungry mouth, “does yaga know you’re pretending to be a teacher here?”
satoru closed the door, lighting another incense on the table that you used to sit. where every year on the anniversary of your death he built a shrine with food you liked.
“i thought haibara was in a mission but i saw him by the tree” you pointed behind you with your chopsticks, where, outside the classroom and behind the building remained the tree you always had lunch underneath during hot summer days.
he undid the blindfold, letting his hair fall as he sat in front of you, admiring how you never aged a day. after all, you couldn’t.
in fact, it seemed like you didn’t realize how much time has passed. every year you appeared and every year you thought it was still 2006, when you had two kouhais that did everything you asked, a girl best friend that insisted you smoked with her and two boys that were helplessly in love with you. the last year you were alive.
“is suguru not coming?” you asked with your mouth full.
gojo swallowed hard, “no, angel. it’s just us.”
#i gotta say i kinda love writing dead readers#also this is unrelated to ghost!reader from middle ground#be real did you see the plot twist coming#divider by cafekitsune#jjk x reader#jjk angst#gojo x reader#<- i guess?
4K notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
janerochaa
Sol loiro ☀
abolayemi
Untitled
fabienborgondoscammer
Fabien Borgondo - Hofborg Properties - Scammer
