#but also im so so sorry that u had to see me have A Time on here fsdhgkl
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do you believe me now? | 4
in which spencer reid and inexperienced fem!reader are interrupted at the most inopportune of times. he calls you on the first night of his case. dirty talk turns into a hard conversation. we get a glimpse into spencer's past, and we finally learn why he's so hesitant to sleep with you.
part one | part two | bonus chapter | part three
18+ (smut)
warnings/tags: dirty talk, phone sex/mutual masturbation, softdom!spence, obligatory he talks u through it, lots of graphic discussions of sex, established relationship, angst (sorrryyy!)
a/n: so remember how i said you'd need the bonus chapter to fully appreciate/understand this part? i was wrong!! it will come in handy probably in the next part tho:) also idk how these parts keep getting so long im sorry! anyway, i love you all so bad. thank you for bearing w/ my craziness. PLEASE let me know your thoughts on this part!! i adore hearing from you!! kisses
(also special thank you to @fliesforeyes who convinced me phone sex w/ spence could be done!! i will link his phone sex blurb here :)) thank u binx!!
“Three million six hundred eighty four thousand three hundred thirty two times fourteen million seven hundred sixty one thousand nine hundred seventy one.”
You’ve lost count of how many stupid math questions you’ve asked your human calculator boyfriend, just to see if he can actually do them. Spencer is silent for a second, and you think you’ve finally stumped him.
“That one is complicated.”
You sit bolt upright in his bed, looking down at him and pointing an accusatory finger. His brows raise at the manic look in your eye.
“You don’t know.”
“I do know. I meant it would be hard to explain if you aren’t a math person.”
“Bullshit!” You scoff, “you don’t know!”
“It would display on a calculator as five-point-three-eight-eight-E-thirteen. It’s a really big number.”
“Oh, really big, huh?” you mumble, searching for your phone blindly in the sheets and scrambling to open the calculator app. “Um… what numbers did I say?”
Spencer repeats them back to you and you press the equals sign.
You look at it.
And then you set your phone down.
“I was right, huh?” he smiles up at you, probably reveling in your pouty wrongness.
Too proud to admit it, you collapse on top of him, burying your face in his shoulder.
“I don’t like this game anymore. What the fuck even is an e? Why are we doing algebra?”
Spencer laughs, brushing your hair aside.
“The e stands for exponent. It’s to the power of ten.”
“Ever heard of a rhetorical question?”
“Yes, I have.”
It’s hard not to snort even at his dumbest jokes.
“You’re annoying. Let’s do something else.”
You roll over onto your back again, letting your head flop over to look at Spencer, whose hair is exactly the right amount of messy after a long day, falling in impossibly soft waves over the perfect lines and contours of his face. Despite lounging, he’s still in his suit from work—he’d left Quantico and immediately picked you up. There were no solid plans for the evening, so after both of you pretended that you wanted to go out for a while, you ended up back at his apartment.
He looks good. Almost too good.
“Something like what?” he smiles lazily, reaching over and tracing his fingers over your cheek.
“Something… naked?”
His grin widens and he shakes his head.
“Me naked or you naked?”
Pretending to think about it, you roll your bottom lip between your teeth.
“Mm… why not both?”
“Hm. Why do I feel like I know where this is going?”
The mattress sinks underneath your elbow as you prop yourself up, dropping your head over Spencer’s to kiss him.
“Because you’re so smart, and you think it’s a great idea.”
He entertains your kiss for a moment. Just a moment.
“You sound sure of yourself.”
“Because I am!” You finally give in to your impulses, tangling your fingers in his hair and looking at him meaningfully. “It doesn’t make any sense for us to have not had sex. I don’t care about any of your weird, cryptic moral reasoning.”
He grabs your wrist carefully.
“It is not moral,” he scoffs. “We haven’t even talked about it yet.”
“Really? Because I feel like we’ve talked about it a lot.”
He begins to reply, but you realize you don’t want to get into a debate over whether you’ve technically talked about it yet. “I don’t even care! If that’s all that’s standing in your way, then let’s talk about it. Right now.”
Spencer sighs, his eyes darting between yours as he reaches up to cradle your cheek.
“Fine. But I have things to say you’re not going to like.”
“So business as usual?”
He rolls his eyes. You allow yourself a tiny self-satisfied smirk, forever relishing in his poorly-hidden soft spot for your constant teasing. Spencer ignores this. Which is probably for the best.
“I know you probably won’t see it this way, but—sex is different than everything else we’ve done so far. It can be really fun, obviously it feels good, it facilitates deeper feelings of connection—that’s all true. Which is why, in my opinion, it’s incredibly important that you be selective with who you sleep with. Because it’s so easy to do something you regret, and sex is vulnerable. It should always be with someone you trust and—and… care about.”
A pink flush stains his cheeks like watercolor as he stumbles over the last few words. It makes your heart flutter against the confines of your chest.
Maybe best not to think about the absence versus presence of certain four-letter words and what they may or may not mean. You’ll move on to more pressing matters and pretend like it doesn’t ache just a little in your whole body.
You cover his hand with your own.
“Are you going to break up with me anytime soon?”
Spencer’s eyes widen, filling with genuine horror and confusion.
“What? No!”
“Are you going to cheat on me?”
“Absolutely not, I—”
“Then I’m not going to regret it. Issue resolved. Moving on.”
“Honey, I just want you to be 100% sure that I’m what you want.”
“Oh my god,” you groan, flopping onto your back once more. “I have begged you to sleep with me on multiple occasions. We have been dating for months and I liked you even longer before that. I think about it literally every time I see you. I don’t know how to be any surer.”
It’s quiet for a moment as you study the imaginary pattern on the ceiling. The rebuttal you’d been anticipating doesn’t come—instead, the mattress shifts next to you. Spencer enters your field of vision, now leaning over you with a little smile on his face that gives you butterflies.
“Every time?”
“…yes, every time,” you agree, voice considerably thinner than it had been a moment ago. Spencer glances at your lips as he speaks.
“Interesting. And what is it that you think about exactly?”
You groan again, attempting to roll facedown, but he pins your shoulder to the bed. The way he’s sweetly kissing down your cheek and jaw is infuriating because you know it’s a false pretense.
“Ugh, I don’t know! Don’t make me answer that!”
“You said if talking about it was all that was standing in my way, we would talk about it. Now I want to talk about it. Come on,” he says, voice low and cloying against your throat as he attempts to tease the answer out of you. “Tell me what you think about when you think about us having sex.”
You let out a shaky breath at the feeling of his lips skimming your neck, hating how easily he can reduce you to this.
“I… I always wonder what it will feel like. Sometimes I wonder if it will hurt.”
Spencer sighs, interrogation by way of seduction momentarily forgotten. You silently curse yourself for saying something so un-sexy.
“It might, sweetheart. That’s one of the reasons we’ve held back. I… really don’t want to hurt you. I don’t even know if I can.”
You grab his face in both hands, forcing him to look at you with more confidence than you feel.
“Sometimes I worry about it, too. But I like you a lot more than it scares me. I still want to.”
He kisses your palm.
“You’ll be okay. It doesn’t hurt for everyone, and even if it does, you’re resilient.”
“Exactly. So you have to get over yourself.”
Spencer laughs like he wasn’t expecting to, eyes sparkling as he regards you.
“Yeah. Yeah, maybe I do.”
He’s smiling again as he leans down and kisses you—a slow, lingering thing which tastes like spearmint as you part your lips for him.
“Please?” you whisper against him after a long moment. He hums, keeps kissing you.
“What is it that you think you want? You don’t even know what you’re asking for.”
“Tell me,” you beg, chasing his lips. “Tell me what you’re going to do with me. We can talk about it. This is talking about it.”
Spencer exhales deeply, wedging a thigh between yours. Immediately you clamp around it, trying not to grind against him too overtly.
“You want to know what I’d do to you?”
“Yes—” you paw at his jacket. Surprisingly, he doesn’t stop you from pushing it off. Your heart pounds.
“Well… we both know how anxious you get,” he muses, pressing his lips so delicately to your fluttering pulse-point in emphasis, and then back to your mouth. His thigh pushes harder against you to supplant the absence of his lips as he speaks, though he kisses you sporadically and between sentences. “You’re hard to get out of your head when you’re nervous, you know that? I watch it happen. One minute you’re with me, and then you start overthinking, and getting self-conscious. The only thing that seems to relax you is letting me touch you—so first I would touch you like I’ve touched you before. I’d make sure you know how pretty you are and how good you deserve to feel.” You whimper inadvertently at his words, arching into him and grinding against his leg as he pauses to kiss the sensitive soft spot below your jaw. “You’re going to need to be really ready to let me in. Do you know what I mean by that?”
As he asks, he pushes his thigh against you harder. Your body responds immediately, arching into him and seeking more friction. When you squeak, he takes it as a no.
“I mean I need you relaxed and wet. You’ll excuse my crude language.”
You pull at his tie, breathing heavier now and so turned on it’s almost painful.
“What are you gonna do after that?”
“What else is there to do but fuck you after that?” he breathes. “You want me to tell you how I’d fuck you?”
Something about it makes you whine salaciously. You’ve heard him curse—you’ve even heard him talk about fucking you. But it feels more real now; when it’s low in your ear and you’re covertly undressing him and he’s pushing your shirt over your stomach promisingly.
“Yes, please.”
He hums against your jaw, nipping and brushing his lips over the skin as he considers. Leaves you waiting.
“I would have to take my time with you. You’ll be overwhelmed. I know you think you won’t, but you will. I’m going to have to be so, so careful with you, angel. It’s going to drive me insane. But it will feel good for you.”
“Why careful? I don’t want that.”
He chuckles. A chill runs down your spine.
“Yeah, you do. You’re going to want me to be careful when I’m—” he pauses, pressing his thumb to your bare lower tummy and dragging up to a spot below your belly button. He presses down lightly again. “Right here. Approximately.”
The surface of the sun has nothing on the temperature of your skin in this moment, as you writhe underneath him in both arousal and embarrassment. Mostly, burning need. You feel almost sick with it.
“Please don’t make me wait anymore. Just do it, please, Spencer. I need it to be you, I don’t want it to be anyone else. I promise I’m ready.”
It’s silent for a moment. Your heart quickens. You sense his walls wearing away, his instinct to keep you intact for god knows what reason crumbling. He’s finally going to give you what you’ve been begging for.
Spencer opens his mouth, eyes glimmering—
And then his phone rings.
You both freeze—he melts dejectedly before you do, more accustomed to an ill-timed phone call and realizing the finality it can present.
He’s breathing heavily against your neck, as if maybe whoever it is will just hang up. But the phone keeps ringing.
“I’m sorry.”
Your stomach sinks as he sits up, grabbing his phone from the side table and rubbing circles on your inner thigh as he answers.
“This is Reid,” he says, lackluster.
If you wanted, you could hear what Penelope is saying—but you don’t bother listening. It’s going to be a case. Spencer is about to leave. The details are his problem.
“Okay. I’ll be there in an hour.”
He hangs up, tossing the phone onto the mattress and not speaking for a moment, just continuing to rub your leg apologetically. Watching you almost mournfully—taking in your disheveled hair, your likely blown-out pupils, the shirt pushed almost over your chest.
“I have to go right now,” he finally manages with a heavy sigh, gently pulling your shirt back into place.
You sit up, shedding all the hopes that had been building for the evening, and try to sound chipper—though all you feel is bitter disappointment that goes deeper than you understand.
“I know. Go ahead, I can get a cab home.”
He frowns, running his hand over the back of your hair.
“I don’t love the idea of you standing on the sidewalk waiting for a car in this part of town so late. Do you just want to stay here for the night and go home tomorrow?”
You force a smile. Great. So you’ll be spending the night in his bed after all—just without him.
“Sure. Thanks.”
“Yeah.”
Neither of you are feeling particularly grateful.
Soon you’re walking him to his own door. Both of you come to a stop in front.
“I’m sorry,” he sighs again.
“Spencer, it’s fine. It’s your job. You don’t need to apologize. You were very clear about this part when we started dating.”
“I know, but… it’s easier in theory than in practice.”
You smile. If Spencer is a reflection of you, it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. His hair is still messy from your fingers running through it and he’s missing his tie. You hope all his coworkers see and feel bad about taking him away from you.
But it’s not their fault. You just want someone to blame.
Instead you mould yourself to his body, wrapping around him like you belong there. He returns your embrace, pressing his lips into the crook of your shoulder and rubbing your back in that way he always does with you.
In that moment, your affection for him becomes so profound it’s like a chemical reaction—everywhere he touches burns and you love him so fucking much it aches in every inch of your body the way your muscles do when you have a bad fever. Love is the most terrible of afflictions, you realize. It is a fever dream. It’s every fiber of your being screaming to tell him how you feel, to beg him on your knees not to go because you love him like a child loves a parent or a bee loves honeysuckle or the ocean loves the horizon. Pared down to your most basic components, the barest version of yourself, you require him. Your soul needs his soul.
“Spencer?”
“Hm?”
It’s nothing more than an absentminded hum against your skin.
“I…”
Should you be looking him in the eye when you say this? Should you say it right before he has to leave? Just because you say it doesn’t change the fact that he’s about to be gone for several long days. Maybe this is a terrible time to admit something that suddenly feels so true and so consequential.
He senses your internal conflict, pulling back despite your resistance and holding your face between his hands.
“You what?” He murmurs, soft eyes bouncing back and forth between your own. Fuck—you feel so observed, now. Like he can read your mind.
“I forget.”
FUUUUUUCK.
Spencer blinks. Processes. You watch the disbelief crystallizing over his eyes like ice freezing over a lake.
He knows.
He knows you didn’t forget, and he probably knows what you were going to say, and he’s going to tell himself he was wrong to spare your dignity.
Everything hurts when he kisses you. You wonder what regret tastes like.
“Well, let me know if you remember.”
It’s too gentle and at the same time he can’t hide the edge with all the tenderness in the world. You nod as if in a trance, already looking forward to dissociating as you lie in bed and stare at the dark ceiling.
Two small goodbyes are exchanged, slightly stifled now, as if shared between drunk strangers who have sobered up and are mutually embarrassed about how candidly they’d interacted before.
You close the door behind him, doing up all the locks, and meticulously flick every light switch in the apartment off before climbing into his bed—though you don’t really feel like you deserve to be there anymore.
But perhaps this is all an overreaction. It’s not like you owe it to him to say I love you, or anything—it was bad timing, anyway. And why can’t he say it? In fact, why hasn’t he said it?
Maybe you have it all wrong.
Maybe he doesn’t feel that way about you.
You fall asleep before you allow these questions to make you sick.
24 hours go by.
24 hours go by and you really had meant to leave his apartment—it was just that you woke up late, and your phone was dead so you couldn’t call a car, so you charged it while you made breakfast, and then you ate, and then you decided to take a shower and wash your clothes, and then it was two in the afternoon and you hadn’t left yet and you decided to walk to the store and replenish the groceries you’d used up.
Maybe you got a bit distracted looking at flowers and other beautiful things at the market and by the time you got home it was 5:00, so you decided to wait until seven to skip rush hour. And then eight, just to be sure.
Before you know it, it’s midnight, and you’re dozing off in his bed again (teeth cleaned with the brush you’d bought at the store—maybe this whole situation hadn’t been entirely unwitting on your part.)
Throughout the day, you tried to let all your anxiety about the previous night melt away. If it’s something that needs to be addressed, Spencer will address it. Everything will work out in the end. That thought is how you’re able to doze off.
You’re almost asleep when your phone lights up and begins buzzing on the side table. You wince as your eyes open, not adjusting well to the harsh bright display and unable to discern who’s even calling you at this hour. Stupidly, probably because you’re half asleep, you answer without checking.
“Hello?”
Your voice is groggy, quiet with sleep.
“Shit, did I wake you?”
“Spence?” you whisper, stomach flipping at the sound of his voice on the other line. You feel caught, still sleeping in his bed.
“… yeah,” he chuckles. “Did you not check who was calling before you picked up?”
“I was asleep,” you pout. “Kinda.”
“Okay. Go back to sleep, honey. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
You sit bolt upright, phone balanced between tense fingers and speaking directly into the microphone.
“No! No, I’m awake. What’s up? Why did you call?”
A longer stretch of silence—you’re too sleepy to comprehend what it might mean, though never too sleepy to worry about it. With a pang of pain, you recall your strange goodbye, the words you hadn’t said.
“I just needed to hear your voice,” he sighs. You frown, staring at nothing in particular in the pitch black room.
“Oh. Is everything okay?”
“As much as it can be.”
“Right.”
More quiet. You chew on the inside of your cheek, stricken with a sudden feeling of awkwardness that you haven’t had with Spencer in a while.
“I’m sorry… I don’t really know what to say.”
“That’s okay,” he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice which makes you feel a bit better, “why don’t you tell me about your day? Or you can absolutely go back to sleep, if you’re too tired.”
“Don’t ask me about my day,” you whisper, flopping down on the bed once more. Shame seeps into your voice. He laughs.
“What? Why?”
“Because if I tell you you’re going to think I’m super weird and you’re going to break up with me.”
Laughter tapers off into gentler tones.
“I already think you’re super weird. It’s actually one of your most attractive qualities.”
Blood rushes to your cheeks.
“But it’s like… borderline crazy.”
Immediately, he replies, “for better or worse, I also frequently find myself attracted to crazy.”
“Thank you for calling me crazy and super weird,” you grumble.
“I also called you attractive twice. Tell me.”
When his tone takes on that easy, assertive quality, and it’s sort of raspy and low because it’s late and he’s been talking all day, and you can hear the lazy smile on his face—you imagine him laying on his hotel bed, arm slung over his eyes in the dark as he grins into the microphone—you have a very difficult time saying no.
“Fine. Guess where I am right now.”
“Um, I would hope you’re in bed?”
You smile to yourself, basking in the victory of successfully throwing him off his game even slightly.
“Guess whose bed.”
Silence.
“What an interesting question.” That cocky smile, the low drawling is back, and you chew on your lip, ignoring the shiver that runs down your spine. “If it’s not mine or yours, we’re going to have issues.”
“But if it is yours? You’re not going to call the police on me?”
“Why would I call the police? To tell them there’s a pretty girl in my bed and I don’t want her there?”
“To tell them your psychopathic girlfriend broke into your apartment and might be holding hostages there.”
Spencer laughs; a brittle, drawn out thing, flat and quiet as the desert.
“If you were a psychopath, calling the cops would be a waste of time. I would handle you myself.” The idea of being handled has your thighs clenching. “But—yeah, don’t invite anyone else in.” More humor finds its way into his voice, momentarily relieving some tension that had sneakily begun to build. “Having people in my space makes me anxious.”
“But not me?” Your whisper is half flirtatious, half insecure. Spencer’s reply is soft, as if he’s picking up on this from hundreds of miles away.
“No, not you. You are always the exception.”
“Good,” you say, cheeks aching as you half-bury your warm face into his pillow. “Because I made myself really comfortable. You have a nice shower, by the way.”
Spencer groans.
“You’re killing me.”
“What? What did I do!”
“Don’t talk to me about my bed and my shower. I might start to think you’re intentionally being a brat.”
“You asked me about my day! I’m just telling you what I did!”
But you’re also intentional teasing him for sure. After a pause, he sighs in defeat.
“You’re right. I did do that. Tell me what else happened.”
“Well,” you begin, all too eager, “I had to put my clothes in the dryer after I got out, so I borrowed some of yours. But then they were way comfier than mine, so after I went to the store I put them back on, and—”
“Okay.”
“Okay what?” you frown.
“Tell me what this is.”
“I—I don’t know what you mean.”
Lying to a profiler is usually pointless.
“I’m not stupid, sweetheart. Tell me why you keep talking about my shower and my bed and my clothes.”
Caught red-handed. Your skin heats up.
“I don’t know. I miss you.”
He hums in a way that blurs the line between sympathetic and patronizing. Even through the phone you can feel the bass of it in your bones. It changes the frequency you’re vibrating at. It’s hypnotic.
“But that’s not really why you’re being intentionally provocative, is it?”
“No,” you admit quietly. “I’m still upset you had to go last night.”
“So you’re frustrated and you’re taking it out on me?”
Your brow furrows. Well, when he puts it like that…
“I’m not taking anything out on you.”
“I think you are. And I don’t appreciate that, because I’m on your side, honey. Do you think I prefer being in a hotel bed by myself or being in my bed with you?”
Somehow, he makes you feel like a scolded child. But he makes it appealing in ways you don’t understand.
“Your bed with me,” you murmur, skin prickling with the coldness of his absence even as you curl under the blanket.
“Right. So why don’t you tell me what I can do for you right now, instead of punishing me for things that are beyond my control?”
“I wasn’t punishing you,” you mutter.
“No? You weren’t intentionally talking about using my shower and sleeping in my bed and putting on my clothes so that I’d have to think about what I can’t have right now?”
“I—”
“Believe me when I tell you I have been thinking about what I can’t have, all day. Your efforts are entirely redundant and you can’t say anything about yourself that is even close to as dirty as the frankly disrespectful thoughts I’ve been having about you for seventeen hours.”
The lack of air is making you so dizzy your vision goes gray at the edges.
“What… what thoughts?”
“None that you need to concern yourself with.”
“You can’t just say something like that and then not tell me!” you insist. He’s obviously giving you a taste of your own medicine and it’s fair but it doesn’t mean you have to like it.
“I can do whatever I want,” Spencer corrects cooly in a way that pisses you off beyond belief because he’s right. It triggers some adolescent immaturity within you—a desire to get back at him, so to speak. He wants intentionally provocative? He can have it.
“Fine. Then so can I. And there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it even if I could.”
“Spencer,” you warn. “If you don’t tell me what you were thinking I’m gonna—” you look around the room for ammo. “I’m gonna look through your nightstand!”
“Go ahead. I’ll warn you, it’s not very interesting.”
“Sounds like what someone who has something hide would say,” you mumble, crawling across the mattress through tangled sheets and using your phone flashlight to open the drawer.
Spencer is patient and silent as you take in its contents—a small blue leather-bound notebook (full of what looks like Russian), a fountain pen, a glasses case, various kinds of vitamins, and—
“Spencer Reid,” you say, dragging out his name and pretending nothing is fluttering in your stomach, “what are these?”
“I don’t know. I can’t see what you’re referring to.”
“Take a wild guess.”
“Oh, I have one. But I’d like to hear you say it.”
You realize you may have gotten yourself in deeper than you meant to by going through his stuff. Well—they don’t say karma is a bitch for nothing.
“What are you doing with a box of condoms?”
He chuckles and you feel it in your whole body, warm as you stretch across his mattress and eye the box like it might jump out at you.
“Those are years old. I’ve used three since I bought them.”
“Don’t tell me that,” you whine. “I don’t wanna think about all the other women you’ve seduced.”
“You wanted them to be for you, huh?”
You flush. Honestly you hadn’t even thought about that.
“I… I don’t know. I kind of just assumed…”
It’s silent for a second and you frown, realizing you hadn’t even considered protection when you’d imagined sleeping with him before.
“You assumed what, honey?” he asks, voice soft.
“It’s dumb. I can’t tell you.”
“You can tell me anything. I’m not going to think it’s dumb, I promise.”
You chew on your lip, letting your eyes unfocus on the box as you muster the courage to be honest.
“Whenever I imagined it… we didn’t… use anything.”
The words make you cringe even as you’re saying them. So does the quiet that follows.
“When you imagine us sleeping together, we don’t use a condom?”
“Ah!” The phone drops to the mattress as you cover your ears and roll onto your side, curling into yourself once more. “You didn’t have to say it! You make me sound so weird!”
“It’s not weird,” he laughs, because he can probably imagine exactly what you just did, “I just wanted to make sure I was understanding you. That said… we would definitely use protection.”
“Do we have to?”
The quiet words take even you by surprise—and they seem to stun Spencer as well. Several false starts are punctuated by a sigh as he gathers his thoughts.
“We really should, baby. That’s the kind of thing we need to take seriously.”
“But you’re… you’re good, right?”
Thankfully he picks up on your meaning.
“I am. I wouldn’t touch you if I weren’t.”
“And I’m good. So...”
“Hm. And has anyone ever explained to you where babies come from?”
You groan in frustration.
“Spencer, I’m being serious! There are ways to negate that.”
“Honey,” he murmurs, “I understand that. But it would be irresponsible of me to say yes. We can talk about it in the future, but—”
“I’m telling you it’s already dealt with. The chances of an accidental pregnancy are slim to none.”
The new information hangs in the air for a moment until Spencer speaks—to your surprise, his voice is low and humorous.
“That is… good to know. But even so—I’m setting a dangerous precedent if I always let you get exactly what you want.”
“Is it such a bad thing that I just wanna—I wanna know what it feels like? You don’t want that?”
“That’s not what I said. I want to know exactly what you feel like. I’m just hesitant to give in so quickly because it makes me look weak.”
You laugh breathlessly, caught between being turned on by the first part of his sentence and amused by the sarcastic second half. Your thighs clench and your hand absentmindedly wanders between them.
“You know what I was thinking about?” you ask. Spencer hums curiously. “I was thinking about when you let me, um… when you let me touch you how you touch me.” He hums again, but you can hear the amused curve of a smile in it now.
“When you had your mouth all full of me and you looked so pretty?”
“When I—yeah,” you agree, too caught up to deny his compliment as your fingers brush your most sensitive spot through clothing. “And how you got me all messy after. And I was wondering what it would feel like… inside me.”
He sucks in a breath. Your legs brush against each other and you twist slightly as you pretend like you’re not touching yourself just a little bit.
“You want me to come inside you?”
“Yeah,” you whisper, brain short-circuiting at the way those words sound in his voice.
—
On the other side of the line, Spencer isn’t doing a fantastic job of thinking clearly either. His dick is half-hard already and it’s only getting worse with each little noise you make that you don’t seem to realize you’re making.
“Really? That would be very messy, baby. I’m surprised that’s what you want.”
“But I really want it,” you breathe. He’s not even looking as he slips his hand under the waistband of his pajamas and palms himself, his other hand rubbing tiredly over his face as his phone rests on his chest. This was not how he intended for this call to go, believe it or not—but he’s here now.
“Yeah? Is that why you’re touching yourself right now?”
You go silent—which is more or less exactly the reaction Spencer had been expecting. Patiently he waits for you to deny it, in three, two—
“’M not.”
Now, he could explain how he knows that’s a lie. How your breathing pattern changed, and your voice got softer and airier, and how you started speaking with smaller words in fragmented sentences. But he doesn’t feel like explaining any of that.
“I know that’s not true,” he murmurs. “You know what? It wasn’t fair to get you all worked up last night and then leave. I don’t want you frustrated, honey. I want you to do whatever you need to do.”
You make a little gasping noise, and Spencer can imagine the way your back would arch when you did it. His own hips buck slightly as his dick twitches under his fingers.
“Where are you touching?”
“Um—over my clothes.”
Cute.
“Go under them for me. Tell me how it feels when you’re touching yourself like that.”
It takes a moment, in which all he hears is the rustling of fabric, until you’re whispering, “feels… it feels good. I wish you were here.”
He inhales, freeing his cock and squeezing the base.
“I know. Just listen to my voice, pretty. I’m right here.”
Spencer allows himself a few slow tugs as he imagines what’s happening in his bed. You make a squeaking noise, like a held-back moan, and his eyes screw shut.
“I need them inside,” you whine, and he knows you’re referring to his fingers—the ones currently stroking his own leaking cock.
“You can use your own, just give yourself a minute first. Remember what I said about needing to be ready?”
“I am ready��” judging by the surprised chirp you interrupt yourself with, you’ve proven yourself right. What surprises Spencer is the weak sound of disappointment you make next. “Spence, it doesn’t feel the same.”
“We’re different sizes, honey. Your hands aren’t as big as mine. But you can still make it feel good.”
He almost says, 90% of the nerves in the vaginal canal are located in the lower third—in other words, within approximately 2.36 inches from the opening, which you can most certainly reach—but he refrains. He’s not sure if that’s good dirty talk.
“You have a really sensitive spot about three inches up, right in front. It’s going to feel a little different than the rest of you when you touch it. I want you to try and find it for me, okay?”
“Okay,” you breathe, ever-eager to please even from a great distance. There’s a quiet moment. “I can’t—I don’t think I can r—oh,”
The moan is so pretty Spencer can’t help speeding up the motion of his hand, hissing slightly as his fingers brush against the angry tip with every pump.
“Did you find it?”
“Yeah,” you whine, a weak, high-pitched thing. “Oh my god.”
“Be gentle,” he warns with some effort as his own hips jump slightly. “You’re really sensitive there. If you’re not careful you’ll make yourself sore.”
“I don’t care—holy shit—” the way your voice rises and tightens to a squeak at the end has Spencer moaning as he fucks his fist. A black hole forms and warps time, turning every minute into a second and every second into an infinity until he has no idea how much time is going by. He drags his thumb over the tip, smearing precum over his cock and whining as his jaw drops at the feeling. “Oh my god, Spencer,” in that same strained, high voice. “’M gonna—ah!”
He gets the general sentiment.
“What, baby? You’re gonna make yourself come all over your fingers? Is that what you wanted to tell me?”
“Mhm!”
“Yeah, I bet you are. It feels good, huh?”
“Yes,” you cry.
“See? You don’t need my fingers to feel good. Mine barely fit, you know that? I have to hold your fucking hips down whenever I put my fingers in you because you can’t stop squirming. I don’t know how you think you’re going to take my cock.”
“Spencer!”
He knows.
“Come, baby. Let me hear you.”
The delicate sounds you make as you bring yourself to orgasm tip him over the edge of his own—grunting as he comes all over his fist.
“Jesus,” he strains under his breath, the word dragging out into two long syllables as his hips buck involuntarily and cum drips down his knuckles. He’s lightheaded and he’s created a mess and it all happened so quickly. “Fuck,” he breathes, a rasping chuckle as he reaches for the towel he’d dropped on the bed after his shower earlier. “You conscious over there?”
“I’m conscious,” you slur, breathing heavily. “I’ve never had an orgasm by myself before.”
“Are you proud of yourself?” Spencer smiles, wiping his hand off and making sure he’s otherwise clean. “You should be. I am.”
He’s barely kidding.
“I’ll be proud when I can do it without your help,” you tease.
“But I’ll always want to help you with that.” His already warm face flushes further as he goes over what he’d said. “Sorry I was so vulgar.”
You laugh. He blushes even more.
“Are you? I think you secretly love being vulgar.”
“I don’t know why! I have no idea where it comes from. I would never speak that way in any other context. I should probably work on that. Sometimes I look back on the things I say and I’m genuinely appalled.”
“Well, don’t stop on my account. Personally I enjoy it.”
“Yeah, I think I’m corrupting you. You probably shouldn’t enjoy it.”
The truth of it weighs heavy on his mind, but he’s pretty sure his voice alone doesn’t betray that and you can’t sense it through the phone.
“Oh, my god. Do not do that falling on your sword shit. I like being corrupted by you. If you stop I’ll be very upset.”
“Well god forbid you get upset,” he teases gently. Idly he wonders if the reason he’s suddenly feeling so depressed is because his cortisol levels were already high from the case, and then he jarred his system with an orgasm, spiking his dopamine and ultimately causing it to plummet without the oxytocin release that post-coital physical contact would usually provide.
Or if it was something else. It could also be something else.
For the millionth time, he wishes he was with you. Part of him also wants to go to sleep. But mostly he wishes he was with you.
—
A comfortable silence settles over the conversation. In the ditch between words, you’re mapping constellations in the texture of Spencer’s ceiling. If you squeeze your eyes almost shut, you can imagine it really is the night sky. You can imagine he’s really here.
You think about what he said—his apparently mindless vulgarity. Did it mean anything? Or was he just rambling to get you off?
“Spencer?” you murmur.
“Yeah?”
“Can I ask you a question?”
He sounds earnest, perhaps a little tired, as he replies, “always,” through the little metal rectangle on your chest. He likes me and my questions are important to him, you repeat to yourself silently as you work up the strength.
“If Penelope hadn’t called, last night… were you going to have sex with me?”
Your lip tastes like his toothpaste as you chew it. Spencer sucks in a breath of air like he’s about to speak—and lets it fizzles out like foam on a carbonated drink.
“I don’t know,” he finally admits, lamely. “That wasn’t my plan, but you can be extremely convincing when you want to be.”
“But why can’t it be your plan?” It’s an almost whine, pouty and childish—but the next words are quiet and pained. “Is it something I’m doing wrong?”
“No, no! It’s not you. You’re perfect. It’s—it’s complicated. It’s a me thing.”
Such trite words—such a ubiquitous, simple excuse sounds almost comical from his mouth when you know he’s capable of all the eloquence in the world. It’s not you, it’s me. It’s ridiculous.
“Okay. Let me simplify this for you,” you begin with an uncharacteristic assertiveness that surprises even you. “I want to have sex with you. Either we are going to have sex or we’re not. So your future branches in two diverging paths. In one, we have sex, and then we keep having sex. In the other we never have sex ever. If you want to ever have the privilege of fucking me, then we just have to do it. Otherwise it simply will never happen. And I’m not eternally patient, Reid.”
Go me, you think, slightly breathless from your monologue.
“Watch your mouth,” he says dryly. Something about the chastisement makes your stomach flip and your whole body tingle. “When you talk to me you call me Spencer. I will also accept Doctor Reid.” You wrestle down a smile, refusing to let him change the subject. A delayed sigh from him sobers up the conversation. “You know what I want. I’ve been very clear with you about that. But…”
“But…?”
Another sigh. A deeper, shuddering sigh, like his breath is searching for balance. Like Spencer is in a precarious position for which he was unprepared.
“But—but to be completely honest… I worry that you’ll regret choosing me. And I know virginity is a social construct and I’m not implying that your worth will somehow be diminished if we have sex but regardless of my views on virginity as a construct, having sex for the first time can be weird and scary and it’s incredibly intimate and I don’t want you to regret your first time like I regret mine because you chose the wrong person.”
The words come at you so rapid-fire it takes you a moment to process them. And aside from all the ways you want to reassure him that you will not regret choosing him—that you could never, ever regret anything about him—one thing stands out.
“You regret your first time?”
Something between a scoff and a sigh travels through the line. You can tell he’s not annoyed at you for asking so much as he’s flustered himself with all his own words as he occasionally does.
“Yeah. Yes. Sometimes I do. The person—she didn’t… like me as much as I liked her. And I was really, really in love with her, and she knew that and she knew she wasn’t in love with me—or maybe she was, I don’t know—but my point is, when one person likes the other more than the other person like them, things get complicated. And however you feel about me—that’s fine. It’s fine. I don’t want you to feel bad if we don’t feel exactly the same way about each other. I understand that this is newer for you, it’s different, I—I just don’t want us to do something we can’t undo because I don’t want to relive that. And I’m not saying it will never happen but I just don’t want you to make this choice when… when right now, I think we’re in different places emotionally. Regardless of that, I want you to choose the right person. I don’t want you to choose me and then find out that we feel differently after we sleep together and leave you feeling like you signed up for something you didn’t understand. I’m sorry. Maybe telling you this is selfish. But I’ve been thinking about it and trying to ignore it and I think I just have to be completely honest.”
Your ears ring like Spencer just fired a blank right into the microphone. Like you just got backhanded across the face and now you have the world’s worst case of whiplash.
Every finger is numb and your blood is so cold it feels blue as it slithers thick through your veins.
What you want to do is scream. What you want to do is go back to last night and stop yourself from almost telling him I love you, slap yourself and keep your cards a little closer to your chest. Because now he knows, and he doesn’t feel the same.
You want to scream bloody murder.
But when you try, when you unhinge your jaw and part your chapped lips and expect a bellow to come hurdling up the corridor of your throat with so much force it rattles your bones, all that falls out is a small, “oh.”
Maybe that’s worse.
Spencer doesn’t reply. You hate yourself for feeling obliged to fill the silence.
“I didn’t realize you…”
I didn’t realize that you don’t love me back.
I didn’t realize I like you more than you like me.
I didn’t realize you’d tell me to masturbate in your fucking bed and then drop this not even five minutes later.
If Spencer Reid was able to talk to you over the phone with the same amount of affection and familiarity as always, like everything was still okay, knowing you love him and he doesn’t love you the whole time, he is not who you thought he was.
“I’m sorry,” he lamely says again, like it could ever help.
More silence. Now you can’t bring yourself to speak, so Spencer does.
“I realize how awkward this is. I really didn’t mean to put you in this position. Especially not over the phone when I—god, I’m stupid. I’m sorry. But can we—can we talk about this in person when I get back? Please?”
Is that what grownups do? Is the proper etiquette for him to take you out to dinner and explain why he’s not in love with you? Is he going to break up with you?
What does one even wear to a breakup date?
“Okay,” you whisper. Your eyes sting, your everything stings, like you’ve been wrapped in a shroud of briar. Sheets that were soft a moment ago feel like sandpaper on open wounds. You feel like an open wound.
Spencer sighs. It’s a sound of relief that confuses and hurts you even more.
“Okay. I—okay. Thank you. Um—I’ll let you go back to sleep, now.”
“Okay,” you repeat—as if any of this were okay. But you can’t keep being that stupid girl who feels it all so much harder, who loves easily and begs to be loved in return, too naive to assume that someone who treats her so kindly might not reciprocate her feelings. It has to be okay, because if it’s not, you’re silly and dramatic and you’re just proving him right.
“Goodnight,” Spencer whispers, and you can’t help but feeling that it’s the last time you’ll ever hear those words from his mouth while you’re in his bed. And he’s not even fucking here.
So you pull the blanket a little higher. You let your tears stain his pillow because they’ll be invisible by the morning. It will be like they were never here. Like you were never here.
“Goodnight.”
#spencer reid#spencer reid fic#spencer reid smut#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x self insert#spencer reid angst#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x you#criminal minds#criminal minds smut#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds imagine#criminal minds fic
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to hell with it
pairing jung wooyoung x f!reader
word count 5k
genres angst﹒smut﹒teeniest bit of fluff here and there
warnings 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, mature language, all lowercase bc she was supposed to be short and vibey and… that just did not happen, mentions and use of weed, very strict parents, lowkey fuckboy wooyoung lol, lots of kissing, marking, scratching, wooyoung has a fascination with reader’s tits lol, nipple play, no real foreplay, unprotected sex, cowgirl and missionary style, dacryphilia, exhibitionism kinda, quite a few references to religious-ish themes, unrequited love in a sense? i got carried away im so sorry
summary you could draw several heaven-hell parallels from this moment in time, from the way wooyoung buries himself inside of you, and you always return to the idea that he’s straight from hell.
more ok… like i said… i got carried away oopsie 😝 this was a request from my lovely wife of 20+ years @juyofans <3 i’m sorry if i strayed too far from the original idea,,, it just happened ok 🙇 also a huge thank u to @bro-atz for betaing for me i LOVE U SO MUCH!! that’s all lets keep this note short and sweet :P reblog if u enjoyed!
@atzhouse
“shit.”
the curse slips from your mouth so naturally upon the discovery that your stash is completely finished. you rummage through the drawer one more time in case you might’ve missed something, but alas, you’ve run into the worst possible scenario. no more weed.
it’s not like you were dependent on it. but it was the end of a long week and it happened to be one of those days. an edible, a long rip from your bong, or a hit from a blunt wrapped with your pretty pink rolling paper sounded like fucking heaven right about now.
you still lived at home, though, and your parents had no clue that you dabbled with marijuana, so you had to keep everything hidden in your room. unfortunately, it was just too expensive to get your own place in this day and age. and despite the fear of getting caught deeply instilled in you, you were extremely desperate.
and well, desperate times called for desperate measures…
“hey, wooyoung…” you speak into the receiver.
your relationship with the guy was complicated. it had nothing to do with him, and everything to do with you. he’d been your plug for a couple years now, and his pretty face made it really hard not to develop a crush. every time you bought from him, you always tried to get a lot at once so you could space out how often you saw him to make things easier on your heart.
the two of you went to high school together, and the first time you reached out in regards to your secret habit was awkward. to say the least. all of your friends had purchased something from him at least once or twice, so they assured you that he was the real deal. but you had only ever mooched off of them and didn’t have the faintest idea what you were supposed to say or do. (what with having dictators for parents and the lot.)
you remember sending him a dm in the most cryptic way possible. he laughed it off, thinking about how cute it was that you didn’t know what you were getting yourself into. but, like every other occasion in which you’d spoken to him, he had a girlfriend at the time. the first time it was haeun, then there was jisu, and it was kind of hard to keep up with the names after that. his patience was endearing, though, and it always left you wanting more out of your conversations. (which is, understandably, what attracted you to the guy.)
he was definitely not a one-partner, commitment type of guy, and that’s all you could ever want out of someone. you thought keeping distance to halt any feelings from growing was the smartest decision. if you didn’t get close to him, it would help squash whatever flame burned beneath your chest.
but now it was time for that little crush to unearth itself, as it does whenever you see him.
“hey, y/n, what’s up?” you can hear the smile in his voice, the one that has your insides melting and your panties nearly dropping to the floor in an instant. it’s almost cocky, like he was expecting your call. and he probably was, all things considered.
“um…“ you stop yourself, squeezing your eyes shut and biting your lip, tilting your head back. “are you free to do a drop right now?”
the digital clock on your nightstand read 9:28 PM and your parents wouldn’t be home for another hour or so, having left for the movies a little over an hour ago. (that was the only reason why you were even thinking of pulling something as idiotic as this.)
not even were you just not allowed to have boys over. you weren’t allowed to have people over period, at least not if your parents were out. in spite of being a grown adult, they still managed to enforce strict rules and curfews on you. you were breaking so many by making this fucking phone call.
Do Not Think About Talking To Boys Under Our Roof.
“yeah, actually. i have to do another in the area so that works out perfectly. i can be there in ten.” he answers and that stupid smile pops into your head again.
Absolutely No Strangers Allowed In The House Without Us Present.
“okay cool— wait, you remember my address?” your brow scrunch together, the confusion boiling up inside of you. he snorts, some shifting audible in the background.
No Alcohol Unless We Are Present, Absolutely No Drugs Allowed.
“yeah? why wouldn’t i?” he asks so nonchalantly, you almost miss it. “i’ll be there soon, babe.”
he ends the call before you can even say anything, still holding your phone to your ear. your jaw hangs open and heat begins to bloom behind your cheeks. this was exactly why you were avoiding him as long as possible. jung wooyoung was a natural flirt, and you were very delusional.
this was fine, right? all you had to do was exchange the goods and money, then send him on his way. it would be like nothing ever happened, like no one was ever here. your parents would be none the wiser and you could finally relax. it would be just like when you were sneaking around in high school, having him drop when you didn’t have a car—
fuck.
you could’ve just met him somewhere instead, huh? you didn’t have the issue of being car-less anymore. you could’ve told your parents you were running out to grab some things from the store and hid it in your bags in case they were home before you. could’ve done literally anything else except act this irrational.
This Is An Honest and Trustworthy Household — No Lying Will Be Tolerated.
maybe, subconsciously, you’ve been wanting to see him in this setting again. there was a thrill in breaking your parents rules. you supposed something special, something exciting sparked under your skin all those times you snuck into the backyard to meet with wooyoung through the side gate. but right now, you’re pacing inside your bedroom. this wasn’t the time to get poetic and reminisce about being a schoolgirl with a crush.
you were bulldozing through just about everything on your parents’ list of Do Nots and you feel like you should be more anxious about it. for some reason you’re less afraid of pissing them off. you’re entirely too concerned with looking good for wooyoung, and you don’t even hear the shrill sound of your phone ringing.
wooyoung’s contact lights up the screen, sending all sorts of panic signals to your brain. you severely underestimated how long ten minutes was, and also how long you’d been standing in front of the mirror gawking at yourself like a damn fish out of water. this was embarrassing. you were better than this, god, you were so much better than to lose yourself like this over a man. but jung wooyoung somehow made all rhyme and reason escape you like he was some sexy version of the pied piper.
before you realize it, your feet have carried you down the stairs and to the front door. on the other side stand wooyoung, his backpack slung over his shoulder. he’s dressed in a red zip up hoodies and some baggy jeans. his hair is longer than when you last saw him, long enough to have some of the strands tucked loosely behind his ears. you think you’re entranced by his visuals alone, and then he opens his mouth.
”told ya i remembered.” his words drip with that charisma that sucks you in further, deeper, into the chasm you kept trying to avoid.
”uh— c-come in,” you usher him into your house and up the stairs into your room, just in case. “my parents aren’t home, but i don’t know if my neighbors are watching or something. and just in case they get back earlier, it’s easier to hide you in here than anywhere else.”
wooyoung nods with a snort, eyes wandering around the bedroom you’ve had since you were two years old. he’s never been inside of your house before, much less inside of your room. it’s very you; various posters littering the walls, makeup and skincare products cluttered around your vanity, comfy-looking sheets.
Definitely No Boys Allowed In Your Room.
“you know, y/n, i was pleasantly surprised when you called,” he shrugs off his bag, setting it on the foot of your bed, dragging his finger along the footboard. “i was starting to miss my favorite customer.”
just about everything but standing right here sounded ideal to you. if there were miraculously a sniper stationed on the roof of the house next to yours, you hoped you were in his line of sight and he would take you out. it was as if he knew. he knew exactly what his effect on you was, and that was absolutely perfect, now wasn’t it?
“your— huh?” you’re sure you sound stupid, especially so when he laughs, unzipping his backpack to take out what he was here for. the smell alone practically recalibrates your system and reboots you. wooyoung notices.
”we’ve never smoked together, have we?” he asks, pulling out the tube he was looking for. it’s about an eighth, which is less than what you usually buy from him, but you’re in no position to complain. you shake your head ‘no’ as he hands it to you, before pulling out another and doing the same thing. you raise an eyebrow at him.
”this is—“
”no, i know,” he purses his lips with a nod, tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth and swiping across the bottom one. “consider it a gift, for being so loyal to me all these years.”
you guffaw in disbelief. what the fuck?
”wooyoung, you can’t possibly—“
”just let me smoke you out this once. that’s all i ask in return,” he seats himself on the edge of your bed. “and we’ll even use my stuff. you can save yours for later. i’ll make it worth your while.”
you would be cutting it really close to the time your parents were supposed to be home. but he was so tempting. and you were so weak. so, so pitifully weak.
”okay…” you let yourself say. you let yourself divulge just this once. “but, remember—“
”yes yes, your parents. do you think this is my first rodeo?” he laughs, pulling out a little plastic baggie that appears to have pre-ground weed in it. almost like… he was anticipating this? when he reaches into his backpack for what you assume is wraps, you jump to grab your pink rolling paper. you’d been so excited to use it, you weren’t going to let this opportunity go to waste.
batting your lashes at him is the only way you know how to convince him, though it doesn’t really take much convincing. your rolling skills still weren’t the best, despite doing this as long as you have, so you watch in awe as wooyoung does it. his fingers move expertly, and you have to blink away the thoughts threatening to overthrow the sane ones that have been struggling to keep afloat.
wooyoung fishes for the lighter in his pocket, red like the color of his jacket. he lights the blunt and holds it carefully between his fingers. you think he’s going to take the first hit, but then he’s holding it to your lips, gesturing for you to do it. “ladies first.” he throws in with that obnoxiously attractive laugh of his. you hesitantly follow his lead, sitting beside him, then inhaling and filling your chest.
your exhale isn’t as graceful as you hoped it would be, a couple coughs coming out of you, but it was a strong hit. he rubs his free hand up and down your thigh to soothe you, hitting it himself. he’s definitely a lot more experienced than you, in what he does and how he does it, breathing it out into the atmosphere. your room is a little foggy now and you have half the mind to crack open a window, however, you’re hyper aware of his hand on your thigh. and you don’t want it to go away.
If Any Of These Rules Are Broken, You Risk Being Kicked Out.
it’s calm for a few minutes, just the two of you rotating the blunt in comforting silence, his hand still branding its place on your thigh. and then his thumb starts to move. it circles into your bare skin gently, kneading mindlessly. you almost let out a whine, but you catch yourself, concealing it as a cough instead.
“you like me, don’t you, y/n?” wooyoung asks, puffing out a thick white cloud and pouting. “that’s why you buy a lot from me at once. that’s why i sometimes only see you once a month.”
the question catches you so off guard, you almost grab the pink blunt by the spark. he sets it in your ashtray, conveniently placed on one of your bedposts. you stare at him blankly, because how fucking perceptive do you have to be to figure that out? your crush was probably a little more than obvious, sure, but the avoidant tendency you had couldn’t possibly be linked to that. not unless he truly knew you like the back of his hand.
he leans back onto his palms with a snicker, carding his fingers through his hair. the way he’s positioned allows you to glimpse at a bit more of his chest from the partially unzipped jacket. the only thing you see is that it’s bare, and your brain short circuits. it was already frying itself when he called you out, now there wasn’t a single functioning cell up there.
“i’m high like sixty percent of the time, i see everything. i know everything.” he answers your unspoken inquiry. and well, that may be true, but it’s not like you’re doing much to refute with the way you’re ogling at him. (you were a horny high, unfortunately.)
“what—“ you swallow, suddenly all too aware of how close you’re sitting, of how his grip on your thigh is a little more primal. “what if i said no? what then?”
“i’d think you were a liar,” he smiles, that fucking smile you can picture in your head even through a phone call. “and i don’t like being lied to.”
“so it’s a good thing i haven’t said no yet, right?” you breathe, voice entirely too stable for the situation. his hand rises higher on your thigh, the tip of his index finger brushing under your shorts. you glance down at it, eyes already heavy lidded as they observe the way it drags across your skin. fuck.
“mhm,” he hums, gauging your reaction to his touch. “it’s very good.”
you’re losing your patience the longer you sit there, tortured by wooyoung’s hand searing on your thigh. your heart seems to beat faster and you feel like you can tell with the rise and fall of your chest picking up in speed. his lips on yours is all that you want, all that you need, and under this spell (the intoxication swimming through your bloodstream), you’re willing to accept the consequences that may come with it.
a gasp escapes you when his nail scrapes along the side of your leg with the pressure of a feather. it’s overwhelming, to say the least. you want more and more and more, and then so much more until you can’t take it, but part of you is still insecure that he’ll leave you strung out on a clothesline if you indulge. you’re beyond thinking about the repercussions if you’re caught. you’re focused on the repercussions of being hurt if you give in.
but enough is enough.
placing your hand over his own, you slip it under your t-shirt where you’ve been braless this entire time. wooyoung’s eyes widen and you grab one of his hoodie strings, yanking him closer to you. your noses brush and your eyes meet, a silent ask for permission to finally play into what you’ve both been waiting for.
you don’t really give him a second to rethink it.
your lips connect in a rough, messy kiss that has you believing in the existence of a god. one that’s granted what you’ve been dreaming of for years. maybe after this you’ll start praying before bed again, especially if it always rewards you this well.
his mouth slots against yours like it’s the missing piece of a puzzle, your tongues tangling and your teeth nearly clashing. wooyoung’s hand on your chest regains its own control, squeezing your breast and flicking his thumb over a perked nipple. his other hand grips your waist, pulling you onto his lap. your knees dig into the mattress, hands cupping under his jaw and then entwining in his hair.
you sigh into his kiss, obsessed with this length on him. you’re sure he feels the same when he groans after you tug on it, deepening the kiss if possible. the sigh turns into a moan when he guides your hips into a circular motion, grinding you down on him to create a bit of friction and get the ball rolling.
he knows you don’t have a lot of time, maybe an hour tops, but fuck he wishes he could take his time with you. he wished he could explore your body and learn every single thing you liked and didn’t like, and use it all to his advantage. his senses are heightened so he’s keenly aware of your every sound, of each whine that escapes you.
wooyoung’s mouth travels from your own, along your jaw, and down your throat, nipping and sucking so he leaves his mark on you wherever he can. your lips part with a soft moan when he finds the sensitive spot on your neck. his hand is still in your shirt, kneading and massaging your tits like it was second nature for him.
your high has reached its peak, and you’re starting to get light headed from how good everything feels. if he didn’t touch you where you needed him most soon, you feared you might finish prematurely, and after all that you’ve been through to get to this point, you really cannot handle that tonight. thankfully, he seems to read your mind.
“i would love to make up for lost time, but i don’t think we can right now,” he pants into your skin, hands everywhere but somehow nowhere all at once. “let me just—“
“stop yapping and just fuck me, wooyoung, you’re wasting precious time,” you groan, going straight for the zipper of his jacket. you push the red material off of his shoulders in one go, practically pawing at the button of his jeans. he laughs at your impatience, but knows you’re right.
“well, when you put it like that, i don’t feel bad for the disgusting things i wanna do to you,” he teases, helping you pull your shirt over your head. “gonna fuck you so good, you’re gonna wanna see me more than once a month.”
the call out is crazy, but you don’t have the mental capacity to argue with him, head tossing back when he takes one of your tits into his mouth. you scrape your nails down the expanse of his chest and abdomen, a reprieve to the static buzzing throughout your body with wooyoung’s lips all over you. his teeth sink into your collarbone and you nearly lose your sanity. this was it, there was no going back now that you’ve fallen under his spell.
his skilled fingers make quick work removing your shorts and you’re so beyond restless, that he has a bit of trouble getting them down your legs. he stills your hips firmly, practically scolding you when he says, “sit still, pretty, i’m not going anywhere.”
it’s a weird reaffirmation, and in a way it calms your erratic mind. you finally let go of those reservations and allow yourself to submit to these feelings you’ve harbored for years. the heat of wooyoung beneath you is enough to make you squirm again, needing him inside of you before you start crying. (though judging by what he’s said so far, you think he’d like that.)
“god, i need you so bad,” you whine, lips locking with his once more. you speak the words into his mouth and they hold all the subtlety of an excavator, desperation hanging off of each syllable. “please…”
you can feel, rather than see, the conniving smile that graces his features, fingers hooking into the waistband of your panties. he’s dangling your desire in front of you like a ball of yarn with a cat, the bed of his nails dragging along your hips slowly and tortuously. you reach down to cup his erection through his boxers and that’s what spurs him on, dropping his mischievous act in favor of gifting you what you’ve been asking for so nicely.
wooyoung pushes your underwear to the side, kicking off his boxers so he’s bare for you. part of you is way more excited than you should be to fuck him raw, for the first time nonetheless. he leans back slightly and watches as you hover over his cock, sitting on it gently. he’s definitely on the longer side, longer than the other guys you’ve been with— not that there were very many to compare him to. he fills you up just right, tapping that sweet crook of your pussy when he sheathes entirely.
the moan that breaches the sound barrier fights itself from deep in your chest, tickling his ears and forcing out one of his own. his grip on your hips tightens as you begin to move. it’s more of him moving your body for you, not that you’re complaining at all. less work for you.
with each bounce on his cock, your bed squeaks and it wouldn’t be such a problem if you didn’t also hear the front door open downstairs. your eyes widen almost comically, meeting wooyoung’s with a fear so intense that it nearly scares him too. gratefully, he’s been in this situation before. he holds a finger up to his lips to shush you, simultaneously flipping the two of you so your back is flat on the bed and his feet are planted on the floor.
you’re glad you had the clear mind to lock your door when you came up to your room. you don’t know if it’s because it’s wooyoung, or maybe you’re just into it, but you feel yourself getting more turned on as he continues to fuck you despite your parents being home. he covers your mouth with his hand, rocking his hips into yours with a purpose. his free hand slithers between the two of you, thumb rubbing calculated circles into your clit.
”take it,” he rasps into your ear, nipping the lobe softly; a contrast to what’s tumbling out of his mouth. “take it like the good girl you are.”
at that same moment, there’s a knock on your bedroom door. wooyoung doesn’t stop, in fact, he speeds up his pace, pushing your thigh to your chest so he plunges deeper into your cunt. he’s evil, pure evil.
”y/n, are you in there?” your mother asks.
”y-yes,” you gasp, willing your voice to stay steady. “i was getting ready to go to s-sleep.”
“you sound off… are you feeling okay?” she expresses her concern and you look to wooyoung for help.
you bite down harshly on your lower lip when he leans down to suck on one of your tits instead, still very roughly snapping into you. he urges you to say something anyway, so you can at least get them to leave you alone. “y-yes! i’m fine! i was just looking f-for my pajamas!”
he laughs lowly so only you can hear, gazing at you through his lashes and whispering, “should we tell her they’re on your floor?”
your mother doesn’t question you any further. ”okay… goodnight, sweetheart.”
”goodnight!”
her footsteps get quieter as she walks away from your door. the shit-eating grin on wooyoung’s face contributes to the growing ache in the pit of your stomach more than it pisses you off. unfortunately he just had that effect on you. it was hard to be mad at him when he made you feel like you were lit ablaze, fire burning all the way to the tips of your fingers.
“look at you, sweetheart,” you hate that the pet name has you clenching around his length. his lips trail down your body, worshiping it like you were his own personal goddess. “you’re taking my cock so perfectly.”
if you could scream, you would. you’d be as loud as possible so your whole block knew who was fucking you this good. you’d chant his name like a prayer, which was ironic considering he was, in a sense, more like an incubus. you could draw several heaven-hell parallels from this moment in time, from the way wooyoung buries himself inside of you, and you always return to the idea that he’s straight from hell. the way he lures you in, like the serpent with eve in the garden of eden. he has you turning your back on all forms of reason.
but this inebriation, this sweet poison coursing through your bloodstream as applies practiced pressure to your clit, has your whole being soaring. you could care less about the trouble that comes with it, especially when it has your back arching off of your mattress and into his chest.
your lips pry open in a silent moan when he presses up against that same spongy nook in your pussy. tears well in your eyes as they roll back, spilling down the sides of your cheeks. wooyoung kisses them away and fucks into you harder, inching closer and closer towards what you’re already on the precipice of.
having gone nonverbal after nearly getting caught, it requires so much energy for you to croak out, “‘m so close, woo, so so close…”
he hums approvingly, back at your mouth now. his lips mold with yours so smoothly and your fingers tangle in his hair so easily. you want this forever, to be his in more ways than one. but after tonight, you don’t know how likely that is to happen, and you’ll let yourself be satiated by this one time.
you’re lost in the sensation of his kiss, disappearing in the feeling of his dick sliding in and out of your cunt without restriction. and maybe this would’ve been so different had you not been high. maybe this wouldn’t have happened at all had you been sober. your vision is hazy and your head is clouded, but you’ve never felt so liberated.
wooyoung grazes his nose against yours, a stark contrast in the behavior he’s exhibited tonight. even as he does so, his lower half is still pounding into you without mercy. and for some reason, that tenderness is what has you slipping through the cracks. your orgasm washes over you with no warning, crashing and colliding into your being almost violently.
the fluttering of your walls around his cock has wooyoung finishing right behind you, lashes skimming the tops of your cheeks in butterfly kisses that prolong the climax of your release. it’s much more intimate than you expected, your heart swelling and your body shivering with its implications. he slows his pace to something steady, something that just metaphorically holds your hand through your orgasm.
as you recover from the weight of it all, you realize that you’re still crying. wooyoung attempts to swipe away your tears with his thumbs, but when he notices that they aren’t stopping, his eyebrows knit together in confusion. he slides out of you and back into his boxers, scouring your bedroom floor for your t-shirt. he sits you up gently and cups your jaw in his hand.
“what’s wrong?” he asks, uncharacteristically serious. you’re used to him being playful and joking about everything, so for him to show genuine concern about your emotions means a lot. a lot.
“i’m okay— i’m fine, i’m just being weird.” you dismiss his worries though, since it’s true. he doesn’t owe you anything and you don’t want to guilt him into anything just because your crush is a little heavier than the schoolgirl crush he’s made it out to be. he shakes his head. he’s not having any of that.
”no, you’re upset about something. don’t water yourself down like that.” you don’t like that this is fueling your delusions, don’t like that you want him so much more than you thought you could. and maybe you could’ve stopped yourself, had you not looked at him. your gaze traces from the beauty mark under his eye to the way his hair frames his face.
“i want something i can’t have,” is what you settle on, swallowing down that bitter pill that you’ve been avoiding tonight. “and i think i’m finally coming to terms with it.”
wooyoung searches your expression for thicker substance, as if that will hint towards a clearer answer than what you’ve given him. he finds it in that painfully sad smile of yours. he finds it in the heartache swirling in the pools of your irises. you know he didn’t mean to lead you on. it’s not his fault, really. you understood what you were getting yourself into. none of the blame can be placed in his hold, because it doesn’t belong to him.
”i should go,” he says after a long stretch of silence. “before either of us get into any trouble.”
you watch as he dresses himself quickly and exits through the window, taking your heart along with him. but it would be okay. you wouldn’t have to see him for another month anyways.
at least, that’s what you tell yourself as you reignite the blunt sitting in your ashtray.
© yunhoszn. do not steal, claim, or repost.
#atzhouse#ateez#ateez x reader#ateez smut#ateez wooyoung#ateez jung wooyoung#jung wooyoung#jung wooyoung x reader#jung wooyoung smut#wooyoung x reader#wooyoung smut#yunhoszn
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type
relationship: poly satosugu x reader
desc: clearly satoru has a type + bed time
wrd cnt: 3.3k
warnings: the reader is so fucking specific . like theyre chubby, brown, have glasses, dark hair, n dark eyes. sorry 2 anyone who isnt that HJSJDHSJ, gn reader, fluff
a(shley's)/n: first post whoopie !! also . chubby sugubooboo REALNESS !!!!!!! visit sometime is being worked on PROMISEEE its at 12k words rn n its only the first chapter [im planning on writing the rest of the chapters b4 publishing bcuz i feel bad abandoning things so its probs gonna b over 300k by the time im done w the whole thing . sigh.] ok. enjoy . [also u can tell whos my favorite]
the tiny couch the three of you crammed onto every evening felt incredibly warm. it did every day.
suguru was on the farthest left (when you’re sitting on the couch and facing the tv in front of it), laying back on the couch with a pillow underneath his head. satoru was on the farthest right, using the armrest as a prop for his head and playing on his nintendo switch. you were leaning back on suguru’s stomach, on your phone.
gurgle! grrk!
“your stomach’s talking shit about you, suguru.” you warned, scrolling through the comments on a post.
“what’s it saying?” he asked offhandedly, turning a page.
“‘s gonna kill you man.”
“crazy…” he trailed off and you noticed his reading glasses slipping down his nose slowly.
you pulled yourself up his body and pushed them up with your pointer finger, then laid a kiss against the apple of his cheek.
suguru looked down at you, dark brown eyes so clear you could see yourself reflected in them almost. he put a pretty bookmark with a nice yellow tassel between the pages and set it on the side table.
“now what do you from me? hm?” he drew you fully to his chest where he started to nip at your cheeks and jaw. giggle “kisses sugu! gimme kisses!” you exclaimed as he started to lay light kisses from the tippy top of your head down to your collarbone. everywhere his lips touched made little sparks fly under your skin, love flooding through every vein in your body at suguru’s affection.
you kept giggling with suguru, returning his little kisses, straddling his thighs, and wrapping your arms around his shoulders.
“ewww!” satoru suddenly interjected. looking behind you, your third was sticking his tongue out and powering his switch off, “get a room,” he said and tried to crawl between you and suguru.
“what are you- ack!” satoru nestled himself sideways in the little pocket of space between and was already half hanging off the couch. suguru got elbowed a bit.
you pulled back and sat on your haunches to let satoru get comfortable, “everything good?” you asked, waiting for him to finish wriggling around, “it’d be better if you could get down here…” he asked and gazed at you over his shoulder coquettishly. the look made your stomach suddenly combust into a horde of butterflies that expressed themselves through possessing your body and draping yourself over your two lovers.
satoru got a kiss on the little circle at the top of his head where his hair grew from and a bit of scalp shone through, “better?” quietly suguru mumbled into the air.
“mhm…” was satoru’s response.
you shifted around to get satoru and suguru in your sights at the same time, enraptured with the beauty of your lovers. if you lost the ability to see them everyday, you think you’d sob inconsolably.
eventually, you shoved yourself into the space between suguru and the back cushions, finding the best view.
suguru had slid further down the couch, fully using the arm rest as a pillow with eyes closed and glasses firmly placed at eye level. satoru faced the tv, eyes closed as well, and was clutching suguru’s arm wrapped around him.
and then you.
you glanced up to see a vague shape of your body reflected in the dark tv screen, a part of a blob of skin and other various hues. the final piece to the puzzle.
as you settled into the warmth of suguru’s chest (his arm went around you straight away, no looking) and wrapped your arm around satoru’s shoulder (he grabbed it and tucked it close to his chest), you faintly realized something.
“you have a type satoru,” you said quietly.
out of the corner of your eye you saw suguru’s eye peek open.
“no i don’t?” he rolled in place to face you, hot breath fanning over your exposed arm.
“yeah you do.” this time you were looking directly into his eyes, challenging his denial.
“oh yeah? what’s my type?” satoru fired back, cocky sounding.
“dark hair, dark eyes, glasses, brown skin, chubby, and a little mean to you.” that seemed to shut him up, suguru’s eyes fully open and filled with mirth.
“...dunno what you’re talking ‘bout…” satoru pouted at being found out so quickly.
“think about it! i have dark hair, suguru has dark hair. suguru has dark eyes, i have dark eyes. we both wear glasses-”
“not all the time!” at satoru’s interjection, you and suguru shared a look and went back down to him.
“...nevermind. continue.”
“we’re both brown and chubby-” as you said this, you moved satoru’s hands up to yours and your dark haired lovers stomachs, making him squeeze them a bit. satoru blushed.
“and we’re mean to you! it’s like me and sugu are the same people, it’s crazy.” you finished and looked up at suguru for approval on your insight.
“they’re not wrong,” he added, “and we’re dating each other, so it’s like how people are attracted to similar personalities.”
satoru shook himself out of the brief pull you and suguru had on him, “then what does that say about you two for dating me?” he asked genuinely.
“hmm…” you held your chin, submerging into deep thought.
“oh! we like annoying guys like you!” suguru replied for the two of you.
“yeah!”
now satoru really was pouting.
“but we love you for it ‘toru! its cute!” you amended, pulling his face towards you so you could pepper him with kisses.
suguru joined in and wrapped his arms around the two of you, giving satoru kisses all over his head.
“haha! okay, okay!” satoru’s face was tinged pink all the way up to his scalp and his smile stretched wide. you think his eyes were glowing twice as much, filled to the brim with emotion.
“getting shy?” suguru mumbled coyly into his ear. satoru looked away bashfully and his face turned five shades deeper, “no…”
you planted a wet kiss right on his burning cheek mwah!, “cutie…now go turn the tv on,” you said with a snicker as the red slowly faded from satoru’s face.
“really?” he grumbled, but got up anyway to turn the tv on and grab the remote.
“thank youuu!” you cooed when satoru came back and rewarded his efforts with a kiss right at the junction between his neck and jaw.
he just mumbled something and cuddled back into you and suguru. the top of his head was a bit red.
“what do you wanna watch?” you asked.
“i demand...netflix!” satoru exclaimed and raised the remote high above his head.
at the same time, you and suguru spoke, “alright.” satoru looked back, “jeez maybe you two are the same person…”
you brushed the comment off and urged him to pick something to watch. satoru chose a k-drama series he was halfway through and started from the beginning, “just for you two! no one else,” he said and put the remote on the side table.
*
an hour or two later, the three of you reached the point satoru had gotten to. or rather the two of you, as satoru had fallen asleep after the first episode and was snoring into suguru’s hockey jersey sleeve.
suguru had his head turned and was just staring at the screen, a bit bored looking.
you had both your hands buried under his jersey, absentmindedly kneading at the pudge lining his midsection and brushing his happy trail back and forth, “ready to sleep?” the question was gently whispered by you, taking care not to wake satoru.
“yeah,” suguru said, moving the hand that was caressing your back to the back of your head and kissed your crown. he turned around to reach the remote, but you stopped him.
“wait! wait!” you protested quietly, “i can get it.” suguru gave you a skeptical look, “okay…”
and then you fully shoved yourself under his oversized st. louis blues jersey.
“wh- hey!” he patted your back, trying to track your wriggling body. you shoved your arm through the neck hole and scrambled for the remote behind suguru’s head.
once you finally got a hold on the plastic device, you pointed it at the tv, “can you pause it and turn the tv off?”
sigh “you know? i don’t think you and i are alike at all.” his hand engulfed yours and clicked around a bit before the remote was slipped away from your hand.
“you’re so warm sugu…” you slurred, the warmth and lack of sleep getting to you.
underneath suguru’s jersey, you were surrounded on all sides by warmth.
above you was the white of his jersey, underneath you was his warm and fuzzy torso, and radiating all around you was warmth. you snuggled into the artificial embrace, kicking your legs underneath his.
then suguru suddenly yanked the top of his jersey above your head.
then cold flooded straight into your bones. you expressed this with a shiver and tightening your fetal position on suguru’s midsection.
“c’mon. up.” he urged you up and off the couch, slinging satoru over a broad shoulder.
“you can cuddle when we’re in bed, alright?” he held your face in the palm of his very big hand and tilted his head to the side a bit, “yeah,” you said, a bit spacey at the thought of being cuddled up to one of the men of your dreams (you get to paw and chew at him like a dog every night, but that didn’t mean it felt like a bit of a privilege to haul suguru around in bed like that).
he kissed your head, “good.” and trodded off to the bedroom with his two lovers in tow, of course.
suguru laid satoru on the bed first and caressed the side of his face with the back of his hand. the love that suguru exercised for you and satoru shocked you to your core sometimes. it was easy to forget the gentle touches amidst all the roughhousing shared between the three of you.
after he leaned down and laid a featherlight kiss between satoru’s eyes, he looked up at you.
“ready?”
without waiting for a response, he glided to the bathroom. assured in your ability to follow.
a quick pit stop was made before you joined suguru in the bathroom. you hovered over satoru’s slumbering body, clad in an oversized band tee acquired the summer before and basketball shorts from suguru (maybe. possibly. it’s gotten hard to tell over the years). he looked beautiful with the moonlight flooding through the huge window next to the bed.
with the same gentleness suguru possessed, light fingers skimmed across his forehead and drew his hair away from his eyes. you planted a big wet kiss right at the center of his temples.
that stirred him awake.
“mngh…” his eyes fluttered open, but eventually decided to close.
“go back to sleep for me baby, ‘kay?” you whispered into his ear, already holding the top of the thirty pound weighted blanket satoru slept with every night.
once satoru settled down again, you tiptoed to the bathroom, light already on underneath the door.
“hi,” you said at a volume less than normal.
suguru had his jersey sleeves rolled up and was applying face cream when you walked in, “hey.” he matched your sound, gave you a kiss on the cheek, and went back to making sure all of the product reached every nook and cranny of his face.
you slithered behind him and wrapped your arms around his cinched waist. you squeezed a little, making suguru wheeze a bit unexpectedly, an inside joke from before any romance entered your lives.
then your hands dipped above the hem of his jersey, still craving body heat.
“if you tickle me, i’ll punch you.” he warned, looking back at you over his shoulder.
if you were to be on the receiving end of any of suguru’s attacks while he does martial arts training, you think you’d ascend to something higher than heaven.
you didn’t say that though. all you did was look up at him dopily and smile, “okay.”
he looked at you suspiciously and went back to finishing his nightly routine. maybe you should start on your own as well. but what kept you from pulling away wasn’t the wonderful texture of suguru’s body, no, it was him expanding and deflating his chest in a timely manner.
he was breathing. and you were right there feeling that.
this was real. the fact you got to wake up everyday, be with your two lovers, come home to a warm couch, and hold the people you love like this all the time made you feel like puking. in a good way.
suguru was completely oblivious to the lovey-dovey thoughts circling your head. he had moved on to dental care and was currently on the last step, scraping his tongue.
you watched him through the mirror, sighing and swooning over every little action he made. the way he flexed a bit when he pressed the metal scraper on the back of his tongue, the way nails covered in flaking black polish pried the storage for the scraper open, the way he reapplied pomegranate chapstick, the way he turned to you with a look he only reserves for you and satoru, the way his mouth moved-
wait. he was talking?
you snapped yourself out of your stupor and tuned back into the conversation.
“-and then we can sleep, don’t want to keep satoru waiting.”
yeah you have no clue what he’s talking about.
you tilted your head, a little smile teasing your lips, “what’d you say?”
suguru’s face fell into a deadpan, the reading glasses he still had on emphasized his disappointment.
“you’re such a bad listener, you know that right?” he grabbed his bottle of amla hair oil (almost empty, you’d need to stop by the international grocery store to get more soon) and placed it on the counter.
“i just need you to oil my hair for me, it’s been getting a little dry.” a simple request you’ve fulfilled many times before.
you don’t think suguru needed a verbal response with the way you pulled out the shower stool stored under the sink and patted the seat, urging him to take a seat.
he took a seat and tugged the hair tie holding his half bun in place. a bad habit suguru has is leaving his hair ties anywhere and everywhere, today was no exception.
suguru flicked the scrunchie away somewhere in the bathroom and let his lovely tresses fall down his back.
one of you would get that. later.
for now, you wanted to focus on suguru’s dying and unhydrated hair (it wasn’t that bad, just felt a little rough in your hands is all).
the motion of pouring oil onto your hands, rubbing them together, then starting at the roots was a well practiced routine. oftentimes, you and satoru would tackle suguru’s full head of hair at the same time to split the workload and provide the man with a relieving head massage.
unfortunately, satoru’s incapacitated state on the bed meant he couldn’t help out this time. whatever. you’d get all the kisses and cuddles from suguru as a reward later.
you finally started to get to the ends of his hair, a particularly dried section.
“careful with the oil, don’t want it to stain my shirt.” he says that every time.
and you were careful. every time.
suguru’s hair was freshly oiled and you dried your hands with a hand towel hanging on the towel rack while your boyfriend pulled on his long satin bonnet. he started to walk out of the bathroom before you remembered something, “!”
he turned around at the doorway, “what?”
“i forgot to do my own routine,” you said, turning to the vanity and picking out what you needed for the night.
“i can wait.” suguru closed the door and slumped onto the toilet seat cover.
“you don’t have to-”
“i’m staying.” he leaned back, crossed his arms, and closed his eyes.
you just rolled your eyes and started your night routine.
the silence between the two of you was nice. all that filled the quiet was the low hum of the bathroom fan. (you missed the way suguru was eyeing you with hooded eyes and a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. he really loves you.)
by the time you finished, suguru had gone back to his stationary position with his eyes closed. you admired him and then leaned down to nuzzle your head against the crown of his head, his eyes opened pretty fast after that.
you laid a sweet kiss right against his lips, the fruity taste from his chapstick transferring to your own. then to tease him, you licked a little stripe up the center of his lips, coating his ashley piercing in spit.
“blegh! don’t do that!” and he smacked you away as you giggled.
suguru stood up and started to walk ahead of you, “i think the lack of sleep is getting to your head…”
“whatever.” you turned the bathroom light off and closed the door behind you.
you threw yourself onto the bed and writhed in place a bit, trying to find the best sleeping position. on the contrary, suguru sat on the bed, swung his legs around, and tucked himself under the edge of the blanket pretty fast.
eventually, you found a good position. your back was to suguru’s front and you were curled facing satoru’s sleeping front. this was what you settled on every night.
but despite how tired you were, something in you still made you want to twist and turn in place like a worm. just to get all the energy out.
behind you, suguru was setting the digital alarm clock on the nightstand for some ungodly time in the morning (so he can get his workout routine out of the way). you found your perfect victim.
you pounced on suguru as softly as you could (once he turned around of course, you’d feel bad if he fell off the bed) and smothered him in kisses.
“hi, hey, what’s up?” he sounded like he was trying not to giggle and laugh too loudly, for fear of waking up satoru.
“i dunno.” you teased and peppered featherlight kisses from the bottom of his frames down to his little double chin, giving him a big kiss where it dipped down the most. (a little freckle was right next to it. your eyes hadn’t adjusted to the darkness yet, but you knew it was there.)
suguru returned your affections with kisses on your cheeks that pushed so far you could feel the pressure on your tongue. you snickered bashfully and kicked your legs a little.
after that, all the fight and energy left you in favor of fatigue slipping into the cracks. you flopped beside suguru and gave him a final kiss on his right temple, “love you.” you whispered.
he turned your body around so you were back on your side and facing satoru. “love you back.” suguru whispered and kissed the back of your head.
you missed your third dearly. so in tandem, you and suguru reached out to pull satoru into your combined warmth.
at the same time, you and suguru each gave him a kiss at random points on his head, whispering the same thing, “love you so much.”
satoru woke up at the combined affection. just enough to finish the final step before sleep could claim you. he leaned forward enough to brush his lips against your nose, “love you baby.” then he reached as far as he could and kissed suguru’s neck, “love you su.” and he collapsed in front of you, back to sleep.
suguru shifted behind you, something clacking around on the side table. he put his fingers around the bridge of your glasses and folded them carefully. they clacked next to his.
your eyes closed as a big warm arm laid across your waist and extended outwards to the body in front of you.
#meshiinuma#satoru gojo x reader#gojo satoru x reader#getou suguru x reader#suguru getou x reader#satoru gojou x reader#gojou satoru x reader#x reader#fanfiction#fanfic#self insert#fluff#getou suguru#gojou satoru#geto suguru#gojo satoru#jjk#jjk x reader#jjk men x reader#jjk fanfiction#suguru x reader#satoru x reader#gojo x reader#geto x reader#getou x reader#gojou x reader#satosugu x reader#satoru gojo x reader x suguru geto#if uve read this far . why.#also haiiiii ^_^)/ !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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Tasty (S) (A)
Cw:basketball player!winwin x bádminton player!reader,oral sex,slightly rough sex mainly soft,lots of I love u’s,Small argument,makeup sex,lovey-dovey shit,back scratching,kick back era sicheng 😵💫
Based off this from twt/X :link (NSFW)
A/N: yum yum (im abt to write an nct 127 angst fic after this)
WC: 800-ish
The start to your day was already shit but if badminton practice wasn’t worse you wouldn’t know what was your coach yelled at you for being a minute late and also missing multiple times as you got back home you dropped your practice bag and flopped down on the couch in your shared apartment with your boyfriend Sicheng, he currently wasn’t home since he had basketball practice until 7 so you texted him and dropped your phone down on the couch.As you now just lay there you being to tear up trying to cry but that was a futile attempt as you started to heave tears fall down your face but you quickly wiped your tears hearing the door unlock you see sicheng enter clearly distraught and angry as you bid your hellos to him he ignores you and walks off to the room slamming the door and locking it.You get up and walk to the room door to ask if hes okay as you do all you hear him say from the other side is a annoyed “go away” as you walk back to the living room you sit there sad knowing your one source of comfort is upset but you surpass this and grab the remote to turn on the tv you flip through numerous channels as sicheng exits the room with new clothes dawning a white T-shirt and basketball shorts he glances at you still pretty upset and looks back at the tv ypu turn to him and say hi again but he continues to ignore you and all you say is “Why are you ignoring me?” And that only seemed to make him more angry he looked to you absolutely livid only saying “Just shut the fuck up” as you paused you say “I just asked why you upset I wasn’t trying to make you mad” sounding sadder then ever “Well you did,great now im in an even worse mood” he says with such annoyance and distain in his voice you look away from him and down at the floor you feel yourself tear up again trying to hide your tears from him in hopes that he wont get more upset you curl up on the couch.you glance over at him again now he looks somewhat more calm but as if he feels bad for what he said to you.you wipe your tears but they still fall as you sniffle letting out a small sob,He looks at you turning his neck fast and he quickly cups you cheek in his hand looking at you sorrily “No baby im sorry I didn’t mean to get mad at you like that” no completely sobbing and covering your eyes in your palms wiping off your eyes you look back at him eyes slightly red as you shakily say “no its my fault I shouldn’t have pressed you like that” as he quiets you he softly smiles asking about why your sad and you explain everything to him he kisses your cheek and holds you telling you its okay and he ask if there is anything he can do to make up to you and you hesitantly say you want him as he quickly understands what you mean he lifts you up from the couch and carries you to the room he plops you on the bed and starts to kiss you asks if its okay.
to remove your skort and you nod as you remove your shirt leave you only in your underwear and bra as get up to remove those two articles of clothing he begins to remove his cloths as both of you are now naked he lifts up for legs and holds them back as he faces your cunt he licks your clit you whine in pleasure he continues to eat you out for a couple of minutes you start to moan in upmost pleasure you begin to spew out praise “Fuck chengie im gonna cum” as he lifts his face from your cunt you whine at the loss of stimulation sicheng get up from his position on the bed and drags to the end of the bed as he places your legs around his waist,you wrap your arms around his neck he lifts you up from the bed and inserts his cock into your cunt as he bounces you on his cock hard and fast until you tell him to slow down a little.
and he listens to you as he thrusts into you lovingly you began to scratch his back with your nails due to the pleasure it makes you feel warm inside as you start to random say “I love you” in between moans as he continued to thrust up into your for a few minutes all he could say was “I love you” “your made for me” “your the best thing that could happen to me” “ your my love” “I love you babe” as you moaned in pleasure
As his thrust became sloppy,he cums inside of you filling you up with his cum
As you thank him for pleasing you he replies with “Anything for you baby”
As both of you came at the same sichengs thrust became sloppy as he came to a stop. You both breathe heavily as you drop down to the bed with sichengs cock still inside of you he leaned down to kiss you again.
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Mercury your event is SO cute I’m actually obsessed! I’m such a beer girlie, but if I had to pick a drink it’s gotta be a jägerbomb! And for the character you pick because I want you to be as free as possible I’m ready for anything👀
ehehehe i was a lil cheeky with this one, i leaned more into the leave you wanting more vibe with the jagerbomb also im sorry for the lack of beer i've never met a beer or cider i've liked LMAO
i was going to make this endeavor but the more i wrote it the more it worked better with bakugou but i hope u like it!! teehee
birthday bash intro + rules + menu | event masterlist
anyone who wasn’t a couple jagerbombs deep could tell you how bad of an idea jagerbombs are at an work party, but when you work at one of the most popular bars in musutafu, it’s more a rite of passage.
not even here a year, your work-best friend was the very first to inform you of the notorious annual work party, how messy they get, how she’d gone home with the chef one year, and how many servers had crashed in the booths over the years. finally, the time had come for the party, your friend already abandoning you to flirt with the chef again, although, you couldn’t play the morally high act about it when all your attention was on your boss behind the counter.
walking behind the bar, you perused the liquor on offer, mostly mid-tier stuff, but god, did the imported stuff look good right about now, something smooth to take your mind off of him. fuck, why’d he have to roll his sleeves up like that? his forearm muscles enough to make you wonder what else lies beneath that damn shirt, an endless expanse of muscles underneath a wife-pleaser singlet, thick thighs caged in his expensive slacks.
“need some help?” lost in your daydream, bakugou is beside you before you realise how long you’ve been ogling him, your indecisive daze in front of the alcohol drawing his attention (any excuse to talk to you, really). you’re nowhere near drunk enough for him to be this close, to get this messy. yet.
“you don’t have my beer on tap.” his eyes nearly roll back at your sweet tone, your gentle teasing that’s been driving him up the wall for months. he stays steadfast, dark garnet eyes unwavering, despite the top you’d worn specifically for them to wander.
“let me make it up to you,” he takes another step closer, the expensive scent of his cologne filling your lungs when he reaches around you for the distinct green bottle, trapping you between his biceps for a fleeting moment, “we’ll do something i used to have in my party days.”
grabbing two pint glasses and two shot glasses, you watch him work with the kind of swiftness and expertise decades behind a bar could give a man, every twist of his wrist calculates, not a single drop of jagermeister or redbull spilling, even when the latter threatened to bubble over the top of the glass.
“you used to do jagerbombs?” you can’t help but sound incredulous, your eyebrows shooting up to your hairline when you accept the drink from him. mesmerised as he pours his own, you try to imagine him younger, chugging back the bomb, swallowing shot after shot, stumbling home in the am. even in your daydream, his hair had speckles of salt through the blond of his hair, the silver fox look worked too well for him to see him any other way.
“why are you so shocked? i was twenty once.”
“it’s hard to imagine you… like that.”
“like what?”
“you know, a party animal, i can only see you drinking bourbon on the rocks.” he chuckles at the memories, of sleepless nights, of horrendous hangovers.
“i could still drink you under the table.” he challenges, already reaching to pour another, you try not to laugh in his face, the image of your all-powerful boss drunk and stumbling was something you’d pay to see. with a smile you could only describe as evil, hot, you clinked your drink with his before knocking it back, “sure you can, old man.”
after too many bombs, an assortment of other shots, some cocktail bakugou poured you and a sip (you weren’t game enough to have more of it, there’s a reason you weren’t a bartender) of the one you poured him, the pair of you stumbled into his office at the back of the bar. half the buttons are undone on his shirt, your hands sliding beneath the hem of his shirt even when he pulled away from you long enough to unlock the door, pulling you inside with him and nudge it closed once more before turning all his attention back to you; the way you stared up at him with glassy eyes, the way your lipstick smudged under your bottom lip, how your chest heaved (the way your tits looked when you did), how your dress rode up when you pulled yourself onto his desk, tugging him in by his belt loops.
he can’t even find it in him to care about the time-sheets crinkling under your ass when you bite your lip, can’t care you’re his employee and his mind goes blank of everything when you wrap your thighs around his hips. fuck, you’re irresistible like this; arching into him, kissing and biting his jaw, one hand tugging your dress further up your thighs, the other working off his belt to slide into his slacks, searching for more and more, more he wants to give you.
you’re just so, so, so hot… and he’s soft. he’s fucking soft. he finally has you under him and he can’t get it up.
let’s hope the alcohol buzzing through your blood is enough to clear your memory of this in the morning.
#mercurys birthday bash#「mercury answers」#「jo <3」#「kat <3」#「mercury writes」#tw: alcohol#bakugou drabble#bakugo drabble#bakugou x reader#bakugo x reader#bakugou katsuki x reader#bakugo katsuki x reader#katsuki bakugou x reader#katsuki bakugo x reader
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hehe scenario. jupeter coming out the other side of All That with a bit of 'wow you're just straight up a bit codependent but maybe that's actually the best-case scenario for you right now carry on fellas'
oh they've Had Their Talk in the aftermath, and, okay, it's agreed that they are Not Doing Romance because Nureyev needs Time To Grieve and it would be better to Take The Pressure Off Of Being In A Relationship and they will Reevaluate when Nureyev's had a chance to be a guy who doesn't have to worry about where his next meal is coming from. but also Like Hell is Juno just going to Leave Him Alone after all this. and the result is that they spend the Big Crash just. completely unhinged about each other. Nureyev's shot past 'feeling vulnerable around Juno scares the shit out of him' and well into 'raw nerves and gaping wounds and compound trauma and feeling vulnerable about literally anything and everything all the time and being around Juno is integral to not spiraling into the abandonment hell vortex'. meanwhile Juno's like 'holy shit Nureyev is letting me be there for him. this is already incredible progress'
u think they were insufferable on the Carte Blanche well. on the Carte Blanche Nureyev was still working on things like trusting Juno enough to let him back in at all and he Had An Image To Maintain and lots of Private Stuff to Deal With and Juno was still figuring out how not to be a prickly ass all the time and 'when is it appropriate to give your bf his space when your default mode is to Investigate Shit' and none of that is a going concern right now
'sometimes you gotta be a little bit mentally ill to handle the mental illness' they have so much separation anxiety and they are clipping their carabiners together. hooking pinky fingers and following each other when one needs to do something in the next room. where's Nureyev? sitting in Juno's lap again. his ass is experiencing 'nervous system doesn't know how to respond to the sudden removal of constant crushing dread and just goes fucking haywire at unpredictable intervals'. he gets random-ass panic attacks and there's only so much the breathing exercises and the grounding exercises and self-soothing techniques can do compared to 'Juno is here and he's fine and he's safe and he is more than happily providing prolonged physical contact' to get him to calm down on a physiological level
meanwhile Juno's like 'i chased this idiot across half the galaxy because he wouldn't ask for help and had to deal with him being all stone-faced and cold about it, do I look like i mind that he's clingy now? a lady does not need his personal space at this time. a lady is living for this. a lady is also maybe feeling clingy have u considered that'
everyone who isn't rita (idek who. melee? the other vivopolis refugees??) is assuming they are just getting a very bad grade in taking it slow and are barely humoring them about it. and neither bothers with denying the boyfriend allegations but it's not bc it's true it's they're just. too exhausted to get defensive about it
rita: and i mean they ain't actually smooching too loud in the kitchen or whatever
melee probably: he just came out of Juno's room wearing Juno's shirt
juno: he's a thief that's his shirt now
(12 hours earlier:)
nureyev: (shows up to juno's room at 3am) im sorry for waking you i had nightmares about [the bomb/the carte blanche raid/dokana capturing you] i just needed to see that you were alive and make sure im in the reality timeline and then i will go back to-
juno: get in loser we're watching bad cops
rita: hi mista' n do you want some of this blanket
nureyev: that's very kind but im afraid im
juno: yeah hold up he's like really sweaty im gonna get him a clean shirt
nureyev: you really don't need to-
juno: how are you even still standing up when you're shaking like that
nureyev: that is. an excellent question
juno: anyway welcome to the club i fired rita like an hour ago bc i had nightmares about her dying on the asteroid
rita: i had one where i was gettin chased by this big stompy plant monster with lotsa teeth and i had to distract it by throwing all my snacks behind me and then i was outta snacks and then i was up getting more snacks when mista' steel fired me
rita: you know i think only reason i ain't got separation anxiety about mista' steel is because we spent all that time in the ruby together while we were chasin' after you and that gets a gal over it real fast
juno: thanks rita :P
#good morning i am once again committing my little scenarios#hypothetical denouement nonsense#this is not even remotely legit speculation i am just saying words recreationally#the penumbra podcast#juno steel#peter nureyev
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What do you think about gojo ships
I feel like I'm pretty indifferent to most of them. This is super cringe of me, but whenever I fall super in love with a character I don't often like shipping them romantically with anyone. 💀 (im delusional I know)
It doesn't help that for some reason the jjk fandom (especially twt) is weirdly aggressive about ships. I know it isn't all the shippers and it's mostly just the loud minority, but seeing so much of the discourse has kinda put me off and I don't really engage much with the ships in the fandom except for rarepairs and selfships bc alot of the time those communities are more wholesome and cozy (if that makes sense LOL)
#satofie best ship#andnajdjskdjksnfksndjdj im sorry im cringe 😔😔#anyways i honestly have no idea#its not even about not liking seeing him with others bc i enjoy seeing other ppls gojo × oc/selfships#i just for some reason dont really vibe with any of the existing gojo ships in the series#weirdly enough if i had to choose one i feel like sukugo is the most interesting one LOL they are so funny with eachother#i feel like in a different life they really couldve hit it off#i feel bad for gojohime shippers sometimes#like i personally dont like the ship but oh my god ppl on twitter are so mean about that ship i dont even know why ???#is it bc alot of them prefer him shipped with a guy ?? or they dont like seeing another woman that isnt them with him?? i dont know#but i see so much hate for it and it makes me sad bc like just move on or mute the account so u dont have to see it if you really hate it#the amount of times ive seen some big jjk account qrt a fanart dissing the ship while also getting more likes than the artists post is craz#why do ppl fight over fake people kissing.......#i remember this one account specifically that was obsessed with gojo but they were so snobby about it and like gatekeeping other fans#and they really hated gjhm and for some reason felt the need to make it into a problematic ship instead of just saying#i dont like this and moving on#but they made this whole thing abt how toxic they actually are bc utahime hates gojo#only to (in the same thread) gush over their fave ship which was nanago#and i felt crazy bc its......literally the same dynamic what#like am i missing something ?????#anyways this got a bit wild but pls be nice to eachother and respect eachothers ships#you dont have to justify why u dislike a ship you can just not like it#no need to turn it problematic
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@inhcritance liked for a starter! (clone-ish shenanigans!!)
Harry Osborn is no stranger to waking up in strangely familiar places, whether that's the bed of the random person he went home with the night before, or, more recently, his bed -- in another universe. Somehow, he can always tell he's not in his home universe just by the way the sheets feel. Sometimes, they're a nice silk, othertimes an annoying microfiber cotton.
And, unfortunately, today is one of those days where he wakes up in a bed that something in him tells him is his, but not. He just hope this universe's Harry is, for lack of better words, living.
The ones where he's not are always harder to be in. He's a walking corpse in his own universe thanks to the botched Spider-Serum he'd attempted to make, but sometimes it's worse when that's literal.
He also hopes that he's not, well, currently dating someone. That'll make things awfully awkward.
"At least I'm not made of paint," he says.
#inhcritance#v: multiverse#the 'verse where everything is happy and nothing bad happened ever. except for everything bad thats happened to him bc oscorp -#-started dabbling in multiversal travel#also i have Not finished sm2 but im not scared of spoilers if u worry abt that lol#i'm TRYING to finish it but i havent had the time rly#i Am already in love with that harry tho. and ur harry!!!#also -- i know in ur rules the way u format ur posts; would u like me to bold my dialogue as well for accessibility reasons or is it just--#--stylistic choice?? either way is fine with me!! i just wanna double check <3#ALSO ALSO. sorry im so normal. anyways. idk where ur harry in relation to mine but i imagine he's at least close enough to hear/see mine --#--just. appearing out of nowhere.
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You have given me a great joy in life with your Renkaza au
May I ask, what happened to the rest of the Kamado family? Did they get their canon ending or are they with Nezuko as they try to deal with her new demonification?
oh yay im glad you're enjoying it so far! 🥰
nezuko's actually with her brother in the box, like in canon lol. i just havent drawn her--or inosuke or zenitsu--in the panels we've seen, but they're there!
as for the rest of the kamados... i actually havent decided LOL. my instinct is to save everyone, since this is a light-hearted comic strip, but also i'm not sure i'd be able to reliably write that since it involves more plot than the "stupid jokes loosely following canon" i mostly have written down aha. so i suppose it's a surprise for now, even for myself.
i guess we'll see!
#thanks for the ask 💖#sorry if this isnt a satisfying answer but i genuinely dont know rn haha#rei replies#ssh extras#like the thing is. the thing is i had like a short emotional 'i see you' moment planned out between renkaza#for when upper six die but if i save the kamados then i feel obligated to save gyu and ume which means id have to rejig that#and i have Ideas for how but they lean into the kind of fluff that feels so divorced from canon idk if i actually want to write it???#bc i do also love me some angst. hnn. i suppose we'll see how self-indulgent i decide to be about this#but looking at the way im characterizing hakuji u can tell im already being pretty self-indulgent LOL. 😂#so yeah it's a surprise even for me! but i AM leaning toward the 'everyone lives' route rn.#it's just. upper moons 4 and 5 are much harder to want to save versus upper moon 6 yknow. or even 1 &2.#but it'd be weird to be like 'f those guys in particular' lol. u can see my conundrum.#at the same time... this is my story so i can do what i want to??? hm.#WE'LL SEE.
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idk how long my laptop will survive seeing as i hardly use it anymore so anyway here's an abandoned project from a couple of years ago where i ambitiously tried to make an rpg with the yokai outfits. here are some sprites i made
#identity v#aesop carl#identity v embalmer#joseph desaulnier#identity v photographer#tracy reznik#identity v mechanic#this is a part 1 i have more. but its not enough for an entire game#i had a couple of glaring plotholed i couldnt resolve#n tbh by the time i got to the other sprites i didnt like the way aesop n joseph turned out cos i did them first#i also meant to shade them but i couldnt get around to it. i think the flats are nicer but i also feel like i should shade#project death by perfectionism. if anyone wants to hear more im more than happy to share about this#i could probably dig up the docs somewhere. i dont have the time or energy to make a full blown game#i am so bad at coding#also shoutout n apology to ish aka azzy mun cos she offered to help with this#but i disappointed both her and myself by not having anything very concrete. im sorry ish but also thank u for the help#anyway seeing as the blog is slowly dying due to lack of asks n interactions n also my full time job that hates me#i might as well dump these here for archive sake#unconcerned art#part 2 coming soon
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does anyone have recommendations for fictional media that has like. actual lesbians in it. not like supergirl Two White Skinny Girls, One Blonde and One Brunette Kiss media, or "its implied lesbianism!!!" but just regular fucking lesbians
#i say lesbians but i guess i mean sapphic#im just like. tired of gnawing#and of men also. sorry men in my life i love you but on god if i have to pretend one more man is butch just to get#content that isnt m/m or m/f im going to turn into a horse and run into the wilderness until im saved from the glue factory by a plucky#young woman except instead of letting her have her formative summer where she trains me and bonds w me and wins a competition w me#im going to commit horse suicide in front of her & change her life forever. just because im so tired of bland CW-marketable women kissing &#digging for scraps in a refuse bin while brushing aside 7002993829292929939292929399394 gay and het romances#m text#i will also take nonfictional lesbians if its like a story#not to be whiny on main but one of the hardest hurdles i had to jump wasnt realizing i was a lesbian. i came out to myself and to friends a#lesbian multiple times. but i would always walk it back when a friend would express doubt or a male friend would ask me out#bc i dont and especially then didnt know very many lesbians in person. and so i had to turn to examples#and all i fucking had were fictional women who liked men. or fictional lesbians who were so cleaned and sanitized and prettified#(you all know what i mean right. the 2 skinny white girls one blonde one brunette. im not crazy right)#and i would be like. i dont feel things when i look at these fictional lesbians so i guess i belong back here#(this is also bc my gender ended up being fuckier than i realized but shhhhh)#I WAS GOING SOMEWHERE WITH THESE TAGS but theyre too long and im lost.#anyway the point is if people werent so fucking weird abt fictional or onscreen lesbians maybe thered be a lot more people comfortable bein#out as lesbian#like sorry but this awful ouroboros of 'all lesbians onscreen have to be cute and sanitized' meaning that people write and believe wlw has#to be cute and pure and sanitized (OR a 'badge of honor' bc good for u u doodled two women together or had it as a background in ur fic)#meaning that therefore all portrayals of lesbianism continue to be like this. is just#and im also gonna be honest theres probably a lot of good sapphic media im just in the wrong circles to have stumbled into lol. so#yknow. personal viewer bias here#but i still like swing wildly between overly brandishing my dykeness as a badge to feel like im proving im lesbian#and like. backing up under a blanket bc i dont wanna be weird or annoying or freak people out#but if people just Saw Normal Ass Lesbians. aough.#im going to watch revolutionary girl utena one of these days even if i struggled w the writing style the first few episodes#I JUST WANNA SEE AN OLD BUTCH ONSCREEN GET SOME PUSSY.#like it also doesnt help im mostly femme4butch so seeing 2 femmes on screen is like. okay cool so what. but only femmes are 'marketable'
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this is like a sadgirl pathetic post but this guy i met recently at work was like, very direct and polite in being interested in me and i've been feeling him out bc i literally do not know him well enough to have an opinion but i can't like. he is so normal and nice. hes like a nice normal guy. every time i text him he doesn't say anything weird and he's extremely nice. what the hell. he's literally so nice. WHY. does he like. me???? like what's wrong with him that he specifically is interested in me????
#this is not even a low self esteem thing but shdhsbdhsdh every girl in the world is so pretty . me??? why?????#literally the day i met him & he asked me out i barely spoke to him was mind numbingly stupid and crawled on the floor on multiple occasion#i cant text this guy bc every time i have to answer im like. this guy is so fucking normal. me??? hes interested in me???? WHY????#everyome i try to convey this to is like :// aww he thinks ur cute. stop overthinking. WHATS WRONG WITH HIM#he specifically asked me out by asking the relief nurse what my name was and she offered to give him my number if i was ok w it#I WAS AT WORK..... I JUST SAID YES...... and i was like ok this probably will not go anywhere. he probably wont even text me#he texted me while i was commuting home literally he was still doing cases........#did i mention i was digging through garbage. literally he was like sorry the surgeon yelled at u she gets so flustered and ir was like no#she yelled at me bc im stupid. did u not notice that im stupid. this guy -- NORMAL -- literally saw me at my lowest and asked me out......#brandon oscillates#brandon what abt the guy at work u had a thing for I KNOW. im so torn however sjsbdbdhdbbx we are like actually coworkers#this guy if i see him every now and then in passing occasionally in the same room. that guy is my coworker for real#it cant happen. also dbxshsdhshdhe he has a 9 yr old hes too old for me. idk his relationship status but i dont think hes married.#also hes out of my league. also my other coworker told me he thinks hes gay but that hes closeted but that coworker is filipino so#mildly homophobic. i also told him to never tell anyone else that. i dont think hes gay. whatever.#i will miss my impossible crush as my hobby but this guy is nice and ahdhs its psychopathic to give him my number and then reject his date#can u imagine#whatever. im doing high school now i guess. the relief nurse is sooo proud of herself#shdbbd literally when i came back from lunch that day my scrub was like THE DOCTOR LIKES U!!!#and i was lkke omg really??? she doesnt think im stupid???? but it was this guy. and she did still think i was stupid#u know i have concert tickets for next thursday but shdhsd i literally have had too many experiences this year#i am trying to sell tgem#personal
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SENDING MY FIRST ASK FROM THE NEW BLOG!!!! i feel like i am sending a letter from a new address... crazy. ANYWAY HOW R U TONIGHT!!!! i hope ur havin a good day!!!! kicking my feet like a teenager at a sleepover rn tell me abt ur day who r the blorbos in ur mind rn what kinda art r u workin on lately how's it going friend!!!
HIIIIIII HI HI . HELLO SHADOW THE HEDGEHOG- i mean catboy cellbit!!! . dude i am. dreading the coming week tbh but it is fine !! we will get thru it we will survive!!! i am so sleepytired but alas i also cannot sleep so i may just have another night of reading and music ahead of me . wah. i hope u are hsving a good night <3 IVE BEEN COMPLETELY ART NERFED TOO BTW. my laptop died on me a couple days ago and while i was able to find a new one affordably it will not be here until the 13th 😔 so no digital art from me for a while. sigh. i DID just decorate my new sketchbook with stickers tho so im hoping that will get my brain in gear for traditional art again. AS FOR BLORBOS. oh . u know. the usuals. vash the stampede. zacharie from off . masky marblehornets (also tim marblehornets) . to name three of them.
#who are ur blorbos rn. i dont watch qsmp i think sering ur posts abt it are really funny bc im like. guy walks into the room on fire gif.#i have no idea whats going on in here congratulations and/or my condolences <3#thank u thank u i love the sleepover vibes. literally had gossip talk w one of my other friends earlier#(name withheld for reasons but if u see this u know who u are and i love u )#so the vibes are so correct#i have 2 work tomorrow :( not looking forward 2 that.#however it IS my last day of my long term overnight job which means i will be able to sleep in my own bed tomoerow night.#this is something i have not done for like. close to a month now. whcih is why ive been sleeping so awfully! so hopefully that fixes me#also have. job interview on wednesday for another aquarium place..#fingers crossed this goes better than my last one but also part of me is kind of hoping it doesnt go well#bc i hate transitional periods and i dont want 2 go thru the moving process again#and i dont want 2 meet a bunch of new ppl all at once again. and do the while job training thing.#alas that is the anxiety talkimg and i do actually want the job bc it would be good for me <3#sorry it is late and im soooo fucking sleepy so im rambling !!!! do not feel like u have to respond to . gestures vaguely at all that#its blorbo talk time. i desperately want 2 warch more mh right now#however the house im.staying in IS in the middle of the woods and very isolated and i have been so scared and paranoid#so i am OUTTA LUCK sigh. i will simply watch smth silly instead like gg tmph or david attenborough or perhaps spongebob will b on the tv.#asks#friends!!!#false-anachronism#<< oh fuck new url!!! i got like halfway thru typing ur old one before i was like WAIT SHIT.
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every now and then i come on here and wail and yell into what I think of as the void and then ppl come out of the void to say some kind words to me and i appreciate it so much, and also i get so flustered because I was perceived being anything less than a completely normal joe HFDSJGKL
#the fact that ppl take the time to interact w smth i've said/shared is always wild to me and really means a lot#but also im so so sorry that u had to see me have A Time on here fsdhgkl#big old brainfight between ''this is ur blog - post what u want'' vs ''i cannot subject other ppl to my emotions unless theyre happy ones''#im also so scared of responding sometimes bc i am afraid i will say smth somehow wrong and everything will come tumbling down#so if i ever do not respond just know that i likely saw it and teared up a little and then got scared that i'd stumble in a reply#and ended up avoiding replying bc i didnt want to ''ruin things'' somehow fdsjkl BUT I DEF APPRECIATED IT and wanted to say thank-you!!!#there is always a thank-you ready in my brain but i get scared of saying it sometimes bc i cannot always find the perfect way to say it !!#okay im gonna cut off my rambles here for tonight bc im starting to feel like i'm saying things wrong somehow so ADIOS FOR NOW fdsjkl#pippen needs 2nd breakfast
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ok guys i dont wanna be a hater but im gonna be 100% honest i didnt rlly like the nimona movie 😭 I MEAN IT WAS FUN. it was nice. but i feel like it was missing everything that made me like the original graphic novel and honestly by the last like 30 minutes i was kind of just waiting for it to be over so i could read the book again 😭 NO HATE TO ANYONE WHO RLLY LIKED IT believe me when i say i dont think it is bad or anything. but i feel like just sooooo much was changed that it didnt feel like nimona at all to me. idk how to explain it, im sure once i reread the book i’ll be able to put it into words since the original will be more fresh in my mind. i think it was good but as someone who was literally obsessed w the og graphic novel it was honestly kinda disappointing. but i dont rlly care honestly its still rlly cool it got a movie!!
but in my mind at least it proves that some things dont need to be made into a movie. ppl act like movies are the best form a piece of media can take and if something gets made into a movie then that’d be the peak form of it. but i honestly think nimona works wayyyyyy better in its original graphic novel form. most of the early stuff is way more slice of life lowkey stuff that lets you get attached to ballister and nimona as characters and get invested in their relationship w each other, BEFORE all the angsty final act stuff happens. also there honestly was just a ton of stuff that felt to me like it worked better in the original, like jousting tournament thing instead of the knighting ceremony, nimona being captured and being forced to turn into her “true” form rather than this new version with it just sort of happening bcuz of Emotions, etc. also the movie suffered from a lot of pacing and tone issues imo but the former i think is just from that lack of the slow buildup of their friendship, and the latter is something that i think just worked better in the book. idk again I’LL BE ABLE TO SAY THIS STUFF MORE CONCRETELY WHEN I ACTUALLY REREAD THE BOOK but i dont remember there being so much jokes and goofy shit DURING serious scenes. like iirc in the original during serious scenes it was SERIOUS. but in the movie theres so many unnecessary unfunny jokes and stuff. idk IDK i probably just had too high expectations idk. anyways
#also im kind of mad they changed the ending i know it works similarly but like THE TONE IS TOTALLY DIFFERENT#in the movie ballister goes back to the lair and you hear her voice and he gets all excited and goes ''HOLY SHI-'' and then it cuts to title#which seemed rlly lighthearted and played for laughs and srry but THE ENDING OF NIMONA ALWAYS MADE ME CRY SO IT LOWKEY PISSED ME OFF ToT#IN THE ORIGINAL. he wakes up in the hospital and the nurse like talks to him or whatever and then she comes in again and hes like ?? u were#just here. and shes like no?? and then he sees on the clipboard the nurse left behind the firsttime theres a shark drawing (or smthn)#clearly drawn by nimona. and you see his eyes widen and he rushes out of the room and he runs through a crowd desperately trying to find her#and then he sees her there. in the crowd. and he just stares looking sort of heartbroken. and she gives him a quiet bittersweet little wave#and then she disappears into the crowd. and thats the last you see of her#I FUCKING LOVEEEEEEEEEEEE THAT ENDINGGGGGG IM ACTUALLY SO MAD THEY CHANGED IT#also sorry i will die mad about the climax THE CLIMAX OF NIMONA IS WHAT GETS ME EVERY FUCKING TIME.#THOSE PAGES WITH THE HUGE MONSTER AND LITTLE GIRL NIMONA JUST RIPPING INTO BALLISTER MAKE ME CRYYYYYYY DAWG THEYRE SO GOOD#idk. idk. i cant put it into words but just the overall vibes of the book are so much better imo. i think nd stevenson's style fits the#story reallyyy well and idk if the movie's style rlly does the same. also i wish the movie wasnt as sanded down like the original wasnt like#INAPPROPRIATE. it wasnt adults only. but it had a lot more like. blood and rude humor and stuff. and i miss that#i think the best way i can put it is. the original is the scratchy ever evolving style of nd stevenson it feels raw and unfiltered#and thats why i love it and why it moves me so much. while the movie is much more polished and round and soft and im gonna be honest:#I DONT LIKE IT! sorry. having my hater moment#<- lightheartedly again I DONT THINK THE MOVIE IS BAD i just think that by comparison the book is way better#still incredibly happy for and proud of the whole team that made the movie i think its awesome!!!!#just my personal opinion#serena.txt#nimona spoilers#<- idk if anyone actually needs this but jic
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I hope your day/night gets better 💜 sending positivity your way💜💜
(You don’t have to answer)
jfkfjfje YOU’RE AN ANGEL OK PLEASE NEVER FORGET THAT 😭✨💫👍💖🫂🩵
thank you so much for this message ❤️ i’ll get there in the end (i hope) this ask means a lot <3 sending positivity on your way too!!
#tbh lately im just being. cranky and wasting time I know it 😔#my life feels like a telltale game rn#too many decisions#and I just have to wait and see if they end up being the right one#a little miserable for a bit since my cat went missing and a best friend of mine is at hospital…. but i’ll be okay….#thats why i had to close my req for now#i also feel so bad about myself because im not a very talkative person on tumblr#idk how to interact because of my anxiety😭 im the worse#but seriously i read all the tags and notifs from u guys and it made me very happy!!#i promise im not ignore it im just so shy to talk haha#hm ok enough about me#anyway I hope you’re better than okay 🤍 have a lovely day/night#sending you loads of love and reassurance!#sorry for too many tags….#wholesome#lovely ask#ask
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