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hannibals-favourite-meal · 3 months

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.⋆｡Steamy｡⋆.

Steve Rogers x plus size reader

Stolen shampoo, hot shower and a perky little ass

Warnings: fluff, nudity but no smut, domestic fluff, some crack humour, implied smut WC: 564

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

5k Follower Celebration

You were absolutely covered in sweat and grime, a result of letting Sam pick your hiking trail for the day and of course he picked one that would give you a ‘challenge’. 10 miles of mostly uphill terrain later, you were so ready for a hot shower and a nap with your boyfriend.

Your clothes came off piece by piece as you stumbled through your apartment until you reached the bathroom, where the shower was already running. You smirked as you tugged off your panties and slowly opened the door, revealing the site of a lifetime.

The steam made his pale skin glow under the bathroom light. Water rolled down the defined muscles of Steve’s back, droplets getting caught in the divots and valleys of his shoulder blades and the small dimples at the base of his spine, leading right to the perky ass of your dreams.

You bit your lip, it was far too tempting.

Your hand whistled as it flew through the air and collided with his perfect cheek with a satisfying smack. Steve immediately froze up, his hands still buried in his hair where he had been massaging in shampoo. Your smirk widened as he slowly turned to face you, his pretty blue eyes wide.

“Did you just… slap my ass?”

“And what are you gonna do about it doll?” You retorted with Steve’s usual line when he was the one to smack your ass. He glared at you so hard he didn’t even notice that you were completely naked. You let your own gaze drift downwards, following a particularly fat drop of water as it rolled down his torso. It raced between his toned abs before getting lost in the thick patch of hair right at the base of his pelvis.

Your eyes wandered lower but before you could go down any further, Steve’s hands flew to cover himself. “You’re objectifying me.” He whined yet his bright red cheeks gave away just how much he enjoyed your attention.

“You like it.” You stepped into the shower, letting out a happy groan as the hot water washed over your sore muscles. Your boyfriend wrapped a muscular arm around your thick waist and tugged you into his chest.

“How was the hike?” He asked as he pressed a kiss to your hair.

“It was fine but you need to tell Sam-“ You paused and sniffed at Steve. He raised an eyebrow at you but you ignored it and instead wound your fingers into his hair to pull him to your level. You buried your nose against his scalp and inhaled deeply. “Did you use my shampoo?”

“You weren’t supposed to be home yet?”

“How. Dare. You. Do you know how much that stuff costs! I only use it for special occasions!” You slapped a hand against his chest, purposefully ignoring the way he was flexing his pecs. Steve caught your wrists in one big hand. You thrashed playfully in his hold.

“Hey, it makes my hair look good.” He defended.

“Oh like you need to look any better than you normally do.” You sassed.

It was Steve’s turn to smirk as he pushed his hips forward and pressed his hardening cock into your soft stomach. “I just need to do my best to keep up with you.”

“Fuck you.”

“I’m trying.” He grinned and you rolled your eyes and leaned into him.

Request: Steve Rogers: 13,12 and28 @as-white-as-snow-love

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reiding-writing · 5 months

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Spencer who learned like a whole sss language or something niche like knitting, so he can teach it to reader cause he heard her talking about how hard it is to find a good teacher???

acts of service [ s.r ]

Summary:

Hobbies are supposed to be relaxing. So when Spencer sees you dwindle into frustration at your newfound hobby of embroidery, he takes it upon himself to teach you better than any low quality youtube tutorial would.

WARNINGS: unserious threat of self-induced harm, lots of mentions of needles and piercing things, horrible description of how to do a chain stitch 😭

pairing: spencer reid x gn!reader

genre: fluff

wc: 2.0k

masterlist!!

a/n: i genuinely spent about 15 minutes trying to figure out how to do a goddamn chain stitch because lo and behold, the internet sucks when it comes to tutorials 😭

Spencer watches from across his desk as you re-attempt a stitch in your embroidery hoop for the sixth time before giving up and throwing the hoop down on your desk with a huff and leaving to get a cup of coffee, muttering something under your breath about “Stupid stitches,”

He’d been watching you try in vain to learn to embroider for almost three weeks, and it was getting to the point where he was frustrated for you.

You’d picked it up as a way to relieve your stress whilst working, and instead you’ve manged to frustrate yourself to the point where you’re literally having to remove yourself from your desk to calm yourself down.

“Are you alright?” Spencer raises his eyebrow at you as you return to your desk with a cup of coffee cupped in your hands, and you sigh as you take a seat.

“I’m two minutes away from sticking my embroidery needle in my eye so I don’t have to look at this monstrosity anymore-” You place your mug down on your desk, holding the embroidery hoop to your face to judge your own creation.

“Please don’t,” Spencer’s tone carries genuine care for your well being, but its also followed by a laugh on the back end which indicates he knows you’re not serious.

“Why do I do this to myself?” You ask the question to no one in particular as you lean your head over the back of your chair, swivelling it back and forth with your foot as a pivot and leaving your hand to fall into your lap.

“Studies have shown that having hobbies, particularly creative ones, can decrease the amount of cortisol produced in our bodies over time, leading to an overall more relaxed state of being,” Spencer mirrors the way you turn in your chair as he watches you, answering your rhetorical question as if it were completely serious.

“I can tell you right now that I am the exact opposite of relaxed,” You exhale through your nose, joined by a shake of your head as you straighten your posture once more. “I think its time I cut my losses and give up,”

“No you should keep up with it, it’ll be much easier once you’ve got the hang of things,” He tilted his head slightly at you as he voiced his encouragement.

“Easy for you to say Mr. ‘I have an 187 IQ and an eidetic memory’,” You roll your eyes at him, although your expression betrays the fact that you’re not truly antagonistic towards his intelligence. “Half of the tutorials i’m watching don’t even actually show how to do anything,”

Spencer chuckles as your eyes examine the three straight lines of red stitching in the fabric like you were trying to incinerate them with your mind before discarding the hoop to the corner of your desk to actually get some work done.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

It’s two weeks before the topic of embroidery comes up again, you sat cross-legged and hunched over in your jet seat on the way back from a case in Montana, eyes boring into the fabric as you tried to create a shape vaguely resembling a circle.

“You shouldn’t hunch over like that you know,” Spencer sat down in the seat next to you with a yawn, leaning back against the padding of the leather chair with his head tilted in your direction. “It’ll tighten the muscles in your neck and give you a tension headache,”

You huff at his chastising of your posture considering his own but straighten your back nonetheless, holding your embroidery hoop at eye-level as you carefully puncture the fabric.

He’s glad to see that you haven’t given up on embroidery yet. Partly because it’s good for you to have a hobby that had zero relation to your job and partly because it meant that his 18 hours of research over the last ten days hadn’t been in vain.

“If you’re going in a circle it’s better to use a chain stitch,”

Your eyes flicker upwards at Spencer’s suggestion, wonky thread oval forgotten about as you narrow your eyes at him slightly in an accusatory fashion. “How do you know that?”

“I uh-” Spencer blinked a few times, eyes flickering across the jet’s cabin as he tried to find a reasonable explanation for his sudden knowledge in embroidery that wasn’t because he wanted to be able to teach it to you. “I know a lot of things,”

His intelligence was usually a valid excuse for whatever niche bit of information would come out of his mouth, but you knew for a fact that he had no prior knowledge on how to embroider something. He might have known the history of it at a stretch, but how to physically embroider something? Absolutely not.

If he had he would have told you weeks ago. So this was definitely something new.

“Mhmm, apparently so,” You nod with clear suspicion riddling your expression, but you weren’t about the turn away his help just because you were suspicious of the origins of his newfound expertise in embroidery. “Alright genius, show me then,”

You hold out the hoop in his direction and he takes it from you with an awkwardly endearing smile, un-stitching your botched attempt at a circle and turning the hoop at an angle so that you could see what he was doing.

It was only six stitches, but the way he passed the needle through the fabric was effortless, and it left a perfectly symmetrical blue circle in it’s wake.

“Chain stitching is much easier to curve than straight stitching due to the nature of how the needle passes through the fabric,”

If you weren’t so beholden to his ability to be good at absolutely everything he does you’re sure you’d be a little jealous. Or maybe it was the way his eyes glistened as he looked at you. No. It definitely wasn’t that. You were just grateful he was willing to help you, that’s all.

“Show me how to do it then if it’s so easy,” You shift yourself towards the leather arm that’s separating the two of you, leaning your elbows on it to watch him more closely as your eyes locked on the way the pads of his fingers held the needle.

“Here,” He held it out towards you, blunt side up, as an indication for you to take it. “I’ll walk you through it,”

You take the needle from him with a raised eyebrow, one that only continued to rise as he passed you back your embroidery hoop as well and leaned towards to to angle the fabric at a 45 degree angle towards himself so that he could see what you were doing.

“Alright, so first you want to pierce the needle through the back of the fabric towards you and pull all of the thread through,” You follow his instructions as he speaks, nodding once you’ve garnered yourself a big loop of thread that’s connected under the fabric at one end and your needle at the other.

“Alright?”

“Alright, now go back through that same hole from the top, and bring the needle back up through the fabric about a centimetre downwards, only half pulling the needle through,” You furrow your eyebrow slightly but try to follow him, although he stops you as you attempt to pull the needle all the way through with his hand on top of yours.

“Don’t pull it all the way back through,” He adjusts his body to face a similar direction to yours. “Here, let me help,”

His hands brush the tops of yours as one comes to assist you in holding up the hoop of fabric and the other guides your fingers in holding the needle. His skin is frigidly cold against your own, although whether that’s just because you run hotter than him or the fact that he’s so close to you you feel like you’re internally harbouring volcano you’re unsure.

With his hand guiding your own, you reinsert your needle back through the original hole you’d made from the top down and pierce it upwards through the fabric a little further across, leaving both the tip and the end of the needle above the fabric with the middle underneath.

“Good yeah, now this is the complicated bit, you need to get the rest of your thread,” He loops his ring finger around the excess thread, and makes an effort to move his fingers as slowly as possible so that you can see exactly what he’s doing. “and wrap the start of it underneath the tip of your needle,”

He demonstrates his words as he speaks, pulling the beginning of the loop of thread tight underneath the tip of the needle before slowly pushing the needle all the way through the fabric until it’s free once more, and there’s a small looped stitch in the fabric.

“And then to create your next stitch you do the same steps, but start inside of the first loop,” He again demonstrates his words as he uses your hands to make a second stitch that, like the name suggests’ creates a two-stitch chain from where the stitches are connected.

“See, really simple, just a little convoluted in terms of instructions,” His eyes turn away from the fabric and back towards yours once he’s finished his explanation, although yours remain on your needle. “Think you can do it on your own?”

It takes you a second to come back to your senses, and you blink up at him blankly for a moment before nodding, a soft “yeah I think so…” echoing from your throat.

You didn’t have the heart to tell him that you were to distracted by the way his hands moved against yours to listen to a single thing he said.

“Let me know if you need any more help okay?” He gave you that awkwardly endearing smile that reached his eyes and made you want to scream into your hands at the prospect of being so perfect.

You return it with a half-stunted nod as you desperately turn your eyes downwards to your fabric again, unable to look at him any longer without flushing red light a traffic light. “Yeah thanks-”

“I’ll teach you how to do a running whipped stitch next, it uses two different colours of thread,”

Whipped is right-

Spencer’s tone held all the enthusiasm of a child who’d just learned that you could mix multiple colours to create a new one, and it easily rubs off on you as you resign yourself to actually listening to what he’s trying to teach you instead of just fawning over how it feels when he touches you.

“Can you- show me how to do a chain stitch one more time?”

“Of course!”

The minute his hands touch yours again you know you’re done for.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds x reader #mgg #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fluff #asks 🫶

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kazumist · 1 year

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SQUISHING HIS CHEEKS .ᐟ

✩ — includes: childe, zhongli, xiao, scaramouche x gn!reader. fluff. no cws. wc: 187. please do reblog !! it would rlly help me a lot :D btw lmk if u want a part 2 with diff characters bc i might indulge in that idea,,

childe — !

he would squish your cheeks back, making that fish similar face or whatever you call it. he finds it cute but you find his face cuter. and there's something about you holding his face… it makes him soft. very soft.

xiao — !

xiao would be so confused but he'll find it nice! he'd have some sort of warm feeling inside when you squished his cheeks and told him he was cute—he just doesn't know how to express himself that he enjoys this gesture.

zhongli — !

he’s kind of like childe but would hesitantly do it because he doesn't know he's doing it right. this gesture was a bit new to him—but despite that, he'd let out a light chuckle as you squish each other's cheeks.

scaramouche — !

he would pull your hands away from his fave or even worse, he would slap it away playfully. he only did it because you initiated it in public—which wasn't to his liking (he doesn’t want people to witness him being all soft in public). scaramouche only shows a vulnerable side behind closed doors with you and you only. it stays that way.

#( writings )#astronetwrk #favoniuslibrary #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin imagines #genshin headcanons #childe x reader #xiao x reader #zhongli x reader #scaramouche x reader #childe #xiao #zhongli #scaramouche #due to popular demand this has finally been out of the drafts #i have to finish this one post i want to do as well omg wait #can u tell i personally liked scara in this idea (his part is lowkey the longest)

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incognit0slut · 11 months

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Right Kind of Wrong (9)

She never thought she would be involved in a murder investigation and encounter her one-night-stand again, the awkward guy who isn’t exactly that good in bed—Or is he? Offended by the sentiment, Spencer is determined to prove her wrong… But as he gets tangled with the beautiful stranger, he realizes there is more to her than what meets the eye.

Part Summary: A shocking call has Spencer questioning her involvement in the case. wc: 3.7k

Series Warnings: 18+ explicit content, graphic details of murders, mentions of suicide

Other parts: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14

MASTERLIST

SPENCER COULDN'T REMEMBER THE LAST TIME HE FELT AT PEACE. Although protecting people and making them safe gave him a certain comfort, the pressure of being involved in harrowing cases took a toll on him more than he expected. But amid the ongoing investigation, he felt rather...calm.

He wasn't stupid. He knew exactly the reason why, between his responsibilities and obligations, he found himself embraced by this unexpected peace. It certainly had to do with the woman still nestled in his bed as he now stood in his kitchen, contemplating whether she preferred drinking coffee or perhaps something sweeter to start her day.

He couldn't believe it. He never imagined himself debating on another person's choice of beverage. Yet here he was, making a new pot of fresh coffee and setting out another mug to prepare a nice, warm cup of hot chocolate because its rich sweetness reminded him of her. If he didn't know which one she preferred between the two, he was going to make both.

He let out a sigh. He was a fool, wasn't he? Spencer was never one to indulge himself in romance. It wasn't easy for him to get swept away by any potential relationships. Falling in love again seemed like an illusion for him, something so far out of his reach. It seemed impossible to find someone he genuinely liked after losing the only person he ever considered spending the rest of his life with.

But look at him now, falling for somebody he met less than two weeks ago. For a smart person with an IQ of 187, he certainly was a fool.

Although having to know her for a mere fraction of time, Spencer had never fathomed that he could harbor such feelings. Having her soft body pressed against his side let him understand how much her presence stirred his heart.

And it wasn't just the physical aspect. The night wasn't simply spent with the warm feeling of her bare skin, but it was also filled with her laughter. Their late-night conversations delved into the realms of dreams and vulnerabilities, effortlessly bridging the gap between two strangers. With each passing conversation, he discovered the captivating intricacies of her mind which he wanted to understand better.

He liked her. He really did.

Maybe after all this ordeal, after he could disclose this current case, he could ask her out on a proper date. When there was no more boundary between them, when he wasn't an authority and she wasn't someone linked to a case, he would finally enjoy her company without feeling guilty.

He was pouring the fresh pot of coffee into a mug when his phone suddenly rang. He let out a groan, knowing what was waiting for him as he noticed Garcia's name plastered on the screen.

"Hey, Garcia," he greeted, slipping his phone between his face and his shoulder. "New update?"

"Reid."

He froze, noticing the strain in her voice. He quickly stopped what he was doing and straightened himself, pressing his phone against his ear. "What's wrong?"

"Are you sitting down?"

"Uh—no." He frowned at her question. "Why?"

"You might want to sit down."

He didn't, of course. But his mind was already buzzing with curiosity. "What is it?"

"Reid," she whispered, her voice dropping low as if trying to keep quiet. "You're the first person I called which means nobody else knows about this...yet."

"Garcia," he probed, suddenly feeling anxious. "What is it?"

There was a shuffling at the end of the line before her voice filled his ear again.

"Okay, so I crossed references that could help me find any articles Jamison Lynch wrote that might involve Kevin Marshall, and it turns out, there are none. Nothing. Nada." There was an unsettling pause before she continued, "Although there is one article mentioning Mr. Marshall by a journalist, who as of now, is an active employee at the publishing firm Jamison worked at. Guess who it is?"

He clutched the phone tighter as a tumultuous mix of emotions churned in his gut. In that moment, time seemed to stretch, waiting for his response. He paused, his mind spiraling into a web of confusion and disbelief as he pieced together the verity of this call.

"I'm guessing by your silence you already know why I wanted to call you first."

He did. He knew why it was important for Garcia to be informing him before anyone else. His eyes then glanced towards his bedroom door. Gone was the peaceful bliss he had felt, replaced by a gnawing sense of unease. Confusion suddenly swirled within him, clouding his thoughts and casting shadows upon the woman who still lay peacefully on the other side of the wall.

The warmth he relished this morning was now replaced by a chill of uncertainty that seeped into his veins.

"What—" He suddenly cleared his throat, hating how his voice sounded so foreign to him. He took a deep breath. "What else did you find?"

"I did more sleuthing and found Y/n's name as one of the people who filed a complaint against Jamison—which meant nothing, really, since he was known as a complete douchebag." Garcia then stopped. "May he rest in peace."

"Is there anything else?"

"Well, as it turns out, Jamison Lynch wasn't the first person Y/n filed a complaint for. There was also a complaint against Mr. Marshall."

"I thought Kevin Marshall was clean?"

"He was until I hacked into his company's database system and found this single complaint sent by her, which by the looks of it, seemed to be buried under a lot of firewalls." The clicking sound of a keyboard played in the background. "It was as if the company he worked for, or even Mr. Marshall himself, tried to hide it."

His burrows furrowed. "What was the complaint for?"

"Sexual Harassment."

His heart pounded in his chest, a fiery rage suddenly coursing through his body. The revelation he had just uncovered struck him like a thunderbolt, leaving him torn between seething anger and a torrent of conflicting emotions. The person he came to like had once suffered the unimaginable—a vile act of assault perpetrated by the man who now lay lifeless, a victim of murder.

Yet beneath the simmering rage, doubt festered like a poisonous seed. He was suddenly questioning the nature of her involvement. Not only did she know one of the victims, but she was also acquainted with both of them. His thoughts churned, torn between the desire to dismiss this uncertainty and the nagging voice of suspicion that echoed in the depths of his mind.

"Reid," Garcia called out when she was met with silence. "I don't what this means. I don't understand how or why she's linked between these two victims but please, please, don't do anything stupid."

His eyes drew back to his bedroom. Even when he was stuck between the depths of his emotions, the rational part of his brain managed to turn its gear. "Garcia, I need you to find out whether she knew the third victim."

"You mean the suicidal case that doesn't seem like suicide?"

"Harvey Webb," he confirmed, the name printed in his brain.

"Alright, I will. Oh—and Reid?" He hummed a reply. "Don't act on impulse. Please don't go concluding stuff on your own when you're obviously involved with her."

"I..." He took a deep breath. "I'm not involved with her."

"You're telling me you asked for her address and you didn't do anything about it?" When he didn't respond, she clicked her tongue. "Exactly. Now listen, I need to go and tell the others this, so come by the office and we'll deal with it together, okay?"

He glanced towards the cup of coffee now sitting cold by the counter. "Thanks, Garcia."

"You're welcome, boy genius."

As the phone call ended, Spencer found himself adrift in a sea of swirling emotions. This information was a step further into the investigation now that he found a link between the victims. But as the pieces of the puzzle fell into place, a cloud of doubt descended upon his thoughts.

The deeper he delved into the complexities of the situation, the more elusive the truth became. Was it really possible she had anything to do with the murder? Could the trauma she had endured have pushed her to take matters into her own hands?

The questions lingered like a toxic fog, polluting his mind.

"Good morning."

Spencer looked up to see Y/n padding across the room wearing nothing but his shirt. The way the material draped over her form accentuated her curves, holding an allure that was impossible to ignore. His eyes traced the lines of her body, from the tousled strands of her hair to the subtle curve of her hip. It was an intimate sight that would have once mesmerized him completely.

But his mind was too clouded with his doubt.

"I hope you don't mind me borrowing your shirt—" She stopped when her eyes fell on him. "What's wrong? Is it the shirt?" She looked down at herself. "Should I change out of it?"

As quickly as the enchantment had taken hold, the weight of his doubts resurfaced. At that moment, the air crackled with unspoken words, an invisible barrier separating them. Spencer's heart ached with the weight of uncertainty.

How could the woman he had fallen for potentially be connected to a heinous crime? It seemed inconceivable, yet the voice at the back of his head urged him to question his doubt.

"Why didn't you tell me you knew Kevin Marshall?"

The unexpected question startled her, her feet instinctively taking a step back. "What?"

"When I questioned you that day, why didn't you mention that you knew him?"

She studied him, wondering where this was suddenly coming from. "I didn't think it was important," she finally responded. "And technically, I didn't know him personally. I interviewed him once for work."

"What happened that day?"

"What do you mean?"

"When you interviewed him, what happened?"

She felt his gaze upon her, intense and penetrating, and a shiver ran down her spine. It was as though he had glimpsed into the depths of her soul, unraveling something not many people were aware of.

"You know." It was more of a statement rather than a question. She took another step back. "Nobody else knows except a few of my closest friends but—" She shook her head. "That doesn't matter. What matters is how you know. I don't even think that company kept the files, they practically ignored my complaint."

"They kept it," he mused.

"And how do you know this?"

"The technical analyst in our team managed to find your files hidden."

"Technical analyst—why were you even searching for it?" She crossed her arms across her chest, focusing her attention on him. "Answer me. Why was your technical analyst searching for my complaint?"

Her heart was pounding against her chest as she waited for his answer.

"Because you're currently the only person linked between the two cases we're working on."

She frowned. "You mean the cases you think are done by the same killer? The death between my late boss and Kevin Marshall?"

"Yes. But this is only procedure, we do an investigation on any leads that we find."

"Investigation?" Then it dawned on her. It fucking dawned on her. Offense suddenly surged through her while his words, accusing and laced with suspicion, struck her with a sense of betrayal. "You think I have to do something with the murders."

The atmosphere, once a sanctuary of shared affection, now felt suffocating, closing in around her as the weight of his accusations settled heavily on her shoulders. His silence spoke louder than words.

"Unbelievable." Her eyes blazed with anger, her voice sharp and defensive. She turned away and stalked back to his room. "Unbelievable."

"Where are you going?"

"I'm leaving," she hissed, noticing him trailing behind her. "Did you expect me to stay here and let you interrogate me like I'm some kind of criminal?"

His face twisted in frustration. "I just want to know what happened the day you interviewed Kevin Marshall."

"Why? So you can accuse me even further?”

“That’s not what I’m doing.”

“You’re questioning me. You want to know whether I have some kind of vendetta against him."

"I'm not trying to accuse you of anything."

"But you are." Without any warning, she gripped the hem of his shirt and pulled it over her head. "You're practically cornering me with all the questioning, especially with that look on your face."

He quickly looked away and she stopped herself from scoffing at the absurdity of it. She was about to divulge how his sudden modesty was unnecessary when he spoke, "I wouldn't have to constantly ask you if you had answered me sooner."

This time she did scoff, grabbing onto her own pair of clothes. "You caught me off guard. What was I supposed to do?"

"Answer the question and not avoid it like what you're doing now."

"You think I'm avoiding the question on purpose?"

He drew his eyes back to her. "A study shows that body language plays a crucial role in interpersonal communication, and based on its verbal indicator, an attempt to avoid answering the question is notable by your vague response."

"And you're analyzing me based on that?"

"It's my job to analyze anyone involved in the case.”

"Anyone involved?" She screeched, dumbfounded by his judgment of her. "I trusted you last night, I opened up to you, and now you're throwing these baseless accusations at me?"

"I'm not accusing you of anything. I'm trying to make some sense of where you're connected in all of this."

"You don't even know how I'm involved!"

"That's what I'm trying to find out!"

The air crackled with tension, heavy with the echoes of their heated words. The silence that followed was almost deafening, a palpable strain that hung in the air like a fragile thread. The once intimate space now felt hollow, as if drained of its energy by the intensity of their emotions.

Breathless and emotionally drained, they stared at each other, their eyes mirroring a mix of regret, hurt, and lingering anger. But as the echoes of their heated argument faded, she felt a sudden wave of exhaustion wash over her. The adrenaline that had fueled her anger now deserted her, leaving her drained.

"You know what was on my mind this morning?" She suddenly spoke. "I woke up thinking I was happy to run into you again. It didn't take long for me to understand that, albeit the circumstances, I actually came to like you."

As the words spilled from her trembling lips, her voice quivered with vulnerability. But then a shadow of doubt danced in her eyes. A new wave of anger surfaced, overpowering the fragility of her confession.

"But the person I like is not this version of you. Who I like is Spencer Reid, not Doctor Reid."

He frowned. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means, right now, you're not the same guy I spent the night with. You're scrutinizing me, you're—what is it that you do again? Ah, yes, a profiler." She pointed a finger at him. "You're trying to profile me, you're trying to read my mind in my most vulnerable state because if you haven't noticed, Spencer, I'm standing here half naked while you're pestering me with your questions."

He quickly glanced away, noticing the truth in her words. He had let his anger and suspicion cloud his judgment of her, something Garcia had warned him not to do. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I'll go wait outside."

"Don't bother, I'm almost done."

But he was already out of her vision, and when she heard the soft click of the door closing behind her, she let out a shaking breath.

She stood there, her heart aching with a mix of disappointment and betrayal. His accusations had cut deep, searing through the bliss they had nurtured the past night. The warmth that once enveloped them had been replaced by a cold emptiness, leaving her feeling adrift in a sea of uncertainty.

Her eyes drifted to the unmade bed before her. The memory of the night lingered in her mind like a bittersweet melody, playing on the strings of her heart. The tender moments they had shared, the warmth that had enveloped them seemed so distant now, overshadowed by the disappointment and anger that colored her mind.

She had hoped for a peaceful morning, a continuation of the intimacy they had shared under the cover of darkness. Instead, she found herself faced with the harsh truth of their current reality, the dissonance of their unspoken tensions. His doubt had tarnished the tender memories, leaving a bitter taste on her lips.

With a heavy sigh, she let the memories of last night linger for a moment longer before gathering her strength. She walked out of the room once she was fully clothed to find him standing by his couch, his body turning at the sound of her footsteps.

"Y/n."

“Thanks for listening to me last night."

"Y/n."

"Thank you for letting me stay too."

"Y/n."

"Stop."

Her hands clenched into fists, a physical manifestation of the conflicting emotions raging within her. He watched her, and as the silence stretched between them, she saw a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes, a recognition of the hurt he had inflicted. Perhaps he had acted out of fear, allowing the shadows of the investigation to cast doubt on her. But the betrayal still lingered too deeply.

"You know what frustrates me?" She wondered. His silence was a sign for her to continue. "You're questioning me not because you genuinely want to know, you're doing it out of your obligation because you think it's your job to do so."

She held out a hand when he took a step closer.

"And it's fine," she went on. "It is your job. You're the federal agent here and I'm merely someone whose name is linked to the case."

"Y/n, I didn't mean to—"

"With that being said, we should keep our relationship strictly that way."

Her words hung heavy in the air, each syllable an arrow piercing his heart. He stood there, frozen, his eyes fixed on her as if searching for a flicker of hesitation, a glimmer of doubt. But her resolve was unwavering. With a deep breath, she mustered the courage to speak once more, her voice steady and resolute.

“If you really want to know what happened, call me into your office, I'll answer your questions then.”

Her expression dulled as she held his gaze, and with one last jaded look etched in her somber eyes, she finally turned around without sparing another glance, excusing herself from his apartment.

He watched as the door closed behind her.

Spencer stood there, surrounded by an oppressive silence that echoed the void she had left behind. Time seemed to stand still as he grappled with the overwhelming flood of emotions. The truth of the situation settled upon his shoulders, the reality that their paths had diverged and the bliss they had once shared had transformed into something unrecognizable.

Just as the weight of his emotions threatened to overwhelm him entirely, his phone suddenly pinged with a new alert. Startled, he reached for it, his fingers trembling as he unlocked the screen. The digital glow illuminated his face, casting a pale light upon his features as he read the message.

PENELOPE: THEY'RE CALLING HER IN. SHE KNEW THE THIRD VICTIM.

Spencer stood frozen, his eyes wide with disbelief as he stared at the words. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat reverberating through his entire being. He dialed Garcia’s number only to be rejected as soon as the first ring echoed in his ear.

PENELOPE: CAN'T TALK. HOTCH IS BESIDE ME.

His heart raced, his breath quickened, and a mixture of anger, confusion, and fear surged through his veins. Spencer quickly walked over towards his window and saw a glimpse of Y/n climbing into a cab, her phone pressed against her ear. He ran a hand through his curls in frustration as his phone alerted a new message.

PENELOPE: GET YOUR ASS HERE, REID.

SPENCER: I'm on my way.

Confusion clouded him, the lines between truth and lies blurring in his head. And beneath it all, fear lurked, whispering doubts about his judgment.

A heaviness settled upon his chest, constricting his breath and swarming his thoughts. The calm that had graced his waking moments seemed like a distant memory now—his peace only lasted briefly.

>> NEXT PART

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#spencer reid #spencer reid x female reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid series #spencerreid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x fanfiction

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glasseffynity · 1 year

Text

INTELLECT TO INSOMNIA ft. SPENCER REID, READER

Warnings: Blow + handjob, overstimulation, praise, mentions of insomnia, Sub!Early Seasons!Spencer x Dom!Reader

Wc: 1,209

There are very few challenges that Spencer cannot overcome; An IQ of 187, coupled with an eidetic memory, leaves very few obstacles that cannot be toppled through intellect and logic. Yet, the BAU's resident genius has come up on his third day of less than 2 hours of sleep.

Perhaps the most frustrating part of his problem is that his intelligence becomes utterly useless; All the genius in the world won't prevent him from needing one of the most essential keys to survival: Sleep. At the end of the day, Spencer remains painstakingly human.

Perhaps that raw humanity is what has led him here to this hotel room, sitting at the edge of your bed, crumbling under your soft hands; Whether he chooses to act on them or not, Spencer will always have desires, desires that cannot be abided by his hands alone, desires that you are more than happy to oblige in.

A slight jerk of your hands along his length rips a whimper from his swollen lips, aching from his biting down on them in an attempt to prevent the other members of the team learning of your shared endeavors. When you delicately wrap your lips around his leaking tip, Spencer all but drools at the sight.

You've always been a blessing to him: Indulging in his ramblings and statistics that made the rest of the team's ears bleed, holding him close when the thunder and lightning became too much to bear on his own, loyally remaining at his side and witnessing the brightest and darkest depths of his soul. It should come as no surprise to him that you, in all of your kindness and compassion, would happily come up with a solution for his insomnia; It doesn't come as a surprise that you would help, Spencer just found himself in awe that you would go to such lengths for his sake.

And so he sits, in (not very) quiet appreciation of your soft touches and unabashed worship of him, digging his nails into the sheets as you take all of him down your throat, your nose brushing the neatly trimmed hairs at his base. Being taken in so completely, so wholly, has Spencer throwing his head back in ecstasy, unabashedly whimpering pleas of your name. His vision flashes white, and any possible statistic, any equation, any semblance of proof that his IQ was even in double digits, goes flying out the window as his seed spurts down your throat.

Weakly, as his vision refocuses, and you have yet to ease up around his girth, Spencer begins to panic. You glance up at him, innocently, and lift your lips off of him with a soft pop. The sight and sensation makes Spencer shiver. And when your soft lips are replaced with your even softer hands, Spencer becomes truly afraid.

"I-It's too m-much," he stutters out, eyes wide with panic, bottom lip trembling. You only hum in return, continuing your pace along his shaft. As much as he'd like to tell you to slow down, that it's starting to hurt, his body betrays him, broken whimpers and pants falling from his lips; Curse his pathetic humanity, making him fall victim to your touch like this.

"You can take it, Pretty Boy," You reply, your nonchalance thinly veiling a genuine desire to comfort him. "You're being so good for me, you can take a little more." Spencer's desire to please being as strong as it is will clearly lead to his downfall; Then again, beneath the pain resulting from the sensitivity of his previous orgasm laid a plethora of euphoria, waiting to be lured out once again by your ministrations. With a hesitant nod of his head, he sits back and allows you to continue your work.

With much less effort than either of you would have expected, Spencer once again finds himself on the verge of cumming for the second time. Any hesitation Spencer may have held on to slips away the moment you press a chaste kiss right on the tip of his aching dick.

There isn't a single word in his vast vocabulary that can even come close to describing how Spencer feels. This is more than an orgasm, more than just euphoria; It's something much, much bigger. In what might just be the clearest thought he's ever had in his 24 years of living, Spencer has an epiphany. An epiphany about you, an epiphany about your future together. He can see it all in the most crystal clear resolution: getting down on one knee, slipping a ring onto your finger; Him and you, a big house, 3 kids, a dog or cat maybe-

"Sweetheart, are you ok? " His plans for the future are interrupted by your hesitant questioning, staring at up at him with big eyes, lacking the confidence you'd put on display for him just moments prior. It occurs to Spencer just then that smiling like an idiot and staring off into space likely portrays his psyche in a way that's less than flattering.

Admittedly goofy smile still plastered on his face, Spencer softly eases your concerns. "I'm ok, thank you." Satisified with the crease in your brow relaxing and the deep breath you let out, Spencer becomes blatantly aware of just how tired he is.

Thankfully, between you two, you haven't forgotten what you hoped to achieve when you unbuttoned his pants. Standing up, ignoring the pain in your knees from how long you remained in one position, you grab a washcloth, gently wiping the evidence of your actions off of his stomach. Knowing his sweater vest, corduroy pants, and converse are less than preferable for sleeping in, you go to the other room, grabbing him a pair of pajamas out of his still-packed suitcase. What you find when you come back into the bedroom, however, is that Spencer pays no mind to his current attire, already conked out on the bed.

With a small smile, you remove his glasses off of his sleeping face, and cuddle yourself in against him.

The team isn't oblivious to the obvious change in Spencer's state the next morning.

"Looks like Pretty Boy finally got some sleep last night," Morgan jokes, nudging Spencer's shoulder as they drink their morning coffee. Elle, hearing the two conversating, comes over as well, taking a break from reading over files on the most recent victims of the team's current case.

"So, what'd you do to finally get some shut-eye?"' Elle questions. It's by no means an unreasonable question; He hadn't slept for 2 days prior to last night, and it would take something miraculous to finally get him to fall asleep. While he certainly finds you miraculous, your relationship has been a private matter, and Spencer would prefer to keep it that way. "I had some help from a friend," He responds with a small smile. The connotations this brings on would be undeniable if it wasn't Spencer. The team, assuming the 'friend' in question made him some tea or got him some form of supplements, move on with the case, leaving Spencer in peace.

Spencer isn't ashamed of you, but he thinks that for now, he'll keep you, and your wonderful methods of curing insomnia, a secret for now.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #sorry for the hiatus #I had really bad writer's block #but i'm back now

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rubyreduji · 2 years

Text

Lick The Bowl Clean — kmg

summary: late night baking heals the soul, especially when done with a friend

genre: complete and utter fluff, college!au, gn!reader wc: 1.5k an: i started this during midterm season and now its final seasons...anyways

You hate midterm season. It’s arguably worse than finals seasons in your opinion. It always sneaks up on you and there’s a recurring theme with your professors where they don’t prepare you for them nearly as much as they do with the final.

You’ve been up all night studying and you’ve finally had enough. You think that if you look at notes for any longer that you’re going to drive yourself insane. The issue is that you’re not tired though and you still have to study for one more class.

Soft grumbles leave your throat as you stand up from your desk and stretch your limbs out. You listen to the way your spine cracks as you arch your back and you groan at the feeling. Your body is stiff and sore from sitting in the same place for so long. The added stress weighing on you doesn’t help much either.

The time on the clock reads 2:49 am. You release a deep sigh and pad around your room, collecting your needed items, before leaving your dorm room and heading to the communal dorm kitchens.

There are twenty-four hour kitchens and even though you know it’s late your brain is still running rampant and you’re always at your best after a little late night stress baking session. You know it’s impractical to keep a ton of baking ingredients in your dorm but it’s perfect for moments like these and that’s all that matters. You take your basket of ingredients and hike it up onto your hip before starting your trip to the kitchen.

You’re relieved when you open the door and it’s empty. You set your things down and automatically get to work. You set all of your tools and ingredients out before preheating the oven and greasing the pan. Once those steps are done you move to start measuring things, your brownie recipe memorized by heart.

Soft humming fills the room as you move around, pouring different things into the bowls for you to combine. You’re completely in your zone, happy to have something to lose yourself in that’s not your class notes.

You’re just about to crack an egg when you hear the noise echo through the room. You spin around at the noise, startled, only to calm down when you see who’s entered the kitchen. Standing at the entrance is Kim Mingyu. He lives in the dorm right across the hall from you and is one of the nicest people you have ever met.

“Y/N. What are you up at this hour?”

“I was uh, stress baking,” you admit with a small laugh. “What are you doing up at this hour?”

Mingyu lets out a chuckle. “I guess that’s fair. I’m here to make my ramen.” Mingyu holds up the styrofoam cup of instant noodles.

You let out a fake gasp. “The Kim Mingyu eats instant ramen,” you tease. It’s well known on your floor that Mingyu is an amazing cook, always whipping something up that completely blows the dining hall food out of the water.

“Something has to get me through studying,” Mingyu laughs as he walks over to the sink to put water in the noodles.

“Tell me about,” you snort, “why do you think I’m stress baking at two am?” You turn back to your bowl, cracking the egg you were about to crack before Mingyu walked in. To the side of you Mingyu has put his ramen into the microwave and turns back towards you.

“Do you want any help with that? Or is this a strictly Y/N only baking session?”

You laugh. “I mean, you’re pretty strong. Want to stir this for me?” You push the bowl of wet ingredients towards the boy. “I don’t have a mixer here, and it’s too late to use one anyways.”

“On it.” Mingyu takes the bowl and starts to stir together the ingredients.

You don’t know how to explain it but there’s something a bit ridiculous about this scenario. 187 cm, muscular, basketball jock Kim Mingyu standing in the student kitchen with you in his black t-shirt and plaid pj pants, helping you make brownies. You stare at his face, completely concentrated on combining the ingredients together. It’s kinda cute.

You stifle a giggle before turning back to measuring the dry ingredients. By the time you have that done, Mingyu is back at the microwave taking care of his ramen. You’re expecting him to leave the kitchen but instead he moves over to the chairs and sits down. This choice makes you smile to yourself a bit. You’ve always liked Mingyu. He’s funny and kind and handsome. Even just has a friend, he's incredibly charismatic.

When you’ve got the dry ingredients all measured out you start to dump them into the wet ingredients Mingyu mixed.

“Woah, let me do that!” Mingyu stands again and walks over to you.

“Do you not think I’m strong enough to do it myself?” You raise an eyebrow at the man. “I’d like you to know I’ve been hand mixing my batters for years.”

“Oh I don’t doubt it, but I kinda thought that was the thing we had going on here. I’m the brawns, you’re the brain.” While Mingyu is talking he reaches over to grab the bowl out of your hand. “I like to be helpful, okay?”

You snort. “Fine, we can both do it. I pour the dry, you mix it together.”

“You’re not gonna like…get flour all over me are you?” Mingyu asks, suspicion lacing his tone.

“I’m not cliche Kim Mingyu,” you feign offense.

“I’ll trust you…just this once L/N Y/N,” Mingyu plays along, which makes you smile.

You two finish mixing the batter and you’re putting it in the pan and sending it into the oven. You scraped the bowl out pretty well but there’s still a bit in there and you turn to Mingyu who is back to eating his (now cold) ramen.

“Do you want to lick the bowl?”

“What?”

“Do you want to lick the bowl? Like get all of the batter that’s left.” You get a bit on your finger and lick your finger clean to demonstrate. “It was like the best part of baking when I was growing up.”

“I- uh, sure,” Mingyu agrees and you happily join him at the table to lick the bowl.

You two sit there eating the left over batter and chatting, waiting for the buzzer to go off. You rush over to the oven to taste the brownies. You smile to yourself as you reveal they’re perfectly done. You pull them out of the oven and set them to the side to cool as you start to wash your dishes.

“Oh by the way, do you want any of the brownies?” You turn to Mingyu. “I mean you did help make them.”

“Oh I uh, I don’t like brownies that much,” Mingyu admits, flushing a bit.

“WHAT?! B-but you, you helped me lick the bowl!”

“I know, I know, and the batter was very good, but I’m just not a brownie person so I was gonna say no but you looked so cute asking so I said yes. I’m sorry,” Mingyu tells you.

“If you don’t like brownies why did you stay to help me make them?”

“Because I wanted a reason to spend more time with you,” Mingyu says. “Aish, that’s so embarrassing admitting out loud.”

“I-, I like spending time with you too Mingyu.”

The conversation between you and Mingyu tapers off there until you’re cutting the brownies and putting half on a plate for him. He looks confused when you place them into his hands.

“They’re for your roommates. Don’t think I don’t see their giant sweet tooths.”

Mingyu smiles at this. “You’re so sweet Y/N.”

You scoff. “It’s only because I think Seokmin is adorable.”

Mingyu makes an exaggerated shocked face and you laugh a bit before grabbing all of your things to haul back to your room. You and Mingyu walk the halls together towards your dorm, a comfortable quiet surrounding you.

You two stop in front of your respective doors when you get to them. Before you can fully walk into your dorm, Mingyu stops you.

“Thanks for letting me hang out with you tonight, it was nice to get my mind off of midterms for a second.”

You smile up at him. “Of course. I enjoyed it as well.”

“And before I lose my cool I’m going to ask you now – would you like to maybe do something like this again after midterms…maybe with coffee this time…?”

You can see the way Mingyu’s ears are tinting pink and you feel your own face starting to heat up. You hide your smile for a second but looking at your feet before looking back at Mingyu. “Are you asking me out on a date, Kim Mingyu?”

“And if I was?”

“Well then I guess I’ll have nothing to do but accept.” You grin up at him. “Tell Seokmin to enjoy those brownies now, okay?” You wink at the man before turning and walking to your dorm, leaving him to celebrate by himself in the hallway.

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#seventeen #seventeen fluff #seventeen fic #kim mingyu #mingyu fluff #mingyu fic #mingyu imagines #mingyu scenarios #mingyu x reader #svt mingyu #kpop #kpop fic #kpop fluff #rru.fics #★ sfw #rru.writes

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underburningstars · 11 months

Text

blood in coffee 14

(Part 1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10,11,12,13,14,15,16,17,18,19,20,21,22,23,24,25,26,27,28,29,30,31)

for @jegulus-microfic prompt forest, wc 187

Regulus is curled over a book in his bed when he hears his front door open. Then immediately, he’s hit with the heady scent of James. His head snaps up and he pushes the book away. He scrambles to get up and almost runs to James.

“What are you–” But James doesn’t let him finish. He pulls Regulus in an aggressive kiss after muttering an angry ‘shut up’.

The kiss almost feels like a fight. Regulus could easily overpower James but instead, he melts against the drag of James’ lips and the press of his fingers.

James’ kisses trail down to his jaw to his neck, where he nuzzles and sighs, “You smell good. It’s annoying.”

Regulus runs his fingers through James’ hair. God help him, he has missed James so much. “Why is it annoying?”

“I’m supposed to be angry with you,” James mumbles against the skin of his neck. “I can’t do that when you smell like the forest after rainfall.”

They are comfortably silent in each other’s embrace before Regulus breaks it. “I’m sorry,” He whispers into James’ hair.

“Don’t do it again.”

“Promise.”

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ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused · 2 years

Text

༉‧₊˚. 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡 𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐛 || 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

― pairing: spencer reid x plus size!reader

― summary: after a case involving an old childhood bully, you began to question everything you've ever worked for, but that's nothing a little reassurance from the good doctor can't fix.

― warnings: oral sex (fem rec.), vaginal fingering, exhibitionism, head in the jet bathrooms (lord), spencer has long hair, man ponytail spence, quiet "sex." hurt/comfort, mentions of kidnapping, murder, violence, bullying, hostage situations, and weapons.

― wc: 2403

⋆ a/n: this is the first ever fanfiction i wrote and uploaded to ao3. i don't know why i made it so long lmfao. yeah, i googled the term whiplash, sue me. this has already been posted to ao3.

masterlist | AO3

You wish what you wanted wasn't inappropriate. That it didn't totally go against everything that you stood for as a person. Morally, you were always correct, but in this certain situation, the lines began to get blurred between your self-control and your burning desire for the genius on your team.

Your body bursts into flames whenever you saw him; when he had his glasses perched onto his nose, a file in his hand as his long and delicate fingers skimmed over the words, lighting grazing them. Even when the others thought his constant spewing of facts were annoying, you actually found it endearing, and quite the turn on. It was embarrassing really, how this man could simply just exist and you were ready to jump his bones.

Of course you doubted that he had held any sort of attraction for you. He's probably the most oblivious person you've ever met dispite his IQ of 187.

It was another case that was just as exhausting as the other, and not only that, it took place in your hometown. What made it worse was that you actually knew the person that was the murderer, which made you vital to the case. You could sense that everyone besides the team was side eyeing you, and you couldn't help but feel like an outcast. You were frustrated and tense, wanting nothing more than to have sleep swallow you whole.

The jet was quiet, almost everyone still asleep as you counted the stars in the dark sky that you could see from your window. The whole situation was overwhelming, no matter how many sympathetic words and tight hugs you had received, you were still bothered to no end. Eric was a part of your close friend group in highschool, but after a falling out, you were the only one that left. You had no idea that he and the others stayed close until you were called down to solve a double homicide and stalking situation.

You figured out that he still harbored feelings for your long time friend, Stacy. Of course as fate would have it —and highschool cliches— she got with the jock of your friend group, Ryan. They got married, but Eric was still as jealous and bitter as he was when he was seventeen. He chose to kill the couple and be on his way to kill the others that were left. You couldn't help but think about what if you were still friends with them, would he be after you too? You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, throwing the blanket that you had draped over you onto it as you made your way to the bathroom.

When you had gotten inside, you shut the door behind you, pressing your hands onto the cool counter in an attempt to ground yourself. You stared into the mirror to take in your disheveled form.

You watched as your highschool self formed right in front of your very eyes; your frizzy hair, pimpled face and braced teeth had all of a sudden reappeared, like a dream like fog. You still looked as tired as you did then, your eyes clouding with tears. Not only were you devastated about your old friends deaths, but it was also what Eric had said when he held another friend, Amanda, at gun point.

"Just because you got a fancy badge and gun doesn't mean you're still not the same brace face that nobody wanted."

You were embarrassed in front of your team, the media, as well as the other police officers at the scene.

As Eric was brought down to his knees and handcuffed, he walked past your glaring gaze with a smirk. You could've sworn that your finger that was pressed against the trigger twitched. You were the first one to have left, your skin burning in shame and your gut twisting in the most painful way possible. It hurt really, and now the after effects were sticking to you like glue. As if the insults that you get for being a bigger FBI was enough as it is, this was just the icing on the cake. You had worked so hard to move on from your past, but alas, it would always seem to find you.

Tears dripped down your face as a silent sob ripped through you. You just wanted to disappear. As your self wallowing continued, the bathroom door was opened scaring you and the person on the other side.

"Sorry!" Spencer squeaked, closing the door back up. "It's fine," You chuckled, "I wasn't doing anything anyway." You wiped your tears hastily before the man re-entered.

His faced quickly crumpled in concern, his eyebrows furrowing at the sight of your saddened facial features. "Why are you crying?" You waved your hand in an attempt to dismiss his question. He hesitated before speaking."Is this— is this about what happened earlier?" You let out a sigh. "Shut the door." And he did, closing it quietly behind him as he looked at you worriedly.

"It wasn't about the "brace face" comment. It was the fact that I had allowed myself to let him make me feel small. I worked so hard to get where I am, and it was like one word from him and all of it just came crumbling down." You ranted, tears threatening to come down once more.

In all of your years as an FBI agent, you had learned to not let such crude words get to you knowing that it was a part of your job that wasn't going to go away anytime soon. Everyone on your team has heard their fair share of insults from bitter UnSubs, and they're always just ignored and not thought twice about until it included someone close to them.

"You know that everything he said wasn't true, right?" Spencer asked, his tone soft and reassuring. Even though he phrased it like a question, it was more like he was telling you, causing your stomach to twist around with butterflies. "I know, I just—" You groaned, your back against the counter where the sink was at, your face held in your hands. You felt him step in front of you, soft but skinny hands placing themselves on your wrist to stop them from covering your face.

"If it's it uh—" He cleared his throat, "If it's any consolation, I think you're absolutely gorgeous." He said bravely, his voice holding unforseen confidence. You blinked rapidly, swallowing your spit nervously as he leaned closer to you. You could see it in his eyes that he was afraid that he read the room wrong, but you didn't hesitate, grabbing him by his orange tie and pulling him closer against you.

He was now gripping the counter, his head tilted to the side as his lips barely brushed again yours.

"You mean it?" You asked, staring up at him. It was his turn to be rendered speechless, but he nodded his head. You smiled sweetly, raising a hand up to tuck some of his long hair behind his ear. He trembled slightly at your touch, the skin of his ears and the back of his neck flushing a deep red. You held him in a strong gaze as you made your demand.

"Lock the door."

All he had to do was lean over and the locked snapped, signaling that you were both now in here together. You locked your fingers in his hair and pulled him into a kiss, Spencer cradling your face. He was an excellent kisser even though he was slightly hesitant, being a gentleman as always. His hands were respectful even though you can tell they wanted to explore more of your curvaceous body that were filled in all the right places.

You took his hands off of your face and placed them on your ass, your hands giving him an encouraging squeeze around the fat. He groaned in surprise, but opting to throw all caution to the wind once you had took the initiative to show him that it was okay. Your threaded your digits through his luscious locks until he bent downward a bit, his lips separating from yours for only a split second to haul you onto the marble. You let out a quiet squeak that he only chuckled at.

He kissed down your neck, hands touching all over you until they reached your spread thighs, opening them wider so he could step in between them. He wrapped them around his tiny waist, his lips continuing their assault.

"Spence. . ." You breathed. "Yeah?" He mumbled, lips kissing down to your breast. His voice was muffled by the fabric of your shirt but he was still alert. "Are you sure you want to do this here?" You asked. With the way his needy hands were going and the fact that the belt on your dress pants were undone , it was looking like he was about to finger you at the least. He looked up at you, holding your face in his hands again.

"I want to show you how beautiful you are to me, but if you'd rather wait, maybe until I take you on a date—" You cut off his rambling with a peck, "No need, just make sure to be quiet." You winked at him. He smiled sheepishly shrugging off his grey vest before falling to his knees so that he was faced with your clothed crotch. Your body was keening at the sight of the tall man in front of you, the supposed genius now reduced to nothing more than a mouth. It was hot how he looked at you with so much admiration, like you were his goddess to worship.

You stared down at him, running your fingers through his long hair, biting your lip.

"Can you—" He gulped. "Can you please lift your hips?" His shaky fingers were tucked into the band of your pants, pupils blown out and and pleading. You did as he asked to make the process of him stripping you of your lower half easier. You were now bare and open to him, legs spread with your glistening sex clenching around nothing. He gulped at the sight of your drenched cunt, his tongue peeking out to wet his lips before leaned forward, his tongue licking a bold stripe up your folds that caused you to bite your lip.

"Wait." You paused. "What?" He asked, his voice gravelly as he watched you reach up into your hair to pull out your hair tie. Even though your locks fell around your face, you gestured for him to lean up a bit. "C'mere," You beckoned. You then went around his head, collecting his hair gently before tying it back so that none of it got in his way.

"There you go." You said, sounding pleased with yourself. "Thank you." He blushed. His gratitude was short lived as he leaned forward once more, throwing both of your legs over his shoulders so that he was suffocated by your large thighs. You held onto his ponytail, trying your best not to tug on the thing too hard. As he suckled on your clit, he watched as you slapped a hand over your mouth, harsh breaths coming out of you as your legs tightened around his head.

Your chest was heaving as Spencer's nails dug into the skin of your thighs in an attempt to keep himself grounded. You were barely holding on, his inexperienced tongue searching desperately to see what you liked, what got you off, his dough eye's peering up at you to study your reactions. He mentally took notes of what made you twitch and gasp, what made you tremble and tighten as your hand clamped harder around your mouth in an attempt to keep yourself from being too loud.

You almost screamed when one of his fingers joined his attack, his middle finger curling against the spongy padding of your g-spot. You began to shake, your juices dripping down his chin, almost soaking the collar of his dress shirt as he brought you closer to a mind blowing orgasm. It didn't take long for you to cum once his ring finger breached you as well.

Your jaw went slack, your back arching and your hand slipped from off of your mouth. He pulled away from your now weeping opening, his chest heaving and strands of his hair sticking out from under the elastic of the band. He looked more destroyed than you in a humorous way.

"Wow..." You giggled, sitting up in order to stretch your back. He shakily got up, his knees slightly aching from sitting on them for so long. You pulled him into you, releasing his hair from the band and massaging his scalp. His hands placed themselves onto your naked and splayed out thighs, hands warming at the feeling of your soft skin.

"Did I— did I do good?" Even though he whispered it, it still made you smile endearingly. "You did great, Doctor." You teased as he smiled softly. Embarrassingly enough, he reached over a bit to grab some toilet paper in order to wipe his mouth from your release. Your face flushed as he dropped the soiled paper into the toilet next to the both of you.

"We should get out of here, don't you think?" You brought up, which prompted him to grab your pants and underwear in a hurry. "Right, right." He agreed, helping you off the counter and assisting you in getting your clothes on.

Before you two left, he pulled you into him by your waist.

"Would like to go on a date?" There was that same confidence again. "Of course, Spence. And what's with you and this duality? It's giving me whiplash." You chuckled, throwing your arms around his neck. "Actually, whiplash is an injury caused by a severe jerk to the head, typically in a motor-vehicle accident—" You cut him off with a peck, "I know, I was being sarcastic." You sighed, but there was no irritation behind it. He smiled sheepishly, "Sorry."

He made sure to sneak you out first, flushing the toilet to ensure his ruse. You found yourself chuckling at his extremities, but nonetheless was satisfied as he took a seat next to you. He pulled the blanket over the both of you as his hand met yours, interlacing your fingers together before dozing off on your shoulder.

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luvvsoft · 1 year

Text

ᰔᩚ zhongli x reader, zhongli x guizhong, pining, angst

wc: 187 words

part 2, alternative ending

someday, you would stop falling in love.

that’s what you always told yourself, yet you allowed yourself to dream; to hope for more than you could ever have.

despite all the wrongdoings done by those you had come to care for, your desire for love hadn’t wavered. you were truly a hopeless romantic, no matter how much you kicked yourself for it.

zhongli was beautiful, dare you say ethereal. his eyes shined as if they were the brightest in the galaxy, how you longed for him to set his gaze on you. you knew that would never happen, especially since he had set his eyes on her.

they were always together, every single little thing was done by each other’s side. it seemed the universe was mocking you, laughing at your moments of misery.

they were happy in each other’s arms, you were no one to crush that happiness. though, in the darkest of nights, you cursed yourself for not having the courage to speak to him. you wished he had noticed you before he did her.

you had been waiting for him to fall for you.

#genshin x reader #genshin impact #zhongli x reader #zhongli #genshin impact angst #guizhong

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little-svt · 2 years

Text

GENDER-NEUTRAL | FLUFF

Wc: 845

Taglist: @sweetiehyuka @pastel-princess-please @kiki-woo @fishsquishh

Yum Yum

“Oh my god, that’s potent!”, you coughed, covering your nose with your sleeve as you latched your apartment door behind you. You could already hear your boyfriends deep chuckle, taunting you from the kitchen. Unloading your bag onto the sofa and kicking off your shoes, you reluctantly wandered into the kitchen to find your favorite sight;

Your 187 cm boyfriend, giddily cooking up something in his silly, frilly apron you’d gotten him for your anniversary.

“Is it edible?”, you asked, peaking around at the large bowl of spice loaded kimchi Mingyu was prepping in front of him.

“I was craving extra spicy, this time.”, he giggled, pulling a piece from the bowl and teasing you with it. The way you flinched backwards made him laugh even hard. You only wanted to get hit in the eye with chili exactly zero times.

“Not even one little nibble?”, he pouted obnoxiously, knowing his puppy look could easily coax you into eating out of his hand even if it was pure garbage he was offering. Though, it never was. That was one of your favorite things about him and he about you. The way he would cook and feed you, the way you ate anything he made happily. It was a perfect five and take love language that time had developed for you.

Groaning you stopped your squabbling and squinted your eyes shut, preparing for the heat of the spices to hit your tongue as you allowed him to hand feed you a crisp piece of fresh kimchi. When Mingyu said spicy… he meant spicy. Though you tried to fight it off and chew gratefully, you weren’t prepared for the heat this man’s pallet craved.

“Good?”, he asked, tilting his head, a lock of wavy hair falling away from his face as he patiently and expectantly awaited your answer.

“Mhmmmnngggg”, your muffled agreeing was completely transparent as he tried not to laugh again, fetching you a glass of milk to wash it down.

“Are you okay, baby?”, he grinned, rubbing your back as he placed the cold glass in your hands to be gulped down in seconds.

“You tried to kill me!”, you yelped, slapping his arm, all the more amusing to him.

“Hmph.”, he pouted once more, turning back to his bowl and mixing it again thoroughly with his gloved hands. Of course you didn’t really mean it. And neither did he. But you still let him sway you with that stupid pout of his. Sliding your arms around his waist as he mixed, you pressed your face into the wide, firm plane of his back.

“It wasn’t that bad.”, you mumbled.

“What was that? I couldn’t hear you.”, he feigned stubbornly as if you couldn’t feel his diaphragm shake his chest with each silent chuckle.

“I SAID IT WASN’T BAD!“, you turned your face to scream into his back, most of the noise being absorbed.

“Oh! You said it needs more spice.”, he chortled, “Why didn’t you just say so, cutie?”

Rolling your eyes, you hopped onto the empty space on the counter and kicked your feet while peaking over the pots that were simmering on the stove since it was quite clear the kimchi was far too spicy for you. Finally catching a whiff from the steaming pots your tummy growled loudly and you frowned, fidgeting hangrily in your spot. After not eating since breakfast and enduring a long day of work, you longed for anything to fill your tummy. Mingyu was oblivious sometimes but it didn’t take a genius to notice.

“Hungry, baby?”, he chuckled, taking a small bowl and pouring a bit of broth from one of the pans into it. Taking another piece of kimchi from hell, he swished it quickly through the broth and offered it to you again. Making a face you turned your cheek and growled. Though it was meant to be menacing, he found it cute and endearing, hangry wasn’t a new emotion of yours.

“Heyyy… it won’t be so spicy this time!”, he assured you, waving it in front of your face, “I don’t like it when my puppy’s grumpy with me… or you can just bite me instead.”

As he lowered his hand you gave in, turning your head again toward him and squeezed your eyes shut tightly.

“Ahh~”, you opened your mouth, your nose scrunching and twitching as you awaited the awful spice you’d experienced before. With a smirk he fed it to you and waited, watching your scrunched up face relax as you realized it was just as he’d said.

“Daddy more?”, you asked, bouncing lightly on the counter at receiving something yummy to fill your aching stomach.

“Go wash up and I’ll have it ready.”, he clicked his tongue teasingly, always perking up a little at the appearance of his baby.

“But I’m hungry!”, you whined, eyeing the suddenly appealing kimchi he’d finished mixing.

“One more and then you have to go wash up for me, okay?”, he pecked your nose and then your cheek, helping you off the counter.

“Ahh!”, you opened your mouth again, content when you received another piece of rinsed kimchi and went on your way to clean up for dinner.

🧸Endnote: why’s the theme giving Christmas XD today is cg Mingyu hahah. Short and cute (the opposite of Mingyu/j with love) I’ve been watching Kdramas lately with an extra dose of disassociating so writing has not been the top of my activity list but I’d been meaning to get to Caregiver Mingyu for a while. I see him mainly as a little but I can definitely see both. He’s just a big emotional and sweet puppy either way. Also this would def not be super realistic since fresh rinsed kimchi would legit basically be just cabbage flavored ~ 🐶🐰🍓

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hannibals-favourite-meal · 5 months

Text

.⋆｡You And Him｡⋆.

Aaron Hotchner x plus size reader

Calls from Jack were precious so Hotch was more than okay with you answering them

Warnings: fluff, thoughts on the future

WC: 579

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

There was a certain order of events that always transpired on the jet ride home after a case was done; A round of teas and coffees would be brewed by Rossi (who claimed no one knew how to do it properly), Derek would don a pair of headphones that should have been thrown out years ago and play obnoxiously loud music, JJ would take a much-deserved nap, Emily had a habit of reading cheesy romance novels while Spencer played chess against himself. And Hotch called home.

Hearing his boy’s voice or even just his breathing while he slept, calmed his anxiety down to almost nothing. It soothed him more than he could ever say out loud.

A smile pulled at his lips as Aaron’s phone lit up with his former sister-in-law’s name. He didn’t even bother glancing around the cabin to check if anyone was watching as he answered the call.

“Hey buddy.” The typical heavy breathing of a child filled his ears before there was a soft hiccup.

“Hi dad.” Hotch’s brow scrunched in concern and pressed the device closer to his skin, as if he could impart some comfort onto his son through the screen.

“What’s wrong?” Across the table from him, your eyes snapped up from your report, your attention now solely focused on him.

“Is um, is Y/N there?” Immediately, Aaron sagged into the airplane seat, his smile returning tenfold. Your relationship was fresh, still filled with the anxiety and excitement of firsts as you explored each other. You were infinitely nervous when he had finally introduced you to Jack as his girlfriend and not just the colleague you had been before.

But just like he knew you would, you and his son were thick as thieves and evidently, that carried over into when you were away for work. “Yeah buddy, she’s sitting right in front of me.” Your breath hitched and he knew that heat was now crawling up your neck.

“Can I talk to her? Please?” His heart melted at Jack’s sincere plea. He would never deny his son, especially not when it came to this.

“Of course.” Your head was tilted in confusion until Aaron pulled the phone from his ear and held it to you. “It’s for you.”

Your beaming smile lit up the whole cabin as you practically snatched the device from his hand, cradling it to your ear as if you were holding a baby bird. “Jack?”

Aaron couldn’t hear his response over the roar of the airplane’s engine but it wouldn’t have mattered anyway because as soon as you sunk back into your seat, your eyes sparkling with love, he became lost in his fantasies.

He could see you clear as day, standing in front of him in a white dress, glowing in that way you did when you were overwhelmingly happy. Jack would be between you, both as your man of honour and his best man, unable to choose which side he wanted to stand on. Maybe there would even be another little Hotchner in the crowd with your eyes and Aaron’s dimples.

Possibly even two of them, or three.

Your quiet giggles made his heart skip a beat and Aaron thought that he didn’t mind if you took all his calls from Jack on the way home if it meant that he could hear your voice, unburdened by the depravity of the job.

He wondered if it was too early to start shopping for rings.

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greencways · 7 months

Text

- first day nerves

- wc: 1068

The first person you met walking through the BAU doors on a bright Monday morning was the tall blonde Media Liaison "Can I help you?" she asked calmly.

"Oh my name is Zooey Johnson, I'm supposed to start here today at the BAU" you smiled at her, it was weird, the moment you noticed her all your nerves were gone, you could definitely tell she was the glue of this group.

“Ohhh Zooey" she exclaimed "Hotch said we're having a new transfer called Johnson today, I'm Jennifer Jareau, JJ if you like, stick with me and you'll be fine" she smiled rubbing your arm.

"Thanks JJ" you sighed in relief "This place is a lot bigger than I thought" you chuckled nervously twisting your ring, JJ wasn't a profiler but she worked with people long enough to understand people and their habits, not wanting to call you out she changed the subject, something you were thankful for.

"Come on, I'll take you to meet everyone" She hooked her arm under your own.

"Thank you" you smiled, thankful that she would take time out of her day for someone to do that for you.

"Who is this?" A bright and bubbly blonde skipped over to you and hugged you tightly "JJ is this Zooey?"

"Yes Pen it is" JJ laughed "Zooey this is Penelope Garcia our technical analyst, she'll help you with anything and everything you need around here, she's a gem" JJ smiled, Penelope smiling brightly at you too.

"Ohhh you are a love" Penelope said as she examined you again, you looked over to JJ who shrugged which made you laugh a little bit.

"I was actually taking her to meet everyone, you wanna join?" JJ offered.

"Do I ever" Penelope exclaimed happily.

You walked into the bullpen and saw more people than you thought, it honestly was a little more than what you were expecting and it was a little much, JJ picked up on this and wrapped an arm around you and pulled you in for a quick side hug "You're gonna be fine" JJ whispered so only you could hear it, you turned your head to see her smirking at you, you smiled back.

"Hey lover girl" a man said walking over to you, Penelope, and JJ, he was tall and bald but there was something so attractive about him in the way that he presented himself "Who's this?" he asked Penelope.

"Oh I'm Zooey Johnson" you stuck out a hand for him to shake which he gladly took "Derek Morgan" he smiled.

"I was showing her around the BAU a little bit" Penelope winked at Derek, you smiled, you sensed that this was something they did a lot.

"You got it, I'll leave you three all alone now babygirl" he winked back, leaving Penelope all flustered which made you and JJ laugh.

"That down there is Spencer Reid, he's my best friend I've called him Spence since the first day I met him" JJ pointed to a tall brunette who had his head in a book, reading it someone, who was somewhat interested.

"He's a literal genius Zooey, he has an eidetic memory and an iq of 187" Penelope relayed the information to you like it was the best thing in the world, to her you could tell it was.

"Who's that?" You pointed to the other tall brunette standing over Spencer's shoulder reading the book.

"That's Elle Greenaway, her specialty is in sexual offence crimes" JJ said proudly.

You noticed another tall brunette walk up to Derek Morgan with a coffee cup in her hand, she stood next to him and started talking to him as she made herself coffee.

"Who-?" you questioned.

"That is Emily Prentiss, she's the Unit Chief, she hardly likes anyone so don't be surprised if she doesn't like you" Penelope stated as she walked away to talk to Derek

You looked at JJ stumped "I promise you Zo it's nothing personal, ever since she got broken up with a few months ago she's been like this" you nodded understanding very little.

"She never used to be like this" Elle said standing beside you.

"Everyone here seems so nice I don't understand why she wouldn't be" you sighed turning back to her, she noticed you staring and she scowled at you.

"My office. Now" Emily demanded.

"It's Elle right, I'm Zooey it's so great to meet you" you said sticking out your hand for Elle to take.

"It's nice to meet you too Zooey" she smiled.

"Is everything okay Prentiss?" you said unsure of what name to use, whether it will be a formal or an informal name.

"Emily is fine" she sighed, you nodded making your way over to her chair in front of her desk.

"I'm Zooey Johnson I'm supposed to start here at the BAU today" you smiled a little bit, she kept a straight face and stared at you, your smile dropped and you cleared your throat and slid over a bunch of papers "I have official paperwork, this is everything I need"

"I will tell you everything you need" she said in that same monotone voice.

"Oh okay" you said confused.

She inspected every single thing about you and your papers, it made you a little bit uncomfortable but you just figured it was a part of the process so you let it slide.

"Yeah okay, welcome to the BAU Zooey Johnson" she managed to crack a tiny smile as she shook your hand.

"Thank you Emily" you smiled.

"Hey" JJ smiled at you, as soon as you walked out of Emily's office, honestly it was nice to see a genuine smile from someone today "oh I forgot, that there is Aaron Hotchner, no one ever calls him Aaron though, everyone always calls him Hotch" JJ pointed to one of the two older men standing together, he was holding a stack of papers in his hand, "and that is David Rossi, he's wrote so many books" JJ nodded, your eyes widened in shock and she laughed "anyway I think that's everyone" she smiled.

"Thank you" you smiled.

"For what?" JJ replied confused.

"Just showing me around" you paused looking up at her "you didn't have to take time out of your day to do that I appreciate it so much" you smiled and she pulled you in for a hug.

"Anytime" she smiled.

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