#in fact idk what it's like to NOT doubt myself

[minswriting]

okayyy so…. been thinking about jesus reid with his cane lately and i was wondering if you could do a little blurb where spencer is having trouble…. finishing, maybe cuz of his leg (idk how that would work but like) and spencer’s getting all frustrated so coworker!reader offers to help him out and he’s all whiny n shit 🤭

nsfw | mdni

i can imagine this being like he rarely ever has any free time so he tries to get off when he takes a shower but standing for too long hurts his leg. so he went to work without being able to get off. i hope you guys enjoy!! this is fem!reader btw as all of my works are!

warnings: nsfw content, blowjob, female reader, whiny spencer

—————————-

when spencer came into work looking defeated, you immediately knew that something was wrong. you weren’t quite sure as to what it was. but as the genius doctor walked with his cane, you just assumed it was likely to be his leg bothering him. you had felt bad at the fact that he had been shot in the leg and was suffering through walking with a cane. and judging by the look on his face, the one of frustration and annoyance, you could tell it was most certainly his leg that was bothering him.

it was one of those rare days when there wasn’t a case and so the only work to do is paperwork or reading up on old case files. your desk was right next to spencer’s as you looked at your computer to check your emails. you glanced over at spencer, who was reading an old file. he was biting the inside of his cheek as his finger followed along the text, his hair falling to his cheeks. he looked tense and you couldn’t help but speak up.

“spence?” you asked, looking at the genius.

spencer looked up from the file to look at you. “yes?” he replied softly. his voice was usually soft spoken and you loved that about him.

“are you okay?” you asked with a concerned look in your eye. “you’ve seemed frustrated and annoyed all day,” you added.

spencer took a deep breath, stretching his arms. “i-i mean for the most part i am,” he exclaimed, “it’s just this damn leg. it’s been…a hassle really.”

“have you been elevating it?” you asked, tilting your head at your coworker.

“when i can,” he said with a small smile. your concern for him softened his frustrated demeanor. “it’s hard though, alone at home. especially because i have to do everything myself,” he said, licking his lips and running a hand through his hair. “i-uh barely have time to…take care of myself, and when i do, it hurts to stand on my leg for that long,” he whispered nervously, not knowing how you’d react to him.

“take care of yourself how?”

spencer’s cheeks reddened. “i uh you know what? it’s not appropriate, i’m sorry i mentioned anything at all. let’s just not talk about it, yeah?” he said, going back to looking at the file.

your eyes widened as you realized what spencer had meant. you quickly composed yourself, clearing your throat and going back to what you were doing. though with the redness of your own cheeks, it was obvious to tell that his words had some sort of effect on you.

the day went by without anymore conversation with you and spencer which bothered you a bit. it most certainly had felt awkward after that. though you couldn’t help but think about the idea of spencer trying to get himself off, jerking himself off. it was likely he did it most in the shower judging by how this job has early days and very late nights.

today, being the rare day that it was, everyone had gone home at 5:30 PM. when you had gone home, your thoughts were still on spencer. wet, long hair clinging to his skin as he leans on his bathroom wall, looking down at his cock, jerking himself off. you could imagine just how hard it was to stand that long on his leg, especially since you doubted he brought his cane into the shower with him.

around 8:00 PM, you decided it was time to be a good friend and help spencer with his issue.

you knocked on the door of spencer’s apartment. you stood there a bit anxiously, biting your lip as you waited for him to answer. you were wearing the clothes you had worn to work, a black pencil skirt and a red blouse. your hair was down. after a few minutes, you heard the tapping of spencer’s cane before it stopped and he opened the door. his eyes widened as he saw you, not expecting you to be at his apartment.

spencer was dressed in a pair of sweatpants and a FBI sweatshirt. you licked your lips nervously, looking at spencer. “oh!” he exclaimed. “y/n, what are you-“ he cleared his throat as he realized his voice was a bit too high. “what are you doing here?”

you took a deep breath. there was no backing down now. “can i come in?” you asked, looking at spencer. he moved to the side, allowing you to come into his apartment. you stepped inside and he closed the door behind you.

he walked over to the couch, taking a seat. you looked around the apartment before you turned to look at your coworker. “so,” you began. “when you told me, you’d been…struggling,” you continued, “i thought perhaps…i could help you.”

“w-what?” he stuttered, looking at you with his beautiful big brown eyes.

you walked over to spencer, your heels clicking on the wooden floor, before you kneels in front of him, between his legs. “i-i could help you if you let me,” you said softly, looking up at him. you put your hands on spencer’s thighs.

spencer licked his lips, looking down at you with a look you’ve not seen before. you could tell that your words had an effect on him, judging by the fact that he was already semi-hard in his sweatpants. “i-is this real?” he whispered.

you nodded your head. “yes,” you whispered back.

“i-if we do this, it’ll effect our whole dynamic,” he whispered, reaching a hand to move your hair out of your face.

you looked up at him, biting your lip. “i want you, spence,” you exclaimed softly. “and you need help. i want to help you,” you said as you moved your hand higher. you began palming him through his sweatpants, causing spencer to moan softly. “can i help you?”

spencer nodded his head, bucking his hips into your hand. “yes,” he said shakily. “please.”

you let out a breath of relief as spencer had given you. you put your hand on the hem of his sweatpants, pulling them down enough to reveal his cock. spencer let out a gasp from the cool air on his cock. it was red and angry, a signal that he hadn’t had relief in a while. his cock was long but not girthy. about seven inches or so in length. you smiled slightly, looking at spencer’s reddened face as he looked down at you.

you gave his cock an experimental tug, causing him to let out a small whimper. the sound was like heaven to your ears. the genius fbi profiler had been reduced to a whimpering mess by a simple tug of his cock. and it was powerful.

you lowered your head, giving the tip an experimental lick. spencer let out a shaky moan, bringing a hand to your hair. you slowly eased your mouth onto his length, stopping about halfway before going back up. your mouth moved up and down slowly, creating a rhythm as spencer whined and moaned, bucking his hips into your mouth.

it was all very new. you’ve of course done this before with other partners. but to do this with your coworker, someone you’ve had a crush on since you began at the BAU, it’s most certainly surreal. and clearly, spencer needed the help. so really you were just being a dedicated coworker.

“oh-oh fuck,” spencer moaned as you hollowed your cheeks, sucking his cock a bit faster. “feels so good,” he whined, closing his eyes in pleasure and throwing his head back. his fingers were entangled in your hair as you sucked him off, tugging at your hair gently. “mm!” he moaned. you hadn’t expected spencer to be so vocal but you didn’t mind it at all. it sent pools of arousal to your cunt, soaking your panties.

spencer began thrusting his hips into your mouth, unable to help himself from doing so and you allowed him to. what you were doing was for him. and if he wanted to use you for his pleasure, you were more than allowing him to do so. “oh my god,” he groaned, thrusting his hips up into you. “your mouth feels so good, y/n,” he said as he opened his eyes to look down at you. your messed up hair, your glistening eyes looking up at spencer, you were absolutely gorgeous.

spencer felt his cock stiffening as the heat in his abdomen grew bigger. he let out a loud trail of, “oh fuck, oh fuck, i’m so close, oh fuck.” he was about to pull out of your mouth but instead, you kept him in your mouth, sucking him off to completion. spencer let out a whine as he began cumming into your mouth with ropes. “oh my god,” he said, shuttering as his load shot down your throat. and being the good girl that you were, you swallowed greedily.

when spencer finished, you pulled off of his cock, leaving a trail of saliva and cum. spencer was breathing heavily, looking at you with a look of lust and gratefulness. he caressed your cheek, running a thumb across your bottom lip before bringing it up to his own mouth and licking it. “thank you,” he murmured to you, grabbing your hand to pull you onto his lap. you were careful to not hurt his leg at all.

“anytime,” you murmured back.

“i think i should show you how thankful i am,” he said before kissing your lips hungrily. and that kiss began a night of immense pleasure to the both of you.

it was safe to say that the two of you were no longer just coworkers anymore.

#minsasks #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds smut #spencer criminal minds #criminals minds x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid #spencer reid x fem!reader #🌸 — min’s asks #spencerasks

[starwikia]

suicide cw

look i have been in this area before mentally. it sucks and i wouldn’t wish this on anyone. but, and this is going to sound callous, but i don’t feel any sympathy for james somerton. even if i hope he’s like. not dead. But thats all the amount of goodwill im willing to give him. The more i think about this really, the more angry i am. 

ngl this entire situation is another example of how white people weaponize their mental illness to avoid consequences. Im seeing it in real time.

this man has a continuous habit of using self-harm as a get-out-of-jail-for-free card. in both of his apologies, he has worded his supposed attempts in ways that were clearly meant to guilt people who displayed his plagiarism and overall horrendous history of racism and misogyny. i say supposed because, while i’m not saying those are lies and this would he such a fucked up thing to lie about that i don’t want to think he has, unfortunately, it’s been proven again and again that his word can’t be trusted, as he’s known to lie to try get out of consequences. Hes a proven liar. him lying about this is actually the best case scenario, because no one should go through this entire situation, wouldnt wish this on anyone, but you can only do this so often before people stop sympathizing with you. is this callous? Yeah, but like. I’m actually fucking angry he cant straight up take no as an answer. that this is how he reacts realizing he cant be one of the Cool Kidz™️ on youtube anymore. he acts like he DESERVES a career, like its not a privilege hes lost due to his own actions.

He lied about apologizing and forgiving people, he lied about giving the money to hbomberguy to give to ppl he ripped off (yknow, instead of doing it himself), he lied about the jessie gender situation and rewrote the narrative to make it so he isnt the bad guy, and hes the victim all along actually!

you can’t tell me that supposed last message of his isn’t meant to be a 13 reasons why esq attempt to deflect the blame “look i’m going to kill myself and it’s all YOUR PEOPLES FAULT for not letting me achieve my DREAM of being filmmaker IN PEACE!!! I just wanted Nick’s (the guy who I have thrown under the bus again and again) portfolio up!! Im just being a good friend dont you all FEEL BAD” he refuses to take ANY ACCOUNTABILITY of any of his actions and he IS STILL trying to shove the blame over to other people again.

it’s also pretty ironic people are like “uhhh well hbomber’s fans harassed him!!!” like hbomber outright told people NOT to HARASS JAMES!!! ALSO acting as if james doesn’t have a very real documented history of STRAIGHT UP sending his fans to harass and threaten smaller creators, more notably women, trans, and bipoc creators. especially after he’s stolen typically very personal anecdotes so he could profit from them. so why can he do it but the second people are like “hey this guys an actual piece of shit.” and he can’t handle it suddenly people are trying to white knight his shit? like no he doesn’t get that. he doesn’t get that at all just because he couldn’t handle the consequences of his actions. 

what? were supposed to stay quiet about a man profiting off of other minorities because he wanted to be the spokesman for all gay people? people tried to solve this on a smaller, more private scales for YEARS and he kept doing it. it was clear that the giant public video was the ONLY way to get people to notice. HE WOULDVE GOTTEN AWAY WITH STEALING 87 FUCKING THOUSANDS WORTH OF DOLLARS. HE CANT HANDLE THE FACT HE CANT GET AWAY WITH IT. 

am i supposed to feel bad for the guy who basically threatened a trans woman with the police? i don’t care what anyone says, it’s so fucking obvious that he threatened jessie by implying he was getting the police involved in their conflict. what am i supposed to act like that didn’t happen? are we supposed to pretend like he didn’t glorify nazi’s and outright said that gay people made up a good chunk of the nazis? That he didnt say america joined ww2 bc they were jealous of the NAZIS. WHAT WOULD POSSESS YOU TO FUCKING SAY THAT. but then? He gives women (not even women most of the time, he misgenders nonbinary ppl constantly) shit for writing mlm. are we supposed to act like he doesn’t straight-up sees himself superior and better than people of color and steals their works to put himself on a pedestal? Are we supposed to act like he didnt spit on our elders by saying “only the boring gays survived aids” like man! Fuck you! He BLANTANTLY MAKES UP HISTORY TO PUT HIMSELF ON A PEDESTAL!! HE ACTIVELY TRIED TO REWRITE LGBT HISTORY TO SUIT HIS FUCKED UP NARRATIVES!

yes this sucks ! no one deserves this but no one should be making him a martyr. Thats what he fucking WANTS! He wants to be immortalized as a victim!! (again, supposedly, it was reported hes alive but its not confirmed).

The shit he got isnt near the amount of fucking callous behavior hes done again and again. Again, to drill this point, EVEN IF HE DIDNT CALL THE POLICE HE THREATENED A TRANS WOMAN INTO THINKING HE DID!!! The fact he tried to use a head injury to justify years of the outright ghoulish shit fucking astounds me. Why the fuck did anyone in his life thought it was a good idea to let him TRY to come back. in the end, he had options. he didn’t need to try to make a comeback. HE DIDNT NEED TO FUCKING LIE OR IGNORE THE SHIT HE WAS CALLED OUT ON the reality is, he wanted to come back thinking he could shove it under the rug, was told that no dude, you’re not allowed to be a youtuber anymore. you’re done. you need to move on and went full nuclear. it’s not on anyone’s hands but his own. HES BEEN DOING THIS TO HIMSELF!! But nah man we cant call his shit out bc hell may or may not kill himself. Fuck the other minorities who have the same issues but worse and sometimes BECAUSE of him. This is going to SUCKKKK so bad when other ppl, specifically white gays, are going to weaponize this shit to get away with their stuff.

#warning: do not read this post if you want me to be nice to james somerton. i am extremely mean in this post. #before anyone accuses me of shit i legit never contacted him myself or anyone involved. i am someone who witnessed this behavior repeatedly #again. i hope hes alive and well. the fact is him lying about this WOULD BE THE IDEAL SITUATION. BC NO ONE SHOULD GO THROUGH THAT. but. #he HAS to forever be the victim in his eyes. attempting doesnt automatically mean youre free of sin. #its just terrible to see that regardless whether or not he did do it #its very clear his attempts to run away from his consequences are working on some people #we need to acknowledge that if your shitty ex friend can weaponize a threat to kill themselves #so can this internet person after being called out for horrendous shit #like what was the alterative? what were people supposed to fucking do? be nice about it? #yeah as if poc and trans women arent historically given shit for being 'too mean' about wanting justice. #this isnt just the plagiarism this is the fact a white dude has been parading himself as THE speaker for the gays(tm) but has been using hi #gayness to shield himself from his misogyny racism transphobia and antisemitism #its very clear regardless this means that ppl r going to side with him and then give him benefit of doubt #if you cant handle the heat stay out of the fucking kitchen dude. this is the consequences of your fucking actions. #hes a disgusting person who cant handle being told no so hes going to drag everyone down with him #like. idk this entire situation is frustrating to me. #its also frustrating ppl trying to be moral abt it like 'see! i knew this was bad all along!' no you didnt. shut it. #for the record im like mainly talking abt twit watching those spineless uwu cutesy ppl basically saying hes done noting wrong #oh and also alt righters who are clearly weaponinizing this where u know they wouldnt give a shit if a right ytber did this. #james somerton #idk might delete this later its just. ugh...

[shadszyyx]

over the years ive noticed that a lot of fandom discourse is just people pointing out something that's part of a character's personality but sometimes exaggerating it a little bit bc why not, n then people getting mad at others for that n calling it "out of character"

#sorry if this post sounds so confusing #if i dont immediately write my thoughts like they sound in my head then ill quickly forget what i was gonna talk about #but anyways #some people will really go ''he would not fucking say that'' when in fact he has said/done that but it was like once #n when people have fun around the idea of that character doing more of that other people get mad n say its wrong #idk am i making any sense here???? #tbh i dont care bc i doubt anyone ever reads 100% of my posts n im just talking to myself here #i basically just made this post to say that lately ive been getting so tired of fandom spaces in general #and yeah i know fandoms are always like that theres always discourse n shit happening #but i kinda learned to not give a shit about anything anymore? #if a lot of people dislike a certain trope or type of character n constantly shit on other people for liking that im just like ''ok?'' #okay i dont know where im going with this anymore #post ends here

[astrxealis]

damn i never thought i'd get into stardew valley this much but here we are !! makes perfect sense tho

#⋯ ꒰ა starry thoughts ໒꒱ *·˚ #heyy this adds to my roster of games that actually have Evidence #gotta play more soulsborne legitimately soon so i have more evidence of my range LMFAO ... #i love how my. taste in games is really broad tbh! i'm willing to try anything out but i do uhh am less inclined to the more popular ones? #unless i get into them by way of. personal. or without outside influence #but if there's a certain something that makes me dislike a media yeah ... i do end up more indifferent tho. ultimately #i think sdv is another huge example of how me and lune really go all in when getting into smth #like terraria. but we end up forgetting about it pretty soon after. oops! #it depends tbh on how bored we are? how much we have to do. so yeah #xiv was That for a very long time bcs we didn't really have anything else uhh insert hashtag xiv was there for us when nobody was #aaa so thankful to xiv fr. idk. i think about what it has done for me sometimes and i get really emotional! #also funny how things connect. i got back into tumblr bcs of jjk and then connected w others mostly thru gi. and then twt thru a friend i #met thru a school event wholy thru chance. who got me back into twt where i connected with others thru ff(xiv) #and i find it fascinating how people make friends irl! i think its easy for me to feel that way 1. its just who i am lol its in my nature #2. im more of a bystander so. yeah. ez for me to study people and people-watch. idm that much tbh #it's funny... hmm interesting? a bit sad too. wnvr i want to. Take A Step Further. i end up not caring anymore LMFAOOO but tbh it's really #nice in the long run! my outlook on life is pretty weird tbh like uhh... idk. hard to explain. complex #whenever i face a problem i'm. absolutely confident i'll get over it. and unfortunately i feel like that... sense of confidence is rather ra #rare*? idk. and the fact i've always known (always!) i'd love myself no matter what. even if sometimes i would be really insecure. i never #truly hated myself and i sincerely doubt i ever will. but the fact i often suceed and rise from my failures that sometimes they don't feel #like failures doesn't mean that uhh i'll end up facing my downfall through. naive confidence? i try to be self-aware and do my best for no #regrets and it's fascinating how my values in life are shaped by my past. not just me. everyone. damn. i think the formative years of a #person are so goddamn fascinating and also i'm still unsure what i want for college but it's already fucking march HELP #anyway wow. i dont want to be too harsh on myself if the What If bad scenario/s end up happening but i'll really try my best #my aunts on my dad side both got into up diliman and i'll be damned if i don't. i know i can do it. i just gotta put in a ton of effort. #okay rambles bye bye #also i've been staying up until 3/4 ever since break LMFAOOO SDV HAS RUINED ME dw i'll be good again next week lmfao

[milkovski]

MICKEYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY 😭😭😭😭🤕🤕🤕🤕💗💗💗💗😭😭😭💕💕💕💕

#another intelligent thoughtful insightful post from Me #i did in fact just write like 600 words of sad mickey so im thinking about him and wailing and throwing myself against the walls about him #and whatnot #this 'write without thinking and not caring that each sentence is a masterpiece' shit straight up works #we have hit 10k 👍 #i think this is actually the longest thing ive ever written now #for school i never had to write a .. thesis (???) idk what that is and i know people (?) have to write one to get their degree ...? #i didnt have to do that ...? #i also have never written a research paper despite doing research lol #for work i have to write documents but i doubt that any one of them is over 10k by itself #wait jk i just checked my ff dot net account and i have a wip from 2010 thats 19k #wow 2010 me how the fuck #this is a feat im no longer capable of #10 chapters #just looked at the first chapter and am kind of shocked that i didnt understand commas #its quite terrible #2010 me you little idiot (fond) #me clicking post with my overly bejeweled manicured hand a la that g/wen s/tefani (...?) gif #edit i searched it up its c/hristina a/guilera

[feydfuckernation]

going for a VERY niche audience with this one but just...hear me out

#i am once again blogging to myself but idc #this is too important for me to try and think about before i forget #again vito corleone is a better more respectable man than logan roy ever will be #but i think there's smthn here...i really do #they're equal but opposite in every way (logan vs don corleone) except for when they're very similar (fredo vs the waiter) #both vito and logan don't want their sons to take over but for very different reasons #ik the succ fandom likes to joke abt how kendall is a murderer but he's really not #so in that sense they're also different since michael explicitly had fredo killed #whereas the waiter was literally just an accident n the crime had more to do with the fact that kendall fled the scene (in a state of shock) #but there's still a lot of guilt there #also vito actually loved his son whereas logan...idk i think he has some fucked up love for his children but it's so...not good lmao #he's a terrible father who has done terrible things #vito has also done terrible things #probably even moreso than logan #like yeah the coverup with cruises was Bad(tm) but as far as we know logan has not deliberately had anyone killed #but vito has some semblance of honour that dictates a lot of what he does and why #uGH I HAVE SO MANY THOUGHTS THAT I CAN'T FULLY ARTICULATE BECAUSE I OPENED PANDORA'S BOX W THIS ONE #I JUST #aAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA #idk maybe i'll try hammering it out again later #meta tag ig #succession #the godfather #i don't think i have any succession mutuals and i SERIOUSLY doubt i have succession AND godfather mutuals but if ur out there.......

[vagueiish]

if anyone has any examples of 30-something+ near/full NEETs eventually doing something worthwhile with their lives, that'd be greatly appreciated

#well meaning people give examples of people who didnt become famous til they were older #'harrison ford was like 40 when he started acting :)' #yeah and he had had a p good career as a carpenter up til then #he didnt have to claw his way out of the swamp of worthlessness. he was already somebody just in a different direction #all those fucking quote unquote late bloomers werent actually late bloomers #theyd just either bloomed somewhere else and managed to transplant themselves #or theyd already bloomed - even if just a little - and it took a while for them to bloom to such an extent that people cared #here i am at *coughcpugh* years old still in the fuckin seed packet bro #college drop out with no job skills. working a mindless skillless directionless retail job #a job i didnt get til i was almost 30 mind you. my v first job #one id been turned down for before but thanks covid! for lowering the hiring standards at (retail job) i guess #the swcond best time to plant a tree is now i guess #but the potential of blooming twenty fucking years from now doesnt help me now. especially considering all the ways shit could hit the fan #im still marveling at the fact i didnt have a job til a few years ago. lmao what a fuckin loser #it wasnt without trying. and tbf 18 through my 20s was....a lot of caretaking of family #but thats no excuse? people find ways to do both #anyway. yeah. it'd be nice to see that other people managed to climb their way out of the same-ish hole i gind myself in #but i doubt it 🙃 #everyone on here is like.... artistically skilled. or do shit with computers. or like.... are valued members of their friend groups #people are like 'youre not alone!' but idk man. i think im the only person who has been *this* worthless #to the void with love

[thursdayg1rl]

still in shambles over maths

#literally can't stop looking at that a on the website #I feel like one day I'll look closely and realise it was a b idek I cannot believe this #don't even like. feel proud of myself im just shocked #maybe smth about it being online makes it feel fake. if it was a piece of paper I'd believe it more lmao #and the fact that I didn't even know the result would be posted and just happened upon it yesterday.. #its so weird its literally like the tiniest fucking character on the screen you'd think they'd make the grade bigger but no #this entire thing feels surreal #lmso when I found it I just screamed at my sister that I got an a and she thought I was joking #literally crazy. if this is how im reacting now idk what's going to happen on results day #gonna be real I don't think im going to sleep at all on the day #my sleeping is the worst its ever been in my life im regularly staying up past 3 and even then have to force myself to sleep #so I doubt im going to be able to . and then I'll have to wake up before 8 as well and im not ready to do that tbh #so yeah all nighter that's probably like a rite of passage at this point

[yok00k]

coming down

pairing: non-idoloc! x idol!jk

genre: angst

“i always want you when i’m coming down”

sypnosis: although you sleep next to jungkook every single night, it feels like you’re million miles away from him.

wordcount: around 1,000

warning: in 1st pov, it’s a little sad (for me), open ended ending, one sided love, allusion of cheating, oc’s world revolves around jk (don’t be like her)(lowkey im her), toxic relationship, lack of communication

author’s note: this did not go as I initially planned help-_- i was gonna make light jealousy oc/jk drabble idk how I ended up with this. i hope yall sob w/ me or lmk ur thoughts

an absolute ideal.

his performance. the concept. the way he sang his new released songs flawlessly. how smooth his dancing movements were. how the stage composition and development were so sumptuous.

and most importantly, how romantic the live performance was, given the fact that there was an actress involved in the show.

calling Jungkook an amazing artist would be an understatement. He’s creative, unique, and original in his masterpieces. Everything he does, no matter what, is just mesmerizing and astounding. He’s indeed a true performer.

Jungkook dedicated several months to work on his solo album. The time and effort he had put to his work is just admirable. On most days, he stays up late, trying to come up with so many possible ideas and options he can add on his album.

and I was there by his side. I chose to be.

I was there, waiting for him to come home every single night, or usually midnight, in our noiseless living room, wrapped with a thick blanket and loneliness. He would arrive home, but as night by night goes, I was accompanied by nothing but solitude. it feels like it’s taking over me.

I was there, in bad days where Jungkook is focusing on the negatives and having doubts in himself. Days where his standards for himself weren’t being met. both of my shoulders were closely next to him if he needed something to lean into. Reminding him that it’s okay and he’s doing wonderful.

I was there, even in times when he didn't want or need me to be there. times where he just wanted to be by his own with no distraction. but here I am, continuously showing him my undying love and support for him.

I chose to stay there. on nights where he stopped saying “i love you” back before going to dreamland. I hugged him closer as I convinced myself to believe that he just didn’t feel like saying those three words at those moment because of all the stress he undergoes through day to day.

I gave all of myself, I’ve done my part as his other half. Just like how Jungkook produces his works, I poured all my love and time to him, leaving not a thing for myself. It sounds foolish, but that’s just how I love

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

we’re both lying on the massive bed, only inches apart from one another’s body yet it feels like he’s millions of miles away from me as I stare at his cold, broad back that’s facing me.

I’ve got to used to this upsetting scenario at this point but that doesn’t mean it hurt less.

The whole bedroom feels chilly. I’m freezing, solely due to the fact that his warm arms weren’t wrapped around me like they used to be. as i’m not hearing his snores, I know that he’s still awake

“Do you still love me?” I manage to ask out loud and clear, immediately regretting the words that came out of my mouth even though it’s simply an inquiry.

a question that’s been going around my head for quite some time now. a question that i’m afraid to know the answer to because his response might be the response my heart doesn’t wish to hear or else it will shatter into millions of pieces.

my hope for an answer rapidly decreased as seconds went by filled with silence. The absence of noise that surrounded me was deafening; abundantly mocked the emotions I was feeling at the moment, screaming at me that my feelings didn't matter.

It's alright.

I did nothing but wipe the single tear that uncontrollably rolled down my cheek.

it’s stupid. I should’ve just kept it to myself. maybe that would be less embarrassing. less problematic. less painful than I was feeling minutes ago.

I turned my back against his as I accepted my defeat. maybe I’m just tired. maybe drifting to sleep will make me feel okay although I know deep inside that I won’t take the pain away. this is not some type of feeling i’m unfamiliar with to begin with.

I shut my eyes, as I try to put myself to sleep. but in that process, i felt his body moving, turning around, and finally snakes his warm arms around me. a pair of arms, the same ones I longed for so many nights.

“____, why would you ask that?” he giggly asked, sounding like he just heard a silly question. as if i was just being clingy and wanted some piece of his attention.

‘because i don’t feel like you love me anymore’

the man waited for a response, waiting to see if I was just fooling around or that was really genuine. the noiselessness, just like all times, answers the question we both interrogate to each other.

the heavy feelings just got worse, if not heavier. even so when he talks more. “i won’t be laying next to you if i wasn’t.” as if that makes me feel better.

indeed, he’s physically here by my side yet distant. Jungkook is so far off that I’ve lost him. numbness was all I felt as I heard his words. I couldn’t be more content now that I have my answers.

his indirect answer to a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ question is enough for me to know where we stand.

I can’t help but to turn my body to face him, just to stare at his doe eyes that I easily get lost in due to the fact that they hold thousands of stars, if not a whole world in them.

regretfully, my eyes should’ve just maintained contact with doe-like eyelids. but rather, they drop their focus on the side of his neck, detecting a foreign lipstick shade that he might have forgotten to wipe off. a shade that will be tattooed in my brain and will forever hate.

Inhale. Exhale. I chose to shrug it off, bringing my attention back to his worn out face.

“I love you” truthfully and whole-heartedly confessed to him once more just like I always do. although this was a little bit different because I don’t expect him to say it back anymore.

and with that in mind, this was also the last night that I will to express my love for him.

#jungkook fanfiction #jungkook fic #jungkook imagine #jungkook x reader #jungkookxreader #jungkook angst #jungkook ff #jjk angst #bts angst #bts ff #jeon jk #jungkook #bts jk #angst #emocore

[spacerockfloater]

Why the fuck does Laena Velaryon, who is canonically younger than Rhaenyra Targaryen in the show, look like a fucking 20-year-old in episode 5 while Rhaenyra, her elder, still looks fucking 13? Why the actual fuck did they change the YOUNGER girl’s actress and made her look older, but it’s okay for Rhaenyra to continue looking like a preteen? I’ll tell you why.

They’re trying to distract us from the fact that creepy ass Daemon is courting a 14-year-old. A FOURTEEN YEAR OLD. Rhaenyra is 15 in episode 1 and Laena is 12, meaning they have a 3 year age gap. Then, Viserys tells Rhaenyra that she must marry since she’s 17 now, making Laena 14, maybe 15 at best. So they obviously can’t afford having Daemon thirst over a child again, therefore this is a shitty attempt to cover up the fact that Laena still is a very fucking young child.

HBO what is this? Why do your casting choices indicate that you’re trying to use some kind of ageist technique to manipulate your viewers? Why are the supposedly good guys, Rhaenyra and her children, portrayed by very young actors? Is this to show how innocent and pure they are? Why are the characters who are supposedly evil, Aegon and Aemond, or the character for whom we shouldn’t worry too much about since she’s just a tool for Daemon’s story line to develop, Laena, portrayed by obviously older actors even though they’re all supposed to be kids? Because the youth = good people and old = bad people analogy is fucking gross and lowkey paedophilic. Not to mention how weird it is to make all the black girls in the show look like fucking grown ups. What kind of racist bullshit is this?

I can’t understand HBO’s decisionmaking for the love of me. Like, on the one hand, it’s so obvious that they’re forcing Daemon and Rhaenyra down our throats, to the point that I actually laughed out loud when the show runner said “he doesn’t get why people like Daemon”. Like, my guy, you MADE the show. You made him look like an appealing, dangerous, sexy, strong, victorious and mysterious man, so what do you mean you don’t get the appeal? On the other hand though, most of the actions that they allow Daemon to perform are so horrifying that it makes it impossible for a sane person to stand beside him and defend him. Like, they try to sugarcoat that he’s an abusive piece of shit yeah, but they somehow don’t shy away from the fact that he’s terrible? Are they doing both of these things on purpose? Are they trying to challenge the viewer, to show us how abusers, despite being openly deranged, still have their way of dazzling their victims, the average person, and hypnotising them with their charm? Is Daemon doing to us (and by us I mean you Daemon stans, not me, stay safe though) what he’s doing to Rhaenyra and Laena? Are the show producers testing the average viewer’s intelligence and ability to recognise an abuser? Will there be a lesson to be learned?

I would like to hope so but I highly doubt it, because while one could support this theory by arguing that changing Laena’s actress is an attempt to mask Daemon’s degenerative nature a bit so that it isn’t completely obvious that he’s a bad man, someone else could counter this argument by saying that we’ve already seen Daemon groom a minor so this wouldn’t be something new. We’ve seen him do much more violent crimes actually, so why shy away from the fact he’s a groomer when we are already aware of this? Idk man, I really want to think that HBO is trying to make us see that Daemon is an evil person, but then indirectly glorifying him constantly makes me believe they just want people to root for him.

P.S. I may anger a lot of people by saying this, so I’ll make myself clear by stating that I love and greatly respect actors who specialise in portraying evil characters, because doing so and not losing yourself is a challenge (*cough* Leto *cough*) but if done correctly, it’s a true showcase of one’s talent and hard work. Lee, De Niro, Hopkins, Bardem and Rickman are just a few to name. However, Matt Smith has never rubbed me the right way. No hate to the guy, I don’t even know him, but I’ve seen him play the villain in three separate occasions (HOTD, Last Night in Soho, Morbius) and I just get these weird vibes, but I usually told myself it’s just my imagination running wild. However, I recently found out that Smith claimed that Daemon is a loyal man who loves deeply and that his “heir for a day” brothel feast was his way of honouring Aema, which really disturbed me for obvious reasons. I don’t know if he said this because he’s trying to defend his character and by extension himself, or if he just wants to promote the show, or if he doesn’t understand Daemon or if he funnily enough has fallen victim to his own character’s charm and I don’t care because it is a dangerous thing to say. Painting this character, the arrogant, obnoxious, self serving, people slaughtering, wife murdering, backstabbing, abusing, grooming, lying, manipulating, war criminal of a man, in such a positive light while being a man yourself, knowing that most of this character’s supporters are young impressionable women who just find him hot, makes me lowkey wanna cover my drink in his presence, I don’t know.

#hbo #hbo max #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd critical #house targaryen #house velaryon #anti rhaenyra targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen #laena velaryon #anti daemon targaryen #anti daemyra #ageism #matt smith #anti targ stans #anti targ restoration #pro team green #team green #anti team black

[normansnt]

The prince pt.4

For @skyxqueen8 (:

Sorry it might be a bit short sorry for that but I think its good lemme know how you like it also SORRY FOR THE LONG WAIT IMMA TRY AND BE FASTER🫡

Warnings: reader gets beaten up, mentions of Alastor torturing

"Alastor I'll be fine, I truly don't want to bother you I see you're busy."

You tried your best to convince Alastor to let you go out alone. Now, usually he would, of course he knew how powerful you were you are the prince of hell after all, the fact that you don't like to use your powers doesn't hinder you much you use them when you're in danger.

But there have been headlines about you two dating. Vox's doing no doubt, and with the amount of people that Alastor managed to piss off during his years in hell it's really not safe for you out there.

"My dear, how could I ever be busy for you?" He asked baffled as he took a hold of your hand to stop you from leaving.

You turned around and gave him a quick kiss on his lips.

"My love, I will be just fine I can handle myself. I know the news has been full with us dating but to be fair that puts you in more danger than me, who wouldn't want to hold the kings son's lover for ransom?"

You argued back.

And you had a point, Alastor thought.

"Very well then, dear, however do not forget your radio remember you just turn it on and I shall be there as quick as possible."

You kissed him again and then smiled.

"Yes, I know"

He got you a pocket radio when he first saw the news. So whenever you need him you can just turn it to the channel you knew is his and hell be there in a second (idk lets just pretend).

You really weren't going out for anything special, you just wanted to get coffee with your dad like you do every week.

But the people who Alastor has pissed off didn't care much about where you were going they just wanted to make the fucker pay for what he has done. These were the sharks that Mimzy screwed over and Alastor had to clean her mess up. However during that clean up he kinda ate the boss's son and the boss was not please.

You could take on some annoying sharks really, but they attacked sudden. From the dark. While you were listening to music. So there really wasn't much you could do.

They showed you into an alley and started to beat you up with all sorts of junk they could find. You tried to reach the radio but when they showed you to the ground it broke.

This was when you decided to not play the part of helpless little prince waiting for his knight and used your powers to at least scare them away from you, you didn't have strength left to do anything else.

When you stood up, painfully, you reached for the pocket radio Alastor gave you, at least, for the parts of it.

"Fucking assholes" you liked that radio, you listened to Alastors podcast on it.

You knew you couldn't go see your dad in the state you were in you'd just worry him so you headed back home.

It was a hard journey with all the pain you were in but you managed.

You knew Alastor had things to do so you hoped he wouldn't be home. You didn't want to worry him.

"And who, pray tell, hurt my gorgeous little deer in such ways?" You heard the voice of your boyfriend from behind you as you entered your shared quarters.

"AHH, Fuck, Alastor I-I thought you wouldn't be-"

"Answer the question, please"

His voice was different. And as he exited from the shadows you saw that his voice was not the only thing different.

He wasn't smiling. He had a collected expression on his face, a terrifying calmness. You knew it wasn't directed at you.

He walked over to you and put his hand on your bloody cheek. He stroked your cheek with his thumb while you nestled into the warmness of his palm.

"You know those, sharks, that came here after Mimzy?" You asked him. His thumb stopped.

"Mimzy?" His voice was overly static barely audible.

"No, its not her-"

"I will be back soon" he said still overly static. And with that he left, not without leaving his shadow with you to patch you up.

"Shit" you mumbled. You wondered if you should have said anything.

Alastor's shadow made you sit down, and started tending to your wounds.

-------------------------------------------------

You woke up at 3 am to the ruckus of Alastor coming into you guys's room.

"Alastor" you whispered.

He was bloody all over as he halted on his way to the bathroom.

"Why are you up, darling?" He asked.

You could hear the exhaustion in his voice.

"What happened."

"Ah-ah-ah dear, I asked the question first." He tried to make the situation lighter.

"Its hard to sleep when your boyfriend is out hell knows where or doing what." You answered with just a hint of anger in your voice.

You took a breath and sighed.

"Your turn"

"Well...dear I don't think you wish to hear the details I know you are not particularly fond of violence, lets just say, I have plenty of new voices for my broadcast, these are going to be longer sessions however, these filths are getting the extra special treatment."

He answered slowly, trying not to anger you further.

You were trying to keep up the strong facade but you just ended your falling into his arms mumbling how worried you were. He hugged you back tightly, holding you to his body.

"I'm sorry, my darling, no harm shall ever befall you under my eye again." He mumbled into your hair.

-------------------------------------------------

In the following weeks all everyone could talk about was how the sessions on radio demons podcast have gotten hours long, just screams for hours, this has never happened someone must have really pissed him off. From then on, Alastor stayed true to his word, no one dared to lay a finger on you.

#male reader #hazbin x reader #hazbin x you #hazbin hotel x male reader #male y/n #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin alastor x reader

[katiexpunk]

Caller Number Nine | Pairing Javier Peña x Fem!Reader

Summary: You're a radio host of a popular late-night segment on relationships, advice and more. After a particularly bad night of calls, your final call of the night takes you by surprise.

Warnings: Javier is a flirt. Alcohol/marijuana. Humor/Banter. Flirting. References to infidelity and a man's negative view on his wife's postpartum body (the reader puts them both in their place). Both reader and Javier are lonely. New York. Slightly dom Javier. Biting. Javier gives reader a hickey. Murphy the Cat (this cat is DEA). Bodegas and a wholesome shop owner named Carlos. Some Spanish. TUWOMT call back to Paddington 2 but in a Javier AU. Javier calls the reader a slut once (she likes it). Praise kink. Thigh riding. Use of pet names. Just a hot fuck. Creampie. Unprotected sex. Fingering. Pizza on ranch. Dave Portnoy gets mentioned (iykyk). No use of Y/N, no use of daddy. For immersability, the reader has no major physical descriptions.

W/C: ~6K

A/N: Let's just say this story was inspired by the slutty mustache that has made a triumphant return. I’m also just really into pizza with ranch right now, too, idk. If you need me I’ll be internally freaking out about the fact that there are almost 1,400 of you interested in my silly little stories. Thank you. 🥹🖤

Masterlist | Notifications | Read on AO3

People suck at listening. You used to, too. But over time, call after call, you have become intimately acquainted with the quiet moments—the pauses between heartbeats, the breaths taken before confessions spill forth, the silence that stretches like a canvas waiting for emotions to color it. 

These moments, often overlooked in the noise of daily life, are where you find the truth that guides you through the tangled web of love and relationships you navigate every night on your show.

For you, the quiet is not emptiness but a space brimming with potential. It's in these pauses that you listen most intently, not just to the spoken words but to the ones that tremble on the edge of silence, too shy or too scared to make themselves heard. You have learned that what is not said can be just as important as what is, and you can hear those unspoken fears, dreams, and desires. 

Each night, as the clock winds down and the world outside your studio window holds its breath, you lean into the quiet, inviting it into your show. You encourage your callers to do the same—to listen to the quiet within themselves, to the truths they've buried under layers of fear, doubt, or societal expectation. "In the silence," you often say, "you'll find the answers you've been too busy to hear."

Most of the time the callers are open to your feedback, their hearts open and kind.

Most of the time. 

Tonight isn’t one of those times.

++++

“Have you ever had Brussels sprouts made for you at midnight by a gorgeous woman in no pants following multiple orgasms? I have, and they’re fucking delicious,” one caller said. It was obvious after minutes of talking to him that he was failing to heed your advice that if he didn’t stop sleeping with women who weren’t his wife, she would likely find out one day and leave him. God, you hope she does. 

“I love her, you know? I just don’t find myself that physically attracted to her after she had the baby, it’s not my fault…” another said. Ugh, fuck off, dude. You were quick to shut that one down, to tell him that he was being a boy, to go to the store and buy his wife some goddamn flowers and apologize for being such an asshole. 

Like a broken record stuck on repeat, this is how the night continues. One bad call after another, each seeming to echo or outdo the last in its what the fuck factor. 

In the dimly lit recording studio, a soft hum of equipment fills the air, punctuated only by the occasional flicker of LED lights on the soundboard. You think briefly about letting out a scream before your last call, surely the foam walls would absorb the sound. 

The glow of the computer screen casts a soft light on your face, accentuating the furrow of your brow and the downturn of your lips. You're a picture of frustration, a stark contrast to the empathetic persona that your listeners know and rely on. Each bad call tonight has chipped away at you. You drop your head into your hands and rub your temples for a brief moment before looking up at the clock, its hands inching their way to your liberation. 

Just one more call. 

The phone lines blink red. Your hand, a little steadier than you feel, reaches out and cues up the next caller, your voice finding strength as it always does when you speak into the void. 

“Hi there, caller number nine. You’re on the air with Midnight Confessions. What’s on your heart tonight?” 

“Ah shit – oh, uh probably shouldn’t say that on air huh – mm, wasn’t expecting to get through,” the man admits, his tone telling you he’s nervous, and probably a little drunk. 

“Guess it’s your lucky night then. And it’s a late-night show, you can curse all you want to. What’s your name?” you ask, trying to ease him into the conversation.

There’s a pause, the kind that tells you the caller is weighing his options on whether he should give you his real name or not. Finally, he exhales softly, his mouth close to the receiver, enough for the exhale to cut through the static. 

“I’m Javier. And you are?” 

“You can call me the voice of the night,” you reply, a small smile tugging at the corners of your mouth, the first genuine one in hours.

“Didn’t realize I called the crime fighters hotline.”

The joke catches you by surprise and you let out a little laugh.

“Can’t say I’ve gotten that one before,” you respond before eventually giving him your real name. “So tell me, Javier, what would you like to talk about tonight?” 

There’s another pause, longer this time, before Javier’s voice returns softer, and you can tell the tone is about to shift. 

“This is stupid, I shouldn’t have called. I’m sorry for wasting your time tonight ma’am,” he says, and you can tell he’s seconds away from hanging up. 

“Javier, wait –” you say, but he doesn’t respond. The line hasn’t disconnected, so you know he’s still there. 

“Listen, I don’t know you – and you don’t have to tell me anything – but I can tell from the tone of your voice that it sounds like you’re carrying quite a bit on your shoulders. It’s brave of you to want to open up about it. Sometimes, talking to a stranger is easier than talking to someone you know,” you say, letting the dead air hang heavy for a second, “let me try to help.” You try not to make a habit out of convincing callers to spill their guts, but something about this call, this man, compels you to. 

Javier sighs a sound that carries a world of worry. “I don’t even know where to start. My whole life, I’ve defined myself by my job, and without that, I –” his voice starts to crack, and he stops. You hear the clank of an ice cube against glass, and he continues again, “I realize how alone I am, how I don’t have anyone or anything. I feel like the only company I have these days are the ghosts of a past life.” 

You don’t have the full context of his confession, but it hits you deeper than expected, echoing a sentiment that's all too familiar. You think about how most of the time, when you’re not working, you’re either turning to dust on the couch or in the company of fictional men you read about in books. 

"Javier," you start, your voice softer, threading through the silence with care, "I understand more than you might think. You're not alone. It might feel that way right now, but I promise you’re not,” you say sweetly.

When he doesn’t say anything, you continue, “Losing a part of our identity, especially one that's been a cornerstone of who we are, is like losing our direction. But it's also an opportunity, a chance to rediscover yourself, to find new aspects of your life that give you meaning and joy."

You pause, giving Javier space, letting your words hopefully seep in to provide some comfort. 

“What does that mean – that you understand more than I might think?” he asks, not acknowledging the rest of your statement, a curiosity in his voice. 

“It means –” you start. Oh god, here we go. You’re not often like this with your callers, but this feels different. The studio, with its blinking lights and the gentle hum of the machinery, suddenly feels more intimate, as if it's just you and Javier at this moment, connecting through the airwaves.  

“When I was little, my mother always knew my things, quirks, you know? Things like the fact that I’m scared of heights, that I get cranky if I don’t eat breakfast, and that I only like ranch dressing on pizza and never salad. It’s all trivial, small little details, but from this, I think I learned that being known is to be loved. 

You take a deep breath, and let the silence swallow you whole for a moment before continuing. 

“When I say I understand more than you might think, I mean that I’m still one of those people who’s waiting for someone to tell me how much I mean to them, still hoping for someone who will know those things about me, too,” you pause.

“Someone who will hold my hand tightly when I’m on a rooftop so I don’t somehow tumble over the edge, someone who will make sure I eat breakfast, even if it’s just a shitty granola bar, someone who will buy the fancy ranch, even if it only gets used on greasy pizza.” 

You hear Javier chuckle through the line. 

“Something funny?” you ask, a little confused, slightly embarrassed that this call has somehow reversed the roles and you’re the one spilling your confessions over like a broken yolk into his hand. 

“No, no – it’s just ranch on pizza, that’s uh, that’s…disgusting,” he admits, a playful tone to his words, the sadness before seems to be gone, but you know his humor is likely just a mask. 

“Excuse me, I’ll have you know ranch on pizza is a classic, and quite delicious. Thousands – no millions – of people like ranch on their pizza, it’s not that weird,” you quip. 

“Right,” he rasps, “I’ll take your word for it, sweetheart.” You bite your lower lip and try to ignore the heat that’s risen to your cheeks, the little thrill you feel in your stomach from your banter. You’re quickly brought back to reality when you look at the clock and realize your call time is nearing an end. 

“Well, Javier, you're my last call of the night and I’m afraid it’s time to wrap the show up. Is there anything else I can help you with before I let you go?” 

“No,” he says, his voice a low rasp, thick like honey, “thanks for saying all of that.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” you say, the smile still on your lips like sugar from cotton candy. You slump back into your chair and the line disconnects. 

++++

As the clock ticks past one, the studio lights fall to darkness, leaving only a solitary desk lamp to cast long shadows across the room. You loop the familiar weight of your backpack over your shoulder and put on your headphones. 

You lock the studio door, and step into the brisk night air — it’s March, technically Spring, but the remnants of Winter are still holding tight. The city's pulse is tangible, even at this late hour, as you navigate your way to the subway. With only the Eagles in your ear to keep you company, you watch as the Graffiti-streaked walls blur past. 

Once off the subway, you think about heading straight home to promptly melt into your mattress, but the rumble in your stomach reminds you that you haven’t eaten since lunch. 

Might as well go see Murphy. He’s always happy to see you. 

You round around the corner and the bodega lights come into view. The ground beneath you is damp and you’re careful not to step into any puddles as you make your way to the shop. You push open the shop door and the familiar chime of a bell alerts Murphy to your presence. 

“Hi Murphy,” you coo, crouching closer to the ground so he can rub up against you. “How’s my favorite boy?” You say, scratching his favorite spot under his chin, feeling the comfort of his soft fur and rhythmic purr. If Murphy had it his way, you’d live at the Bodega, ceasing only to exist to give him love. 

Your stomach growls again and you rise, “Gonna get some dinner now, okay Murph?” You walk through the tight aisles, grab a can of tuna as you pass by the canned goods, making your way to the frozen section in the back.

Chicken nuggets it is, you silently tell yourself before grabbing the frozen bag and making your way to the register. 

"Hola, Carlos. ¿Cómo va tu noche?" (Hi, Carlos. How’s your night going?) 

"Oh, hola.” As much as you’d love to practice your Spanish with Carlos, he needs to practice his English more and you’re more than happy to oblige. 

"Good to see you. Listened to your show tonight, what a piece of work some of those people were,” he responds, using his index finger to punch numbers on the cash register.

"Tell me about it. How much do I owe you?"

"$7.50. Murphy says thank you for the donation,” he smiles, holding up the canned Tuna, and like clockwork, Murphy jumps up on the counter and starts assaulting the can with his cheek. 

“Like he gave me any choice,” you respond, handing over $10. Carlos gives you your change and you give Murphy a few final loving pats on the head.

“¡Hasta mañana!"

"Buenas noches."

Back in the quiet of your apartment, the microwave fights you, its door refusing to stay closed until you jam it shut with a wooden spoon. With dinner finally spinning inside, you sink onto the couch, the night’s weight lifting off your shoulders. You feel yourself nodding off before the sound of the microwave beeping and the rumble of your stomach wake you up. 

Dinner done, you smoke a joint, the smoke curling lazily in the lamplight. Your mind goes fuzzy and you stare up at the ceiling, trying to make shapes out of the popcorn on the ceiling. Your mind drifts to the thought of your last caller and you let your mind wander as you imagine what he might be up to tonight. Is he asleep? Or is he staring up at his ceiling, lost in thoughts as you are?

The only thing you know for certain is that you’re both alone tonight. At least there’s some comfort in knowing you’re not the only one.

The city outside continues its restless murmuring, but your mind goes silent as you fall asleep. 

++++

You're grateful to have the next night off. Not like you have plans, but at least you don’t have to show face or wash your hair. Even if you did have to go out in public tonight, it wouldn’t matter — that’s the beauty of New York. You could look like a gutter rat and nobody would give a shit. But still, the freedom of an evening without obligations feels like a luxury, a small pocket of time where the demands of the world fade into the background. 

Staring at your nearly empty fridge, its emptiness staring back at you, you sigh. Fuck. And then it hits you, unexpected but undeniable, a craving for pizza. Not just any pizza, but a pie from your favorite local spot, where the crust is always perfectly crisp and the cheese melts in a way that feels like a hug for your taste buds.

Stepping out into the evening rain, you make your way to the pizzeria that’s only a block away. The moment you open the door, a warm wave of garlic, tomato, and baked dough envelops you. The line isn’t long, but it gives you enough time to deliberate over your order, though deep down, you know you’ll end up choosing your usual — a Margherita. 

You peek up from your phone and notice the man in front of you at the order counter. Broad shoulders strain against the fabric of his shirt, his tight jeans outlining a figure that speaks of strength. Dark hair and tan skin contrast strikingly under the fluorescent lighting. He orders confidently, his voice smooth, almost familiar. As he’s about to cash out, he adds “Can I get a side of ranch too, please?” 

“No problem,” the cashier says, a little too happy to oblige his request. She’s flirting, you don’t know her, but you can tell. When the cashier asks for a name for the order, it confirms what you think you already know. 

 "Javier." The name hangs in the air, a familiar sound that sends a jolt through you. 

It couldn’t possibly be. 

The words escape your lips before you have a chance to second-guess it. 

“I thought ranch on pizza was disgusting.” 

He turns to face you and oh. You might have guessed that he was attractive from his voice, but seeing him is something else entirely. He’s strikingly handsome, with a dark mustache trimmed perfectly above his lip, his jaw stark and chiseled. The corners of his lips turn up in a smirk. 

“Shit. Caught red-handed by the crime stopper herself,” he says with a wink. 

Okay, so he’s handsome and charming. You’re so fucked. 

As Javier steps aside, your gaze lingers for a moment longer before you place your own order. You feel his eyes boring into the back of your head as you do. 

“No plans tonight?” He asks, and you shake your head. 

“Not really, just this. Might swing by to see my boyfriend on my way home,” you say, noticing the way his expression shifts into disappointment, it’s subtle, but it’s there. 

“Oh,” Javier says. He thinks for a second that maybe you were lying last night about understanding what it’s like to be alone. 

“Yeah, we’ve got a hot date with a can of tuna,” you respond, smiling as you watch his very visibly confused face, the furrow of his brow. You can tell he’s not quite sure how to respond, the words a tangled knot in his brain, or perhaps conjuring up some weird kinky thoughts about what a date with a can of tuna could entail. He’s not sure he wants to know.

“I’m just messing with you,” you laugh. “He’s a bodega cat up the street, I usually swing by every night after work and I’ve developed a soft spot for the little guy. His name’s Murphy.” 

“Wait, Murphy? From Carlos’ shop?” Javier asks, and you’re a little surprised. 

“You know Carlos?” 

“Yeah, yeah — he’s friends with my father. Great guy,” he adds, nodding to the pizzeria worker who hands him his order. You notice the blush on her cheeks when he says thank you.

You watch intently as the other worker packs up yours, placing two to-go containers of ranch on your box. 

You grab your pizza and use your free hand to grab one of the containers of ranch and extend it to Javier. “For you,” you smile as you hold it out to him. 

“Eat with me?” He asks, grabbing the ranch from your hand, your skin briefly touching. 

How could you say no? 

You smile and nod, and follow him through the restaurant. He holds the door open for you and places his hand on your lower back as he guides you out. You feel like a schoolgirl with a crush. He’s just being a gentleman, but something about the touch causes something in your core to run hot, a hint of arousal in its warmth. 

In typical New York fashion, you find a relatively clean stoop to sit on. With the pizza boxes open on the step in front of you, the steam wafting in the cool night air, you smile at Javier. 

“Are you ready to have your world rocked?” You ask, holding the pizza up long enough for the strings of cheese to disconnect from the box. He does the same. 

“After you, Cariño.” 

Cariño. So he’s a flirt, too. 

You dip your slice into the ranch, a perfect amount clinging to the tip, before you bring it to your lips. The anticipation builds with the scent of garlic and herbs wafting up. 

You barely pause to savor the moment before you declare, “Some people say the first bite of pizza is the best, but I disagree.” You dunk it back into the ranch and take another, this time bigger than the first, “The second bite is really where it’s at.” Since when did you become Dave Portnoy?

Javier watches with amusement as you delight over your dinner. “Go on now, after you,” you nod, continuing to work on your pizza like a starving dog. You watch as he delicately dunks his pizza into the ranch, and like a baby bird, takes a small bite. You study his expression, a mix of curiosity and amusement, as he carefully chews. His face gives nothing away, a poker face if you ever saw one, until he finally delivers his verdict, “Can’t say it’s my favorite.”

“What?” you gasp, half in disbelief, half in jest. You playfully nudge him, your hand reaching out to liberate the neglected ranch from his box. “Let me save this from your indifference,” you tease, claiming the ranch for your own. The banter feels easy, much like it did when he called in the other night. 

“So tell me, Javier,” he stops you “You can call me Javi,” he says. 

“Javi,” you smile, picking at a tomato on your second slice. “What made you want to call in the other night?” 

He looks at you as you bring the tomato to your mouth, and lets his gaze linger on your lips. You notice. 

“That’s a good question. Um,” he says, taking another bite before continuing, his elbows on his thighs, staring out into the street. “Truthfully, I was a little drunk, and a lot alone. I think I just wanted someone to talk to.” 

“I get that,” you acknowledge. 

“What? You probably talk to dozens of people every day,” he responds, turning to face you this time. 

"False. I listen to dozens of people every day, but I don’t really get to talk. At least, not about things that matter, not truly." He gives you a long look, then nods, understanding etched into his features. He doesn’t pry further. 

A comfortable silence settles between you as you both work on finishing your pizzas.

"What about you?" you finally break the silence.

"What about me?" he echoes, a hint of curiosity in his tone.

"I spilled my plans for the night, my glamorous date with Murphy. What's on your agenda?" you ask, leaning forward slightly. His tight bicep muscles press up against your arm.

"This," he gestures broadly to the city around you, wrapped in the open night. Then, with a sheepish grin, he adds, "Well, actually, I was planning to go home and watch Paddington 2."

You laugh hard enough to let out a little snort. He looks at you with affectionate eyes, like you’re the cutest thing he’s seen in a while. 

“Paddington 2? Like, the bear movie?” you manage between chuckles.

“Yep. I cried through the entire thing the first time I saw it. It made me want to be a better man.” 

“I see, well I’ll have to take your word for it, I’ve never seen it.” 

"Do you want to come over and watch it?" he proposes, the question hanging in the air. It’s a bold move, especially since you've only just met, but there’s an earnestness in his invitation that makes you pause, considering.

"Only if we can swing by and say hi to Murphy on the way," you quip, bumping your shoulder against his lightly.

“Deal,” he says with a wink. 

++++

As the saying goes, you make plans and god laughs. 

It's almost as if you could have, perhaps even should have, anticipated this turn of events. 

Paddington 2 might as well have been code for want to come over and fuck? 

The energy crackling between you two is undeniable, magnetic. His blend of wit, handsomeness, and confident charm weaves an irresistible allure, drawing you in closer with every word, every glance. 

It's one of those rare, electric connections that you read about or see in movies, but seldom experience in real life. Yet here it is, unfolding in real-time, a reminder that sometimes the most memorable moments are those you never see coming. You rarely see yourself as the main character, but tonight you feel like one. 

In the narrow stairwell, his hips press firmly against yours, your back against the cold wall, arms pinned above your head. His lips find yours with an intensity that leaves no room for hesitation, a crash of desire against desire. You surrender to the moment, tilting your pelvis into his, a plea for more. 

The world around you is a blur; it's just the two of you, enveloped in a haze of passion. His hands, desperate and eager, fumble for his keys—a brief interruption in your heated exchange as he struggles to unlock the door without breaking the heat of your gaze, the connection of your lips only momentarily severed. The anticipation builds with each fumbled attempt, heightening the intensity as you eventually enter his apartment and he has you pressed up against the door.

His lips trail from yours down the razor edge of your jaw, the hallow of your throat, over your collarbones, and down the valley of your still-clothed chest. “Javi,” you moan, and he responds with a groan into your chest. He looks up at you through his gorgeous lashes, “Can I take this off, Cariño?” 

“Yes, yeah — shit, yes, please.” 

He makes quick work of your shirt and assists it over your head, before returning his lips to your soft skin and working to undo your bra at the same time. “God damn” he mumbles under his breath, and you can’t help but feel the warmth rush to your chest and cheeks, “so pretty.” 

You can’t even remember the last time you were touched like this, nonetheless kissed. Your skin erupts in goosebumps as he makes his tongue trail over one of your nipples, the other being teased slightly between his fingers. The sensation causes you to tilt your head back in ecstasy and you let out a soft moan. “Oh, yeah? You like it when I do that, baby?” You nod your head in response. “Use your words.” 

“Yes, oh god — feels so good.” 

“That’s better.” 

You bring both of your hands to the waistband of his denim and pull him in closer to you, close enough to feel his hard cock, desperate to be touched. He brings his hands to grip your hair, baring your throat to him. He forces your legs apart with his knee, shoving it against your core. You begin to slowly grind on the denim. 

“Want more?” 

“Fuck, yes — ” you whimper with another grind against him. He kisses you again, one hand tightly gripping your hip and the other wrapped in your hair. You cling to him, arms wrapped around his middle until you drop them to find his belt buckle. His lips find yours once more, and he sucks the bottom one into his mouth before biting it and letting go.

He steps back, and you work to remove the rest of your clothing and shoes. You shimmy your pants over your thighs, taking your underwear with you. He thought you were beautiful from the moment he turned around and saw you, but seeing you standing in front of him, chest heaving, bare and perfect just for him, is another story. He slides his pants and underwear off in one go, kicking them off the side along with his boots.

He only gives you a moment to admire his form, cock hard and thick, the tip of it red and weeping, before he surges forward and kisses you with new passion. He licks the seam of your lips before forcing it open with his tongue, swallowing every one of your moans like they’re a gift just for him.

When you both can’t breathe, he pulls back and peppers kiss down your neck once more before he sucks a hickey into your neck, eliciting a breathy moan from you. He smirks against your skin and moves to the expanse of your shoulder, finding a new spot to bite and suck. 

He forces his thigh between yours again, pushing the expanse of it right up against your bare pussy. You moan and cling to him, once again riding his thigh. “You gonna come on my thigh, baby?” He questions against your skin, feeling your shoulders shudder from his breath ghosting along your neck. He tightens his grip on your waist and rocks you forward, “Use me. Want to feel you soak me,” he hums, kissing your neck. You’re lost in the haze of your arousal, chasing the friction you so desperately need. 

“Answer me, Cariño.” 

“Y-yes.” You breathe,  tightening your grip on him. You grind against him more, faster, harder. “Want it so bad.”  And fuck, you do, you need it so bad but you’re not sure you can get there from just this. 

“What do you want, beautiful?” He questions with another bite to your skin. “Do you want to come on my thigh like the good little slut I know you are?” You whine at the filth of his words, the warmth of his praise causing your belly to tighten. He tightens his grip on your hips and guides you faster on his leg, his fingers digging into your skin, hard enough you hope you bruise. 

“Show me how pretty you are when you come, Cariño — make a mess of me,” Your body seizes up and you throw your head back and let out a guttural moan. The spot where your pussy rests against his thigh gets wetter. When you tilt your head back up, his eyes are what throws you over the edge. He holds your gaze as he watches you come for him, on him, because of him. “Fuck, that was gorgeous,” he moans, holding you steady as you come down from your orgasm. 

“Bed. Now,” he demands, guiding you through the hall and to his bedroom. 

You fall back onto the bed, your back hitting the mattress with a small oof, your breasts bouncing with the movement. He holds his heavy cock in hand by the base as he gently strokes himself, and watches as you part your legs wide open for him and finger yourself.

He continues to work himself while staring at your tight, slick hole, dripping just for him. His eyes go impossibly dark as he watches your fingers saw in and out, you’re really quite the sight.

“Shit, Cariño. Look at your little pussy,” his voice in between a whine and a whimper, as he steps forward between your legs and begins to position himself at your entrance. One hand on your knee, the other holding himself, he presses the head of his cock into you, making you moan, his tip alone is a stretch you’re unfamiliar with — it’s intense but good.  

He’s not trying to taunt you, not really. “Just wanna make sure you’re nice and ready to take this fat cock,” he says, pressing just the mushroom head in and out of you. The slow drag of it is excruciating, enough for you to let out a plea of please fuck me. “Look so good like this, baby. Can feel you sucking me in, she wants it bad, doesn’t she?” 

You nod, “More, Javi. Need to feel you inside of me, please,” you plead, holding your thighs behind your knees, spreading yourself wider for him, giving him full access to your cunt. 

“Yeah, okay,” he says, thrusting the full length of him into you, and ohhhhmyfuck. 

Your pussy walls flutter and tighten around him, and he lets out a wrecked groan. He draws his hips back and slams that back into you with enough thrust that your tits bounce. His thrusts are hard, but slow, giving you time to adjust to his size. He’s quick to pick up the pace, causing you to sob in pleasure, broken moans leaving your lips as he knocks the wind out of you with each snap of his hips. 

He draws himself nearly out, his cock glistening with your slick, and he grabs both of your hips to hold you steady as he fucks into you. “Look at the mess we’re making together, Cariño. So fucking beautiful, you’re taking this cock so well.” You’re starting to realize that he’s a smooth talker both in and out of bed. 

You wail as he picks up his speed, panting and grunting, groaning as he watches the thin skin of your pussy stretch around his girth. He releases one of his hands from your hips and brings the pad of his thumb to the swollen clit between your folds, and begins to rub tight circles. 

“So tight, baby, little cunt’s trying to make me come, isn’t she?” He groans, his pace slowly slightly, his stomach muscles tightening and his jaw clenched shut. 

“Want you to, want you to fill this hole up with all of your come. Want to feel you drip out of me, need to feel you.” Your words spur him on more, and he continues working your clit, his cock thrusting in and out of you, “oh god, please, please, please.” You’re not usually one to beg, but something about him has it pouring out of you. 

“Yeah? Want me to fill you up, baby? I will if you come with me,” he says, an intensity, an urgency behind his voice. You’re so close, you think you’ll be able to come with him, but before you have the chance to get there, you watch as he squeezes his eyes shut to try and collect himself, but he’s too close, nearly over the edge of his orgasm. His cock starts to swell and his movements get a little sloppy. 

“Come in me, Javi. Want to feel you,” you moan, your voice a seductive whisper, and that does it.

His hips stutter, “Fuck, Cariño,” he groans, his voice a wreck, as he buries himself to the hilt inside of you and starts to throb ropes of his warm spend in you. There’s so much that it spills out of you and down your asscheek. 

“Oh such a messy, pretty pussy,” he groans, admiring the way your cunt looks stuffed full of him, the glisten of your release and his on his cock, “Milking me so good.” 

“Gonna make you come for me again beautiful,” he says, cock still spearing you, throbbing and pulsing as he collects some of his spend on his fingers and brings it to the needy button between your legs. It doesn’t take much to get you there, and within seconds you’re on the brink of your orgasm. 

The warmth that pools in your belly grows and radiates through your limbs until your whole body feels tingly and your vision goes white. 

“Oh my god, Javi, I’m coming,” you wail, a blubbering mess of pleasure, until you’re drowning in the sea of your orgasm. 

“Can feel you squeezing me, sweet girl,” he groans, both out of pleasure and a little bit of over-stimulation on his already spent cock, “So. Fucking. Pretty. Such a good girl,” he says as he works you through the last of your orgasm. After you come down from your high, he gently pulls out of you, and a little trail of his come follows and spills out onto the sheets below. 

“Jesus, Javi. That was something else,” you say, blissed out and thoroughly fucked. You nestle up into his chest like it’s easy, it comes naturally, a movement you don’t even question. He wraps his arm around you and plants a soft kiss on the top of your head in response.

“Can I say something?” He asks, and you look up at him a little worried. Waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

“I’d buy the fancy ranch for you.”  

END

If you like this, please consider a reblog. <3

Trying a thing where I don't use a tag list to see how it goes. To be notified when I post fics, follow @katiexpunkupdates

END A/N: the line she gives Javier in response to knowing what he means in the first part of the fic is adapted from a poem. I wrote it down, but forgot to name the author. So credit to the author, whoever it is.

#javier peña #javier pena x f!reader #javier pena smut #javier pena narcos #javier pena fanfiction #pedrohub #javier pena x you #javier pena x reader #pedrostories #narcos smut #the slutty little mustache has returned

[tsukasalvr]

Idk if your requests are open or not AAHH! But if they are:

(Possible TW in my request for mentions of depression, anxiety, commiting di3 joke)

Could you do a reader with bad depression and anixety. And maybe one day reader makes a joke about 0ffing themself and then they dont show up to school for a few days

Characters I would prefer(from TBHK): Kou, Teru, Hanako, Akane(boy)

You can add more if you like! :)

Im sorry its not very specific, this is my first time requesting something

Also sorry i know topics like these are difficult for some people <3

depressed!reader who makes su*cidal jokes

Anime/fandom: Tbhk

Characters: Kou Minamoto, Teru Minamoto, Hanako, Akane Aoi

Warnings: I don’t proofread, depressed reader, mention of suicide

A/n: just got broken up w by my pookie wookie☹️💔

Tbhk masterlist | Main masterlist

Kou Minamoto

Is immediately put off by what you’re saying and is immediately concerned, and gets even more concerned once you get together and just stares nervously at you while stuttering, not knowing what to say

“That’s so embarrassing, if that were me I would kill myself no doubt! Being so stupid like that, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself!” You casually said while looking at a post on your phone.

“O-oh… umm…” Kou is at a loss for words sometimes and tries to brush it off by moving onto something happier to distract you from thoughts like those

When you make a joke that’s one day too far he genuinely seems so much more concerned and ask if you’re okay. He gets so worried about you that it’s best not to make jokes like that near him.

If you don’t show up the next day, he gets worried and is immediately trying to leave school early even though he knows Teru will berate him later for it, he needs to see you’re okay and when he arrives to your house and sees you are, he’s very serious about not making jokes like those again and is invites you to his house more often to distract yourself and is willing to help you get help

Teru Minamoto

Gives you a nervous smile when you joke about suicide and even when you you’re dating he still gives you an obvious fake smile to not hurt your feelings. He knows that outright saying that if you need someone talk to talk to can be annoying sometimes so he’ll try to subtly let you know he’s there

Whether it’s from talking about a topic of a documentary of a tragic life of some celebrity and all they needed help to having Kou telk you that you’re part of the family and that you can tell them anything when you’re over at their house

“I can’t stop messing this up! God I really should’ve taken those pills when I had the chance, what the hell!” You said angrily at the fact you couldn’t get the string through the small hole in the needle.

Teru could only smile at you, he never says anything to your ‘jokes’, but then he stops and just goes to frowning hoping that you’re not being serious

When you don’t show up the next day, he’s not super worried and just assumes you’re late but sends you messages. But after a few hours the messages become more frequent and by the end of the school day he’s running to your house scared. When he sees you’re alright, he’s pissed and says enough is enough and he’s not taking anymore jokes and is instead going to help you

Hanako

He might laugh at your jokes, but it’s only so he doesn’t worry you. He’s not an unfamiliar when it comes to stuff like this and he knows you might now want to talk about it right away so he’s fine with trying to take it slow

On the inside though, his ghostly heart is scared that you’re it joking and you’re actually being serious. He can’t bear the thought of you dying—and especially dying this way so he keeps a close eye on you and has Kou and Yashiro even make sure that you’re doing okay

“God, I’m so stupid and useless” you say with a laugh as you look at your test result and shove the paper back in your bag

Hanako stares at you, and lets out a laugh that’s believe enough. He’s conflicted on what he should do, should he ask how you’re doing? What if you lie to him? Would you even want to talk to him?

It seems as if his worries have come true when you didn’t show up to school the next day and asks if Yashiro or Kou have seen you at all and to message you on those weird electronic things. Yashiro only agrees to go to your house when Hanako asked because she too was worried about you. Hanako waits impatiently the next day and sees you and you tell him you were just feeling sick. If he could, then Hanako would definitely cry and basically forces you to promise to tell him if anything is wrong with a scared and worried expression on his face

Akane Aoi

You’re the most precious person in his life so he takes everything very serious when it comes to you. A paper cut? He’s getting ready to call an ambulance for you and is frantically asking you if you’re okay.

So joking about such topics near him immediately alarms him and hea on full protective mode with asking if you’re joking or not. He takes everything you say seriously, he cares about you a lot so to see you laugh about it, hurts him a little

“What if I jump out this window right now? I really do want to do this test!” You whined and looked over at the window that was right next to where you were sitting.

Akane had a prominent frown on his face, he knew you weren’t exactly mentally okay and you’re jokes were becoming more and more frequent

He’s on full panic mode when you don’t show up to school the next day and the worst possible outcomes are immediately coming to mind. He hopes he’s wrong and is blowing up your phone and is willing to mess up his perfect attendance streak for you, he’ll fix it later. But when he sees you overslept and your phone died because wig wasn’t charged, he’s disappointed. He knew it was getting worse if you dying was what came to mind when you didn’t show up so he pledges to help you

#tbhk x y/n #tbhk x reader #jshk x y/n #jshk x reader #minamoto kou x reader #kou minamoto x reader #kou x reader #teru x reader #teru minamoto x reader #hanako x you #hanako x y/n #hanako kun x reader #hanako x reader #amane yugi x reader #amane x reader #aoi akane x reader #akane aoi x reader #akane x reader

[peeponastick]

Touch My Soul, Pt. 1

Uchiha Itachi x fem!Reader

Word count: 1.6K

Rating: This will be a NSFW 18+ multi-part fic. Part 1 doesn't have any outright explicit content tho. Part 2 here

cw/tw: SPOILERS, mentions of sexual harassment (Hidan is a skeevy perv), emotional turmoil, angst?, sexual tension (but nothing actually happens sorry to edge y’all), major eye contact, like way too much eye contact reader and itachi are basically eye fucking each other 90% of the fic, dramatic asf I can't help myself im sorry

Idk what im doing This is my first time writing and really being on tumblr in general, please let me know if I missed any tags or if you have any advice!! 

not canon at all (but SPOILERS!!!!) pls humor me, everyone in the Akatsuki is alive and led by Madara/Tobi

Synopsis: Madara, the elusive figurehead of the Akatsuki, is an ambitious yet paranoid man. That’s why he has you, as a security measure, given your secret jutsu that allows you to see into people’s souls to confirm their true intentions. When Itachi Uchiha shows up to join the Akatsuki, what will you see behind his obsidian eyes?

Exhausted. Another cross-country mission with pain in the ass Hidan was just what the doctor ordered for your repressed rage and depression living in basically a wet cave with the rest of these jerks. You tried your best, you really did, to not let any emotions slip through the cracks of your cold facade. Some of them had better qualities than others, but none of your fellow Akatsuki members were people you felt particularly amiable towards.

Most of them viewed you as Madara’s stone-cold right hand, his own personal weapon. He trusted you more than any other member, and that fact alone was enough to instill a certain kind of fear in the hearts of every other Akatsuki member. And you know what, good. The more you kept your distance, the better. 

Though your body ached with fatigue upon returning to headquarters, your senses immediately picked up a foreign energy hanging in the air– a presence. Not ominous per se, but definitely a palpable and strong chakra signature.

Leaving Hidan’s perverted requests to join him for some “one-on-one post-mission relaxation time” behind, you made your way to Madara, the chakra getting stronger the closer you got. 

There he was. 

Your breath hitched as your eyes set on a statuesque man standing across from Madara, his tousled, raven-black hair draped around his stunning face and strong shoulders. A lifetime of stress and hardship left evidence of weariness across his features, and yet his eyes still sparkled with a fierce softness, framed by a set of beautiful, thick lashes.

He was so... pretty. Your eyes dropped down to his lips, then his chest downward as you began to drink him in, feeling flushed with an unfamiliar warm tingling the longer you studied him.

He glanced at you with his penetrating eyes, your cheeks burned at being caught in your lustful admiration. Without a doubt, it was Itachi Uchiha standing next to Madara, a solemn look spread across his delicate face.

You’d seen him in the bingo book before, but all the talk you had heard didn’t compare to standing in the same room as him. It was intriguing, though, for someone with such a reputation, and clearly such immense power, his energy didn’t feel threatening or overbearing to you.

Madara raised a hand to Itachi, finally pulling your gaze away from him, before walking over to you. 

“I’m sure you’ve completed the tasks assigned to you, y/n, correct?” Madara asked rhetorically.

You had never failed him, it was important for you to maintain your position in his eyes. Your usual self would have made a sardonic remark about your disdain for working with Hidan again, how a pet rock would have been just as helpful with none of the sexual harassment. But, with the third party in the room, you simply nodded while maintaining your cold, detached demeanor.

“Good, I have another task for you then,” Madara commanded lowly in his deep, chilling voice, pointing his chin in Itachi’s direction.

“This is y/n,” Madara announced, gesturing in your direction as you followed him towards Itachi.

“She’ll just perform a little security check if you don’t mind, nothing personal. I am interested in your usefulness, but I just like to be sure of who I’m working with, I’m sure you can understand. After all, ‘clan killer’ doesn’t exactly have a trustworthy ring to it, now does it?” Madara taunted.

Itachi’s beautiful, brown eyes glinted with an undetectable emotion before connecting with yours, and again you began feeling the wave of heat washing over you.

What was this?! Some sort of jutsu he was using on you?? No.. my god, had it really been that long since you’d been attracted to someone? 

Snapping out of your embarrassing realization about your pitiful sex life, you cleared your throat as you pulled yourself together to perform your special jutsu. Your specialty was energy and emotions– detecting, reading, transmuting. This made you very handy to Madara, after all, knowing what’s inside someone’s soul makes it much easier to manipulate them and offer them what they want to hear, in exchange for whatever Madara wants or needs.

Your secret jutsu was something you dreaded performing. You were incredibly sensitive and receptive to energy, so oftentimes it would leave you completely drained and horrified— seeing all of the vile things people have done, let happen to others, things people buried and hid deep within themselves. It was a lot to witness and take in, and have to maintain your icy demeanor on top of that, lest Madara begin to question you. 

After weaving the hand signs, you hid the nerves buzzing in your body as you approached Itachi to place your hands on either side of his lean, muscular shoulders and touch your forehead to his. By the power of your jutsu, you were transported into Itachi’s soulscape, where you’d be able to confirm for Madara upon exiting, Itachi’s true intentions and trustworthiness as an Akatsuki member. 

Given what you had heard about Itachi, you braced yourself upon entering his soulscape, but were totally unprepared for what you saw.

Time stopped as you and Itachi stood under an endless blue sky painted with magnificent rolling waves of white clouds. The sound of rushing water caught your attention as you looked behind you to notice you were standing several paces away from the edge of a breathtaking waterfall. The cascading water plummeted down the carved earth into pools of emerald green.

Peace. You felt peace standing in this supposed monster’s soul? Itachi stood silent, his eyes intensely watching you as you began to take in more of your surroundings. You’d never seen or felt anything like this, this energy was so.. pure. 

Taking a moment to gather all the information flooding your senses, you turned to look at Itachi as tears pricked your eyes. Your heart broke as you began to fully understand and feel the weight of what he’d been through– what he’d been forced to do, and how much of a monster he believed he was because of it. You felt a gut-wrenching familiarity that ignited an inferno in your own soul, pulling you to him like a magnet and calling you to embrace him and never let go.

“Itachi, I-” you moved close to him, your mind racing as you tried to process the truth, “I’m so sorry, for everything you’ve been through.” You delicately placed a hand on his cheek while looking deep into his gorgeous eyes. His demeanor softened as the emotions overcame the both of you.

“Y-You know?” he hesitantly asked, almost too scared to believe you were seeing the real him and not judging or looking at him with disgust.

Your brows twinged with sadness as you nodded, “Everything,” you replied, tears streaming down your pink cheeks. 

He placed his large, warm palm over your hand as he searched your eyes for confirmation that this was really real and happening to him. He had always been expected to take on insurmountable tasks, things that made him question morality itself, all alone.

And yet, here you were, seeing him, understanding him, accepting him for who he truly was and not what he had done. The burden of his past finally being shared by an open heart, something he never could’ve imagined he deserved.

You reassured his fears without words, both of you lost in each other’s all-consuming gaze. You had never met before, and yet it felt like your souls had known each other many lifetimes. 

You were standing so close to him, the heat of his flushed skin radiated his intoxicating scent, smelling of old-growth forest and clean musk. Every nerve and fiber of your being was lit aflame as his eyes dropped down to your plump lips. His soulful eyes returned to yours as he moved his other hand to gently push a strand of your silky hair out of your face.

You were entranced by his beauty, slowly blinking as you held eye contact with him, fighting every urge to taste his lips that were mere inches away. He equally was mesmerized by your beauty, his eyes scanned all of your features, trying to take you all in and understand what this all meant, how you came to be the you standing here holding him.

“Who are you?” his deep, gravelly voice purred, a gentle smile lighting up his face. 

Panic overtook you as reality came crashing down, remembering that Madara was waiting in the real world for your answer. Though time operated much differently in your jutsu, Madara would certainly become suspicious if things took too long.

You placed your hands on either side of Itachi’s face as you held him close, a frantic look in your eyes.

“We’re out of time. Come to my room tonight, I’ll explain everything.” You hurriedly released the jutsu, and collected yourself so you could resume your emotionless facade so as to not draw suspicion. 

You turned to face Madara, immediately detecting his impatience, “He passed,” you confirmed, “Sorry for the delay, there was.. a lot there.”

Madara stood silent for a moment before releasing a booming laugh, “Yes, I suppose given our Itachi’s history there would be quite a lot to sift through, y/n.”

He turned to walk past Itachi and beckoned him to follow as he began to discuss his plans for the Akatsuki and, eventually, the world. You stood frozen, body still processing all of the huge waves of  emotions you’d experienced in your jutsu. A pit of anxiety began to form deep in your stomach knowing this fated meeting with Itachi meant it was finally time to begin your plan. To take down Madara and the Akatsuki from within. 

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

If you read this far, thank you so much I appreciate you!! I hope you liked my first fic ♡ᵎᵎᵎ

#itachi uchiha #itachi x reader #itachi x you #itachi fanfic #itachi x y/n #uchiha itachi #uchiha x reader #uchiha itachi x reader #uchiha itachi x y/n #itachi uchiha fanfic #itachi uchiha x reader #itachi uchiha x you #uchiha itachi x you #itachi headcanons #itachi smut #naruto fanfiction #itachi #itachi naruto #uchiha imagines #itachi uchiha headcanons #itachi fic #itachi uchiha smut #itachi x reader smut #itachi uchiha supremacy #itachi deserved better

[postpendulum]

Some deformed jumbled mess of whatever this idea is has been rattling around in my adhd riddled brain for weeks now and I'm finally forcing myself to write it down, it is barely fleshed out in the slightest (hence, "deformed") and only the main idea is in my brain right now so I'm basically making it up as I write this so, apologies.

The Fenton parents (for whatever reason) decide that Gotham is the perfect place to spend their summer vacation, and while their there through some

💫Wacky Shananagans💫

Danny ends up meeting (omg your never gonna guess this, it's so out of this world for me, who only has one dpxdc post so far and it's this ship as well, it's so wacky and wild, blow your brains out pew pew pew)

DAMIAN!!!!!!💥💥💥💥💥💥‼‼‼‼💥💥💥💥💀💀💀💀💀:O

What the what!?!?!??!?,! WHO WOULD'VE THOUGHT????? I AINT MEVER DUN DIS BEFORE!!!!!!!!

Anyway basically they have a summer romance because idk mwa mwa kissy noises gay gay homosexual gay and whathajaga

And then idk I had this that that like, I saw someone say once somethen like "damn tho the most unrealistic thing about this show is that nobody at that damn school thought Danny was hot💀" and I thought like, "damn bitch that true tho." So like idk, I thought like, I'm pretty sure its psychological fact or whatever (this gonna be damn embarrassing if that isnt true tho cuss ona my possible options ideas plans whatever for college is psychology💀) that confidants makes people more attractive, so like, ig like Danny builds confidence over the summer with you know, getting a boyfriend, Damian not taking any of that whatever bullshit idk ahjaobznaja or maybe just ghost aura shit whatever idfk whatever you want.

Basically when he goes home at back to school after summer break is over people suddenly realize "oh shit wait whys he kinda hot tho," and the fuckers like randos, maybe a-listers, whoever's just a buncha people like flirting tryna shoot their shot whatever, but then Danny's just like, thinking about how much he loves his boyfriend and how much he can't wait to see him in person again and what not. I also like to think Danny probably didn't even tell anyone at school he got a boyfriend, like maybe he even forgot to tell Sam and Tucker because he was to busy being fucking lovestruck, I mean I doubt that would actually happening and it's more likely that he'd constantly be gushing to them about Damian rather then not and I actually like that idea a lot better now that I thing about it that other one was more of a funny little side thought idk. But yeah nobody knows besides like Sam Tucker and Jazz, so yeah.

On o think that's it for me I'm done good night y'all *cue mic drop*

#dp x dc prompt #dp x dc #dc x dp #dpxdc #dc x dp crossover #dead serious ship #damian wayne x danny fenton #dont mind the wy its seems as if im dieing while writing this #its inly midnight im fine #anyway #look at my sillies #now i need to thinknof funny and witty tags to put here #hmmmmm #im to tired for this bullshit #pretty boy danny fenton #mwa mwa mwa #hugs and kisses #AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA #also pls add on #pls #i looooove when people add on to my prompts #i sy as if ive posted more than one #iff you do ill kiss you on the lips #(only if you want me to) #(consent is sexy haha) #anyway byeeeeee

[cybiirz]

ೃ⁀➷ THE FACADE OF A PUPPETEER

Wriothesley x Fem!reader

Sypnosis : Many moons ago, you were sent to the Fortress Of Meropide for a number of crimes, ones that even criminals would name you evil for. However, even with your already busted up reputation upon entry, in a few short years, you had managed to become one of the most respected prisoners in the Fortress. Your ways were unquestioned by others, but not by the Warden himself. That is what caused you to be stuck having a tea party with the man. Although his attempt at fishing the information out of you seemed unsuccessful at first, it seems you were becoming excited to see where this would lead. But maybe there was also another operation happening, one where your true self would have to finally be revealed.

WC : 1.7K

WARNINGS : Mentions of murder, Wriothesley might be a little ooc idk, reader is manipulative, not rlly much else

A prison warden such as himself would typically be considered strict, would he not? Well, he went against those expectations, mostly. He was surprisingly a kind soul compared to many of the other guards considering the fact that he actually cared for the prisoners well being.

But there was one inmate who just constantly got under his skin. You. In all fairness, you were actually quite the intelligent woman. In the few years you had been pretty much living here, you had already managed to gain many others' trust.

That didn’t mean you were kind though, all inmates had a side of theirs with some evil intent, otherwise they wouldn’t be here. The way you had climbed the ranks seemed to be legit on the outside, but Wriothesley had become curious and did some digging of his own.

And lo and behold, the sweet lady who was too kind for her own good was one of the most deceitful people he’s ever heard of. Gaining coupons by simple pick pocketing wasn’t unheard of, but he had learnt that you were too advanced to participate in such a measly method.

No, instead you would manage to get your hands on other’s coupons through secret events. Small competitions were held that were supposedly led by different people each time. But there was always a mastermind behind the puppet. That mastermind was unknown to the public.

Every person who hosted said competitions seemed to have no links towards each other whatsoever. What no one else knew however was that they all led back to one person, and that person would be in charge of the coupons gained. It was almost like gambling, stupid people would bet their coupons and would either win or lose.

But you were not one to rig such games, goodness no. That would be diabolical. All you had was lady luck by your side. But Wriothesley didn’t buy it, for he had figured out that you practically ran the prison without people being aware. The amount of coupons had earned you respect and power, the two things that could easily become others' downfall.

Which is why he was surprised you hadn’t fallen just yet. The warden had become increasingly suspicious of your activities and would always be on the watch for you. But no matter how hard he tried, your facade of being this gentle soul was always up and about. He had to catch you some other way. Which is how you ended up here.

“Good evening, your Grace. Is this an urgent matter, because I highly doubt you would call someone into your office for a small debuckle,” You questioned the man as you finally stepped onto the floor of his office. Wriothesley sat there with one elbow propped on the arm of the chair and the other flat against the opposite arm.

“No no, nothing you need to be too worried about. Come, take a seat,” He gestured towards the chair in front of him as he stood up and made his way over to the shelf. “May I interest you in some tea?” He asked, his back facing you.

“I’ll pass unfortunately, I recently ate something from the cafeteria so i’m quite full up myself,” You politely declined his offer before taking a seat onto the cushioned stool. You crossed one leg over the other as you placed both hands into your lap.

“Suit yourself. Now, I don’t mean to waste your time here, but I would like to give you some…praise,” He commented as he began to heat up a kettle and grab a tea cup from the shelf. You raised an eyebrow.

“May I ask what for? I do not recall doing something explicitly amazing,” You replied in honest confusion. You heard him let out a chuckle as he poured the hot water into the cup and placed the bag into the liquid.

“Yes I suppose you’re right. What you have done isn’t explicit to anyone else. And it is rather impressive how fast you have managed to gain coupons here,” He took a seat, now sitting opposite you as he spread his legs to get comfier into the chair. Surprisingly, it was weirdly attractive.

“Ah yes, I consider myself astronomically lucky with the amount of coupons I have gained so far. Not to mention the friends I made along the way,” Your response was confident and bright. Just the behaviour he expected.

“Mhm, most people would call it luck as well. However, based on my observation, I would call it something different,” His eyes bore into yours as the two of you made direct eye contact.

“Oh? And what would you call it sir?” You asked in a low tone. The two of you were both aware that he was onto you, but playing along wouldn’t hurt you.

“Pure strategy. From the moment you stepped onto these grounds, you had a plan in mind. One that would immediately raise you to be a respected person which I admire. My only question is, what are the chances you could give me every step of that plan right here and now?” This caused you to become slightly bewildered. He wanted to know your plan?

“And what exactly would that gain you?” You replied. He let out another short laugh before leaning forward slightly.

“It doesn’t need to gain me anything. All I want to know about is the brain behind that beauty of yours,” His remark was shamelessly flirtatious.

“Do you believe that simple flattery will get you anywhere, warden? Do not forget, you are also a prisoner here, all you have earned is the privilege to this fortress’s budget and management. I do not think you deserve my plans. Now if you will excuse me, there is a sparring match in the Pankration Ring which I would rather not miss,” As you began to stand up and dust off your clothing, you made your way towards the steps.

But before you could even step foot onto the metal, a shadow came up behind you before a voice practically rumbled against the walls.

“I don’t believe we have finished this conversation yet,” Wriothesley’s voice was intimidating to say the least, but you immediately retracted your foot and turned your head over your shoulder before turning back to face him again.

You reached out and grabbed the loose tie of his. “Tell you what, how about you let me go and see that match that I have just been dying to experience,” You tightened the red material before patting the knot and felt part of his rough skin against your hands. “And then you can take me on a date and we continue this later under…different circumstances hm?”

Your eyes turned up to face him as you put on that innocent act. Archons, he didn’t expect your teasing to have this much effect on him. Nevertheless, he decided to go along with it.

“I’ll pick you up at 5:30 sharp. Dress pretty, I like girls who put in effort,” He brought his face closer to yours as you felt his breath just brushing your lips. The tension was so thick that you’d practically need a sword to cut through it.

“Count on it,” Your reply was short before you turned away again, making your way down the steps. Wriothesley eyed your figure down as you finally disappeared from his line of sight. Once you did, he went back to his table and picked up a document.

“(Name) (Last Name)

Convicted for first degree murder of *********, ********* and *******.

Danger : Extreme. Do not let her number of facades fool you. Lay low and do not interact, instead observe from a distance. She is evil and we sent her to the Fortress Of Meropide for you to straighten this demon out. Do not disappoint us warden.”

“So much for laying low…” Wriothesley mumbled to himself. How on earth was he going to change your ways…?

A/N : Yeahhh so it’s been about 2-3 weeks since I wrote smth so i’m very sorry for that. I don’t really know how to continue Gepard’s series but I definitely want to. If anyone wants to pitch any ideas, please do. But I am going to be occupied with a bunch of upcoming tests for the next week or two. Until then, i’ll most likely write headcannons, oneshots and maybe some short fics for whatever character you guys want. Apologies again for the long break.

#genshin x reader #genshin fanfic #genshin #genshin x you #genshin x female reader #genshin x y/n #wriothesley #wriothesley x y/n #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley x you #genshin impact #genshin imagines