#all but disappears for several days in a row

[orcelito]

OK I think I'm done. For now.

[commonbard]

[g0dlyunsub]

make you mine.

spencer notices that you’ve been skipping a few too many team socials.

pairing :: spencer x fem bau!reader

warnings :: romantic confessions, mentions of alcohol, mental health, hurt/comfort, plenty of fluff, spencer is a huge softie

word count :: 2.3k

author’s note :: don’t think i’ve written anything where reader and spencer confess their feelings for each other?? anyways here’s to more hurt/comfort 

accompanying song :: sugar by brockhampton

“who’s up for drinks at o’keefe’s?”

a loud cheer erupts as the elevator doors open and reveals garcia standing in front of the entrance with a gleeful smile.

“count me in!” jj raises a hand and emily promptly follows suit. the two giggle as they lean in to embrace the tech analyst festively decorated with bright red jewelry.

when rossi declares the first round’s on me! the room breaks into an even louder celebration, whistles and applause sounding left and right.

moving past the crowd with a few happy chants of your own, you finally settle in your seat and stretch. sighing, you shuffle through the pile of case files sitting on your desk and stuff several into your shoulder bag. you tie up your hair and take out a pen from your pencil holder. once again exhaling with a deep sigh, you flip through the remaining manila folders, ready to document all of the evidence after today’s investigation.

“you’re coming, right?”

you crane your neck to your left to identify the source of the voice and see morgan, hands on his hips as he scans your face for your usual smile teeming with enthusiasm. you offer a feeble smile instead, shaking your head as you point to the case file you’re working on.

“i’d really love to, but… this paper isn’t going to write itself.”

“oh come on, not again. when’s it due?”

“tomorrow noon,” you mumble, gently rolling your head to the side to relieve the pain that’s been begging for release.

“you’re kidding. well, text me if you need a hand, or if you just want company.” morgan pats your back and turns around to leave, but not without first flashing you a wink. you watch as he slings his arm around garcia’s shoulder and as the rest of the team follow the pair out of the office, each giving you a wave before they disappear into the elevator.

“you’re not going?”

you turn around to see spencer, who’s just coming out of hotch’s office and holding a case file of his own. he turns off the lights upstairs and walks down the stairs, stopping once he’s in front of your desk.

“oh, um, no. i just need to finish writing this up really quickly, and then i’ll head back.”

you brush a strand of hair behind your ear and turn in your seat to get back to work, but spencer pulls up a chair beside you.

“that’s the third time in a row you’ve said no to them. you okay?”

you sit still for a second, unsure of how to respond. when spencer leans his elbow on the side of your desk, you know he’s not going to leave without an answer, so you look back at him hesitantly.

“yeah, i’m good. what’s keeping you here?”

“i just left a request to take two days off.”

“oh, nice. yeah, you seriously deserve a break,” you nod and offer a small smile. despite your friendly expression, the tiredness in your voice overrides your genuine words. before you can expose any more of your sluggish lethargy, you revert your attention back to your documents.

“yeah, and so do you.”

you turn to meet his gaze. a serious expression overtakes his usually lax face, tense facial muscles raising his brows and clenching his jaw.

you don’t know how to dispel the air of its building tension so you chuckle, playfully hitting him in the arm and shaking your head. “oh no, that’s- that’s not necessary. i’m fine, spence. besides, i took a break pretty recently.”

you rub your forehead tiredly as you speak and cock your head to the side, as if waiting for spencer’s dismissal so that you can get back to work.

“you haven’t requested a day off in 102 days. that’s 2448 hours.” spencer lowers his chin and studies you with his unwavering eyes. you feel your heart flutter alarmingly at his stare; you swallow slowly.

of course he’d be the one to count the days, no, the exact hour, since your last break. you try to play it off again by nudging him in the elbow, but he looks way too serious, concerned even. your arm hangs in the air with no warmth to latch on to.

“do you want to talk about it?” 

when spencer leans forward, you feel your throat run dry. holding your breath, you weigh your next words very carefully.

“spence, i’m fine. i don’t need the time off.”

“too late.”

“what?” your jaw sets uncomfortably when you hear spencer’s response, and a hint of amusement flickers in his eyes before he quickly narrows them.

“it wasn’t just my request that i submitted. i put in yours as well.”

“wait- wait what?” 

“yeah, hotch just wanted me to leave a physical copy for the sake of documentation. but he approved both of our requests before we even landed.”

“hold up… spence, you just… why would you do that?”

surprisingly, you don’t feel mad. yes, he’s just submitted a leave request without your permission, but maybe this is what you needed. someone to force you to take a break, because otherwise, you’d just work yourself to your death.

“like i said, you haven’t taken a leave in 102 days. constantly overworking yourself is detrimental and can lead to burnout because of the buildup of fatigue. in the long run, it can impair your memory and thinking. so,” he says as he grasps the pen out of your hand and closes your folder, “do you want to talk about it?”

as if he’s perfectly hit your pressure point, the tiredness you’ve been masking this entire time instantly unwinds. you let out a deep, weary sigh.

“you know, two weekends ago, when we went down to south carolina to investigate that case? and i stayed back for a few hours?”

out of the corner of your eye, you see spencer nod.

“well, i met up with a friend from college. we just hung out, you know, tried to catch up with each other.”

when you emit a stressed laugh, spencer reaches for your hand. he gently kneads your palm, and you take it as a signal to continue at your own pace. you turn your head to the side so you can take in the sight of him more fully.

“as we kept talking, i realized how she has so many friends, so much fun outside of her work. she’s even getting married in two months. and i just thought… i honestly wished for a second that she was a little more lonely, like me.”

you close your eyes, instantly regretting your confession. are you really making him listen to your childish concerns? you wish he’d laugh at you, dismiss it as plain stupidity and tell you that you were right to keep it to yourself. but he won’t, because he’s spencer reid.

spencer watches you intently, at how you force out a laugh and brush the tears that are welling up in your eyes. he observes the way you shake your head and refuse to look him in the eye.

“i’m so selfish, aren’t i? this whole thing–it’s so stupid. what am i saying, what am i even doing, wishing for something so foul?” your face crumples as you speak, and the words trail off into an absorbed mumble between your sniffles.

“it’s not stupid. you’re not selfish,” spencer hums quietly, lightly brushing his fingers against your cheek and dragging his thumb across your eyelashes to sweep your tears.

a strangled sob spills from your throat, and you lean into his touch, burying your cheek further into his palm. spencer waits patiently for you to recollect yourself, and coos a constant stream of it’s okay in your ear.

“at first, i thought it was the job, spence,” you finally utter your broken thoughts with a dry laugh, “but then i saw how everyone else was dealing with it. emily, jj, garcia. and then i realized, it’s me.”

spencer swivels your chair and draws you closer to him, so your thighs are lying between his legs. like a confused puppy, you let out a small yelp of surprise.

“you need to understand, y/n, that it takes time to find your rhythm, whether that’s at work, with your social life, or just a new place. so don’t compare yourself to others, because we’re all worried about something, and we’re all at different stages of coping.”

his longing glance breaches your lips, and you lower your eyes shyly. his soft-spokenness, undivided attention, and effortless verbal magic read your emotions like an open book. you don’t have to hide. the tears fall, fast and hard.

“let it all out. it’s okay. it’s always okay to cry, but you know what’s not okay? bottling it up all the time.” he pats your knees and rubs his palms across your trousers soothingly. 

“bottling your feelings constantly, it’s what psychologists call repressive coping. numerous studies have found that repressive coping has been linked to a less resilient immune system, higher vulnerability to cardiovascular disease, as well as proneness to certain mental health conditions, including anxiety and depression,” spencer continues while looking at you sympathetically with his soft brown eyes. 

slowly, you coil your arms around his neck and hold him in a tight embrace. 

“you’re not really fair, spencer, you know that?”

“what do you mean?”

“you can’t just cite all these cool facts when you speak. i don’t have an argument to toss back at you.”

spencer pulls away from the embrace slightly, and looks down at you with eyes full of mirth. he bursts into a small spate of giggles, and it’s contagious, because you also exhale a bubbly laugh.

“i can’t help it,” he breathes quietly, and the air that exits his lips tickles your eyelashes.

spencer continues to watch you with the same stare a sculptor would possess over a block of marble, and breathes warmth into your body. you finally let your arms loose and withdraw from the hug, grinning shyly.

“let me finish this report, and i’ll head back with you. what am i even going to do with the two days off anyways?” 

“i was thinking that we could check out the steam engine festival that’s happening downtown? the 611 is actually the sole surviving member of fourteen class j locomotives produced by the norfolk and western railway, and there’s going to be special excursions reserved for interested passengers.”

you laugh as spencer happily goes on his ramble, and you go back to writing your report – this time with a rejuvenated spirit.

“be honest, spence. you submitted my request because you wanted someone to go with you to this festival, didn’t you?”

“what? no!” spencer shakes his head, but your suspicions only grow when he starts fidgeting with his fingers.

“if you say so,” you grin cheekily, “but i could really use a drink tonight. you coming?”

spencer nods. he waits for you to finish up your edits and sign off the last page of the document, and helps you pack the rest of your belongings into your bag. with a boyish smile, he offers you his elbow, and you loop your arm in his. 

there’s a lot to be thankful for, a lot to be hopeful for, and a lot to love spencer for.

“spencer?” you ask quietly. spencer hums back in response. 

you don’t know why, but a sudden wave of confidence washes over you, urging you to say your next words without holding back.

“i like you.”

you thought your years spent concealing your feelings for spencer would have culminated in a much more formulated confession, but it’s too late to retrace your steps.  

almost immediately, spencer looks at you with widened eyes. you’re almost scared he’s going to abandon you and run away in a nervous flight, but he stays put, his cheeks flushing with the shade of deep red.

“y-you can’t be drunk already,” he stammers and then abruptly chuckles, making you wonder if he’s just attempted to respond to your confession with a joke.

but maybe you are drunk, drunk from the hazy feeling of love and the highs of spilling the emotional torrent earlier. you furrow your brows and fix your stare on the office floor.

“no, spencer, i like you as in i really like you. like, romantically.” 

spencer hesitates this time, moving only to press the elevator call button. you think you’ve just screwed up, right then and there, because his brows shoot up in surprise while his lips thin into a line. 

but then slowly, he smiles, his hazel colored eyes light up, and his gaze darts left and right excitedly. 

maybe all of the stars have aligned perfectly, because the air starts to collapse in on itself rapidly, and he stoops down to press a shaky kiss on your lips. it’s unlike anything you’ve ever shared with him, so different from when he hugs you, when he ruffles your hair, when he pats your back. it’s so tender and he leaves you to glow in the warmth of his lingering touch. 

it’s only after he does this that you realize that you’ve actually just confessed to your coworker, the man you’ve had a crush on for so long, the reason why you show up to work with a smile. before you can second-guess anything, spencer grabs your wrist and pulls you in. it starts with small pecks, but then he works up to a bigger kiss; by the time the elevator arrives, you’ve fully melted into his arms.

“2190 days.”

you look up to meet his blissful gaze with your own love-tainted eyes. “hm?”

“that’s the number of days that have passed since i first met you and started to work with you. i uh,” spencer swallows, toying with the strands on his leather bag nervously. 

he opens his mouth, only to shut it immediately after. he looks at you with a shy smile, the bashfulness dimpling his cheeks, and then clears his throat.

“i like you too.”

[dominantslasherking]

Billy and Stu with dominant Male S/o

My Stories are meant for the much more mature audience, 18+. Backstory: You always manage to catch Billy and Stu's eyes on you, whether it be in the college classroom, or when you're purchase horror stuff, they always seem to follow you. Even in your house you still feel their gazes

The dimly lit college classroom was buzzing with chatter, but not loud enough for the professor to call on anyone. Minding your own business as you were taking notes and sketching little side characters on your notebook out of boredom. Eyes were lingering on you, It wasn't the typical glance or side glance.

The lingering eyes were strong and made you feel a cool sensation run down your spine. With a simple turn of the head, you spotted the two. Billy and Stu, how could not know them? Not only did they garner attention all over the college campus. You would always, always catch them staring, although they may be fast to react and look away.

It can't be a coincidence they just always stare at you, not to mention being in the areas you were, your favorite locations, dining areas.

But the really not-so-funny part is, every time you do end up making a friend at this college, they end up disappearing. It had gotten so bad that even your fellow students grew weary of you, believing you were the infamous 'scream' killer.

However after a night in jail and the kills were happening when you were locked up, you were cleared of suspicion but of course not from the college students.

Once the class ended. You made your way out slinging your bag over the shoulder and sighing.

Almost meticulously, with severe calculation Billy had bumped straight into you. He gave a pretty smile as Billy watched you pick up his books. "Thanks, hah," Billy said his eye gleaming with an intense undertone of desire and pure want.

"It's my fault, I should watch where I was going...lost in thought." Your husky voice mutters, stacking Billy's books neatly in your hand before returning them, noticing the subtle hand movement of Billy where his hand brushed against yours.

Turning your gaze to Billy's friend Stu. Stu was silent, his eyes roaming you. The typically loud and humorous friend was silent strange enough, he licked his lips and gave a big smile. "Wow! I love that shirt!" Billy's face fell at Stu's words, elbowing him in the stomach, not enough to cause him severe pain but make him go 'ow'

"What was that for?!" Stu muttered with a pout. "You idiot, his shirt is just plain gray! what do you mean you like it?" Billy scolded, hinting that he knew Stu was checking [Name] out, and now you probably knew that Stu was eyeballing you.

"Ohhh." Stu muttered, as they continued to whisper and bicker among themselves.

Your chuckle made them pause. "sorry, sorry, you guys are just--funny that's all." You spoke softly, you thought they were cute. Bidding them goodbye, you walk out of the classroom.

Billy stared at stu.

"Whattt? Not my fault he's so sexy!" Stu grumbled out.

<<>>><<>>><><><><><<<>>>>

Later that day. You were at the DVD shop, looking through the thriller/horror second, making sure to get your hands on some classics.

With a loud and abrupt clank, your gaze faltered on the row across from you.

"Oops, did I ruin your guy's peeping session?" Randy had asked Billy and Stu. Stu gritted his teeth, Billy gave a urked glare. But the two of them knowing, your gaze was on them resisted doing something they were dying to do. They would just have to get back at him later.

"Wow! [Name], Thriller & horror movies? Nice dude!" Stu cheered pretending as if he didn't already know that about you...

Stu had started to chitter-chatter with you, while Billy was shooing and waving Randy off. Soon after Randy complied (after rolling his eyes and snarky comments) leaving the three of you alone.

"Ehm,--Well Billy and I, we love those types of genres!" Stu happily said as Billy's attention was now drawn to you, his feverish gaze landing on your lips every time you spoke. Taking a pause you spoke, "Really? why don't you two, come over sometime, we can watch them together?" You ask, as the two slashers freeze, slowly turning to look at each other and then back at you.

"What's the matter?...you don't want to---" Before you could finish what you wanted to say, Billy cut you off. "No-! No, we would love to."

Nodding you smiled, "Sure next time in class, we should set up a time and date." After bidding farewell, and purchasing the movies you got, you left, leaving Billy and Stu to celebrate together.

<<>>><<>>><><><><><<<>>>>

Pausing the movie, you itched the back of your neck, a feeling of a sense of dread washed over you. You had it again. Like someone, was watching, analyzing, observing you.

"Fuck." a whisper, under your breath, as you got up to check your popcorn. Walking to the kitchen, you take out the bowl of popcorn, setting it down as the phone rings.

"Hello?" "What's your favorite scary movie, [Name]?"

[reidbae]

Elation

summary: You arrive late to your profiling class, and your entrance turn all eyes on you: Including a certain brunette professor's.

pairing: sub!prof!spencer reid x dom!fem!reader

warnings/mentions: teacher x student relationship, age gap (reader is 22+ and spencer is 32+), AFAB!reader, palming, choking, hair pulling, unprotected piv sex (do not do this pls), vaginal sex, degradation (m receiving), praise (m and f receiving), use of y/n before smut but ma'am and miss during, mild breeding kink, public sex technically, use of a gag, literally just filth tbh, reader is the dom but spencer's kinda bratty/semi-dominant and bites her back, idc if this is unrealistic BUT NO ONE SEES Y'ALL OK

a/n: HELLO i am very sorry for my disappearance and i am very glad to be back! also thank y’all for 200 followers wtf <3 i hope you like this! :) (also see if you can catch the 68 kill reference)

w/c: 4k

You walked as quickly as you could to your class, your heels making your presence loud and known as you held your bag over your shoulder, a late pass in your hand.

You had to finish a test for another class that morning, and, as a result, would be late to your first class of the day, your profiling class. You had warned your professor, Professor Reid, ahead of time that you would be late to his class today, but it wasn't going to make walking in any less embarrassing, especially if he was in the middle of a lecture.

You were wearing a short red dress, that clearly accentuated your figure, and it was a bit revealing around your chest. You were in black heels, too, and your hair and makeup made you look incredibly dolled up. Not that you had anything in particular going on today, but it wasn't a crime to look good, was it?

Besides, some attention from Professor Reid wouldn't hurt.

The man was undeniably attractive. Older, yes, but attractive. You weren't one of those girls who was only auditing his class to stare at him, but anyone in their right mind would take a liking to both him and his appearance.

Not that you were looking for the attention (Or were you?), but it would be nice.

You pushed open the door to the classroom, and you instantly muttered a number of expletives under your breath as the door creaked loudly. All eyes immediately landed on you, including Professor Reid's, but you maintained your composure.

Your presence cut Spencer off mid-sentence, and, as you suspected, he was in the middle of a lecture when you opened the classroom door. His eyes bored into yours, quickly scanning your figure, as you tried to close the door as quietly as possible.

You walked down to the front of the classroom to give Spencer your late pass, your heels clicking the wooden floor, that, in that moment, seemed to be creakier than the door. You felt like you were on a runway with the way everyone was staring at you, and your walk was earning several whistles and murmurs from your classmates.

It was only tolerable because you knew that the only reason everyone was staring was because you looked good.

"Sorry I'm late, sir," you said to Spencer as you handed him your late pass. His face was red, redder than you'd ever seen it, and—Was that sweat on his forehead? Once again, his eyes shamelessly roamed your body, and he had to clear his throat to get himself to talk.

"No worries. I hope your test went well," Spencer smiled at you. You muttered a brief, "Thank you," before taking a seat in the front row.

As you did, the whistles and chatter from your classmates continued, to which Spencer responded, "Okay, relax. I'm sure if Miss Y/L/N wanted those completely inappropriate whistles, she would ask for them." Your classmates chatter dissolved into laughter at the comment, and your face broke into a smile. "Now, shall we?"

For the entirety of the lecture, Spencer's eyes seemed to never leave yours, or your outfit. You knew that it wasn't technically abnormal for him to be looking at you, considering the fact that he was giving a lecture, and would naturally be looking at the class, but the attention his eyes were giving you was too hard to ignore.

After class, you were finishing up your notes as the rest of your class filed out of the room. Once you were done, you were the last one left in the classroom, and you were putting your notebook into your bag when another voice cut through the silence: Spencer's voice.

He cleared his throat, then said, "Do you have any last minute questions for me, Y/N?"

"Oh, no, that's okay, Professor," you returned. "Just needed to put some final touches on my notes, that's all," you smiled warmly.

"Alright, then. Do you have a class after this?" he asked you. You noticed that he was no longer where he stood for his lectures in the front of the class, but in front of your desk, and you weren't exactly sure when he'd got there.

"Yeah, but I've got time," you said. "Why, did you need something?"

Why did you even ask him that?

Spencer's face lit up in a blush at your words, and he shook his head. "Me? Oh, no. I just wanted to make sure you wouldn't be late. If you need a pass, or need me to call anyone, I can."

"Oh, thanks. I think I'll be okay, though," you told him. Spencer nodded, his eyes wavering over you once more, and this time, you returned his gaze, allowing your eyes to soar between his face, lips, suit, and—Belt.

After a moment of silence, you cleared your throat, and spoke up once more. "What about you? Any classes to teach after this?" you asked, resting your hand on your hip.

"I've got my, uhm, prep block until 12 P.M., so, technically not," Spencer explained to you. You noticed the way he paused, stammering in your presence, and the nervous look across his face. You cocked an eyebrow.

"I see. That's good," you said with a shrug. He responded with a quiet, "Yeah."

"Can I ask you something, Professor Reid?" you asked as you looked up at him with a quizzical expression.

He nodded. "Yes, Y/N, what is it?" Spencer returned.

"Do I make you uncomfortable?" you finally blurted as you allowed your curiosity to get the best of you. Spencer raised his eyebrows, and, if it was even possible, his face got redder than it already was.

"What? No, of course you don't make me uncomfortable. Why do you ask?"

"Well, you've got your hands in your pockets, and you've taught us that people hide their hands when they're nervous. You're also red, and it looks like you're sweating," you shrugged. "You just look uncomfortable, and I was wondering if I had something to do with that."

Spencer looked down and chuckled. He licked his lips before saying, "Sometimes, I forget that I teach you how to analyze people's behavior. But you don't make me uncomfortable, Y/N, I promise," he assured you. And yet, his hands remained hidden, his face remained pink, and the truth remained buried.

And, although you had a good idea of what it could be, you were determined to figure it out.

"Well, there must be something going on, Professor," you pushed as you walked around your desk. The two of you were even closer, face to face, at that, and Spencer swallowed.

"Y/N—" he breathed as you moved closer to him.

"I've seen the way you look at me. It's kind of obvious. You'd think a profiler would hide that better," you smirked up at him.

Spencer cleared his throat. "I'm not sure I know what you're talking about," he murmured as he looked down at the ground.

You bit your lip, incredibly aroused by how riled up he seemed to be by your voice alone, and put a hand on his chest. "I think you know exactly what I'm talking about, Professor."

"You're not that subtle, either," he said. His brown eyes looked down to meet yours, and as they did, you could now clearly see the sweat perspiring on his forehead.

"I'm not trying to be. You, on the other hand, attempt so desperately to bury your feelings, probably because you know how wrong this is. Honestly, it's cute," you said, your thumb tracing absentminded circles in the middle of his chest.

You used your other hand now, both hands now smoothing soft circles higher, just below his shoulders. Spencer's breath hitched in his throat as he watched you, but a small smirk mirroring yours played across his face now.

"This is wrong," he said softly to you. "I'm your professor."

"That doesn't stop you from wanting me so badly," you didn't hesitate to remind him. Your next words came out in a whisper as you leaned closer and said, "It's okay. I want you, too."

That was all it took for Spencer to finally lean in, crashing his lips onto yours, taking your face into his hands, and God, was it hot. You kissed him back with mirroring desperation, pulling his body impossibly closer to yours. That was when Spencer took you into his arms, lifting you with ease, and sitting on the chair of your desk, placing you on his lap so that you were straddling him.

"Someone's eager," you teased between kisses. All he could do was nod, too desperate for more, too desperate for you. He pulls you back in, tongue riding yours as his hands forcefully grip your hips.

You hold his face, pressing him as close to you as you possibly can, and eventually, without even thinking, you slowly grind your hips on his lap. He responds with a whorish moan, looking up at you with an expression that said nothing but lust.

"Oh, God, you're so hard. You like that, huh?" you asked in a teasing voice.

"Y- Yeah, fuck," Spencer responded, hands digging further into your hips.

"Save your voice," you rasped. "You'll need it for when I fuck you."

"Y- Y/N, your class," Spencer reminded you in a stutter as your hands played with his belt.

"Ten minutes is all I need with you, Professor," you smiled, catching your bottom lip between your teeth as Spencer's belt clattered to the ground. "Besides, you can write me a late pass, can't you?"

"Yes. Yes, I can," he moaned.

"Then, don't worry about the time. Worry, about this," you said. With that, you dipped your hand into his now unzipped pants, touching him gently through his boxers. Spencer's eyes immediately closed, and his head cocking backwards ever so slightly.

"Oh, fuck, Y/N, that's-" Spencer whined, cutting himself off with another moan.

"Hm, Professor?" you teased nonchalantly, as if you were merely discussing your latest assignment. "What is it?"

"Good," he finished. "So good."

You chuckled at the sloppy, desperate view in front of you, your hand just barely touching Spencer's hard, aching cock, and him falling apart for it, sweat sticking several hairs to his forehead.

"Anyone could walk in and see you so needy for me like this," you chuckled. He was about to respond, but you quickened your movements, pressing your hand harder and eliciting a whine from him.

"I don't care," he shook his head. "This feels too good."

"Tell me how much you want this, Professor," you cooed softly, your words leaving your lips as a husky whisper. Your hand pressed down on Spencer's hard dick, taking what you could hold into your hand through his boxers.

"I want this, Y/N," Spencer said quickly, hands roaming your hips and back as he spoke in a soft tone. That rosy blush had never left his face as you responded with, "How much?"

"So much," he said desperately. "God, please, Y/N," he begged, neither of you even entirely sure what he was begging you for.

"That's pretty vague," you chuckle. "Tell me, Professor. Please, what?" you snap.

"Shit, I want to feel you, Y/N," Spencer whined in the brattiest tone you'd heard from him, evidently impatient for your touch.

As soon as the words leave his lips, one of your hands yanks his hair and pulls him back, to which he immediately groans.

"First of all, Spencer, don't fucking sass me. Second of all, I don't want my name to fall from your lips until I've got you coming and moaning it. Nod if you understand me, Spencer," your voice rang out in a domineering tone.

Taken aback by your tone, and so not used to being spoken to like this in his own goddamn classroom, Spencer shyly nodded, his cheeks a vibrant pink.

"Listening for once, huh? About time. You can call me ma'am or miss until I've got you where I want you. Is that clear?" you asked him. All this time, your hands had never stopped touching Spencer, and he had had a hard time responding to you this entire time through small whimpers and groans.

Spencer only nodded, to which you shook your head.

"Say it."

"Yes, ma'am."

"That's a good boy," you praised him softly as you leaned in closer, an amused smile across your face. "I'm going to fuck you so good. Is that something you'd want, baby?"

"Y- Yes, ma'am, it is," Spencer's hoarse voice rasped out. "You're sure you want to do this here? I could easily take you to my office, miss."

You giggled at his cluelessness as the hand that was touching him came to run through his hair. Didn't he know how much hotter the risk made this? Your fingers played with his soft locks as you answered, "Oh, sweetheart, you and I both know that you can't wait that long. Besides, I don't care who walks in. They'll see how desperate you are for me, and it'll be you who has to explain," you teased.

Spencer's face reddened as he fumbled with his words. "I- Well- Okay," he decided, because of his physical incapability to say anything else.

"Anyways, if you keep it quiet, there'll be nothing to worry about. So, do me a favor," you teased as you pushed your thumb into his mouth. "And keep your mouth shut. You can do that, baby, can't you?" you whispered. Spencer nodded with urgency.

"That's good. That's so, so good, Professor," you teased him. Your free hand came down to hike up your dress, revealing to Spencer your lace panties, that weren't covering all that much. The view made Spencer whimper out with need, only encouraging you to remove them at a tantalizingly slow pace.

You held eye contact with Spencer as you removed them entirely, discarding them on the desk behind the two of you. Next, you removed Spencer's cock from his boxers, biting back a moan at the view you were met with.

You knew he'd pack a lot from the day he'd become your professor, but, God, to see it in person like this, long, hard, and aching for you was almost too much.

"Jesus Christ, Professor. I've got you so worked up over what should be considered nothing in comparison to what I'm about to do to you," you smirked. You took his cock into your hand, pumping him up and down a few times, which only increased his desperation as he moaned around your finger. "Ready?" you asked finally.

Spencer could only nod, his face a deep scarlet hue, hips bucking up into your exposed cunt. You smirked.

Finally, you lowered yourself onto his cock. You'd fantasized about this moment so many times, and no amount of hours of touching yourself to the notion could even amount to the real thing.

Your pace was slow as you rode him, both hands digging into Spencer's soft brown locks. He lets out a moan he isn't sure how long he's been holding as you release your thumb from his mouth, and his hands instantaneously grip your hips as you start to ride him.

"Oh, God, Spencer, you're big," you praise him as your eyes shut. Your mouth doesn't, though, as small whines and whimpers fall from it, your lips curling up into a smirk.

"Th- Thank you, miss," Spencer whines back, rubbing soft, slow circles into your hips. He moves your dress out of the way so he can see you completely, hiking it up to your torso, and basking in the view of you. "You're so beautiful, miss. So, so beautiful."

All you can do is giggle as heat rises to your face. Once again, you bite your lip as you say, "Fucking my professor in his own classroom. So unethical and yet so, so hot," you rasp as you open your eyes again, gazing into his.

"You look so good," he tells you again, his words coming out in a pant. "You feel so good."

You pulled him back by his hair, exposing his neck, that was now entirely at your disposal, and attacking it with your lips. You press your lips against him with hunger, kissing and sucking, leaving as many marks as you please. The world was going to know he was yours if you had anything to say about it.

"You like how dirty this is, don't you, Professor?" you muttered, as close to his ear as you could possibly be. "You like the fact that anyone could walk in and see you falling apart for me, huh?"

Spencer only whimpers in response, squeezing your hips harder and shifting a bit as you continue to ride him, your pace quickening. That wasn't the answer you were looking for, and once you were sure he wasn't going to verbally answer you, you say, in a teasing voice, "Oh, come on, sir, give me more than that."

The moment you say this, an expression flashes across his face, one that can only be described as pornographic. It's whorish and needy, and you're almost worried you've already made him come, until you realize exactly why he just looked at you like that.

You chuckle and shake your head, unaware that he could somehow become more desperate than he already was. "What was that look for, sir?" You enunciate the word once more, and Spencer turns his eyes away from yours.

You grab his face, turning him to look at you, and rasp, "You like it when I call you 'sir', don't you, Professor?"

"Yes, miss. Very much," he instantly confessed to you. You smirked.

"Good, because I'm going to keep calling you it," you smile, and he nods in approval. Your hips continue to snap against Spencer's cock as you use him to pleasure the two of you completely.

"Open your mouth for me, sweetheart," you coo. Spencer couldn't oblige any faster, and when he does, you insert your thumb back into it. "Suck."

Spencer sucks like a man dehydrated, wrapping his lips around your finger with a look of compliance, incredibly eager to be as obedient as you want him to be.

"Such a good boy. I like seeing you so slutty like this. Because that's what you are, isn’t it?" you tease, giggling. You ride his dick to the top, pause for only a second, and crash back down onto him. "My slut."

Spencer nodded in return, his puppy eyes boring into yours as he gags around your finger. You remove it from his mouth and say, "Say it."

"I'm your slut, miss. I'm all yours," he indulges you.

"That's what I like to hear," you smiled. "Fucking you in such a public place when anyone could walk in. Such a bad girl, aren't I, Professor?"

"Yeah, you are a bad girl," Spencer moans out. His hands move from your hips to your tits, taking one in each hand, and working quickly with them. You moan when he does.

He's not only desperate for you, but desperate to make you feel good, too.

"Oh, that's so fucking good, Professor," you whine. Your movements grow quicker, as you both grow desperate to feel Spencer as deep inside your cunt as you possibly can be, and you groan out.

"I'm so, so glad, miss," he says in, arguably, his most submissive tone yet, and you bite your lip as blood runs to your face, flushing it with a red hue that surely mirrors Spencer's.

"You're so good for me, Professor," you moan.

"Fuck, miss, please say my name," Spencer begs you. One of his hands squeezes your waist again, eliciting a lewd moan from you, and you can't help but oblige.

"Spencer," you whine.

"Again," Spencer moans back, fondling your tit harder with one hand, and squeezing down on your hip as forcefully as possible with the other.

"Spencer," you moaned again, maintaining eye contact with him as his name fell from your lips.

"Yeah, just like that, miss," said Spencer.

As if it's the most natural thing in the world, you dip your head back into the crook of his neck, and begin to kiss him there. You bite hard enough to leave marks, and suck with enough force to leave a trail of hickeys wherever your lips touch.

Spencer's a whimpering mess above you, and as much as you love how vocal he's being, you don't love the idea of someone hearing the two of you, as much as you'd said you did.

The idea was hot, but getting caught fucking your profiling professor by a classmate, or God forbid, another professor, was absolutely mortifying, and not on your to-do list today.

"Keep it down, Spencer. Don't make me shut you up," you warned him between kisses. You bring a hand up to squeeze his neck. Surely, a bit of choking would get to his head, wouldn’t it?

It doesn't, and he stutters out above you, his voice broken and whiny. "M- Miss, I-" but he doesn't even finish his sentence as he cuts himself off with his own moan.

You remember the lace panties you'd forgotten on the desk a while ago, and the hand that isn't choking Spencer naturally reaches back to grab them. Without thinking twice, you shove them into Spencer's mouth, and he groans around them.

"I told you to shut up. Don't think you can misbehave and I won't punish you for it," you spat, biting into his neck again as your hold around his throat tightens. Spencer whimpers and nods, and you were sure that if he could speak, he would mumble an assortment of apologies.

"Tap me when you're ready to finish, so I can hear my name on your lips when you do. Until then, I'm going to use you just as I have been," you smirked, continuing to ride Spencer.

Over the next few minutes, the air's filled with moans from the two of you, and, if it was even possible, you had pushed him further inside of you. Spencer's hands roam everywhere in replace of his inability to speak, and he's as eager to get you to your high as you are to get him to his.

Eventually, Spencer taps your arm with urgency, and you can tell from the look in his eyes that he's close. You look up at him with a mirroring expression, and ask, "Close, sweetheart?"

Spencer nodded with a desperation you'd never seen from him before, and, in that exact second, you pull your panties from his mouth, and discard them on the desk behind you again.

"God, I'm going to cum, Y/N," are his first words. Your name sounds like honey falling from his lips, and you nod just as fervently as he had.

"Let it out, then, baby," you moan. "Come inside of me," you then rasp.

Spencer yanks you in and kisses you passionately, his hands tangled in your hair, and your hands tangled in his. One of his hands moves down to help you along, rubbing hard, fast circles on your clit. It's almost too much, and you're almost too sensitive: Almost. Your tongues dance with each other as you ride out your high, and Spencer fills you to the brim with his cum. You finally come undone, riding him as fast as possible in order to pleasure the both of you, and God, does it work.

When you've completely finished, you pull back for air, practically gasping for it as loud pants fall from your lips. "Jesus, Spencer. You were so good. Did you get off well, baby?" you ask him.

"Yes, ma'am," Spencer smiled as he softly rubbed your back, the desperation that was present a few minutes ago being replaced with a notable softness. "And thank you."

"Mmhm," you mutter as you press your lips to his again. You rest your forehead against his and smile. "You know that, uh, late pass you were talking about?

Spencer chuckled. He already knew what you were about to say. "Yeah?"

"I think I’m going to need it."

—

both requests and reblogs are appreciated :)

—

[lozchi]

KNOCKDOWN Chapter 1

Masterlist Pairing(s):Sukuna x F!Reader, Modern AU

Themes: Suggestive content, profanity, mild violence, slow burn, childhood friends to lovers, OOC, fluff, angst(ish)

Chapter 1: 3,567 words

Surrounded by textbooks, notes, and surgical procedure diagrams, you find yourself completely focused on your medical studies as you sit at your messy desk. The sole source of light in the room is the gentle radiance of your desk lamp, creating elongated shadows on the pages – focused on the intricate drawings, trying to remember every part of the procedure. The outside world gradually disappears, and time goes by without you realizing it, the bright daytime gradually transitions into the dark colors of evening outside your window, enveloping you in a quiet state of intense concentration.

A voice calls out your name, faint and far away, barely noticeable in your awareness. You allowed it to go by without losing your concentration. Shortly after, the voice rings once more, with increased volume and urgency, disrupting your concentrated state.  

The abrupt calling seems like a harsh disruption in the fragile strand of your focus, and you work to ignore the annoyance.You sigh in frustration and mumble quietly, "Ugh, what do you want, Shoko?"

Shoko’s voice rang out through your shared apartment once more, jolting you from your concentration as she yelled your name.

You looked up from the sea of medical papers strewn across your desk. “What’s up, Shoko?”

“'What's up?' You fucking tell me 'what's up'! you haven’t eaten yet. How long are you gonna be nose-deep in all those papers?” she asked, leaning against your doorframe with an exasperated look.

Six years into med school, you were suffering. The endless studying, the sleepless nights—it all weighed heavily on you. Shoko was in the same boat, but she always seemed to handle it better. Maybe because she indulged in stress-free activities or she was just naturally talented in managing herself, maybe both. Whatever it is, she hid her struggles well.

“Relax.” you said, trying to sound casual. “Just a few more pages and I’ll eat breakfast.”

Shoko’s eyebrows shot up. “It’s literally 6 in the evening. What do you mean ‘breakfast’!?”

She walked over, plopping down on the edge of your bed. “You need to take some time for yourself. I bet you don't even know what day it is.”

You rolled your eyes, though you knew she had a point. “I do get to relax sometimes.”

Shoko smirked. “When was the last time you had fun?”

“Yesterday!” you replied, a bit defensively. 

She raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? Doing what?”

You hesitated, then admitted, “I killed five mosquitoes in a row.”

Shoko blinked at you, then burst out laughing. “Seriously? That’s your idea of fun?”

You sighed, unable to help but smile at her incredulity. “It was surprisingly satisfying.”

Shoko shook her head, her laughter subsiding into a warm, affectionate smile. “You’re something else, you know that? But seriously, take a break. The world won’t end if you step away from the books for a little. You really need to loosen up a bit more. How about we cook some food and watch a movie?"

You glanced at the mountain of papers in front of you, feeling the weight of all the work yet to be done. But as you looked at Shoko’s earnest expression, you realized she was right. You did need a break, even if it was just for a little while. You nodded, knowing she was right. “Okay, okay. I’ll rest. Just for a bit.”

Shoko grinned, getting up to head to the kitchen. “Good. Now come on, let’s get some real food in you before you wither away.”

As you followed her out of the room, you couldn’t help but think about how much you relied on her to keep you grounded. Despite how hard med school was, having a friend like Shoko made it all a bit more bearable.

“Okay..." you conceded. “But I'm picking the movie.”

“Deal." Shoko said with a grin. You leaned back in your chair, letting out a long breath. Maybe this was exactly what you needed.

Shoko took out several vegetables from the fridge, humming to herself as she began to prepare dinner. She glanced over her shoulder at you, a playful smirk on her face, deciding to tease you once again. “Y’know, I bet you have no idea what a Ligma is.” she laughed.

"Shut up, I know what that is."

Shoko smirked, but she remained silent. Just then, her phone rang, and she answered it quickly. “Ah, sorry, I actually have something to attend to. Don’t forget to eat!” she called out, grabbing her bag and heading to the door.

“I’m eating instant ramen,” you muttered to yourself as you watched her leave. With a sigh, you decided to head to the nearby convenience store to pick up some good old cup ramen.

-

Once you arrived at the nearby 7/11, you crouched down in front of the aisle to grab a cup of ramen. Deciding to heat it up and eat it there instead of taking it home, you made your way to the hot water dispenser, preparing your quick meal.

With your hot cup of ramen in hand, you took a seat at one of the small tables. As you started eating, you noticed a tall, muscular guy trying to get your attention. He had black hair, a noticeable scar on his lip—his build was insane, making you momentarily consider hitting the gym.

“Excuse me, miss, can you watch over my son for a little? It’ll be quick.” he asked, his voice deep but polite.

“Oh, sure,” you said, looking at the cute little boy who's probably no older than 8 –standing next to him.

“Dad, I want candy." the boy demanded.

“Only a bit, Gumi. Otherwise momma would kill me.” the man chuckled before heading off, leaving you with the child.

The boy immediately took out a phone and began watching something. You couldn’t help but notice it wasn’t a typical kid’s show.

“Do you know the King of Curses?” he asked, looking up at you.

-

“I can’t think of a fucking username that isn’t corny!” Sukuna pouted, crossing his arms in frustration. You laughed, watching him struggle.

You’d been waiting for ten minutes for Sukuna to pick a name, but all he’d been doing was muttering swear words under his breath. 

“Geez, chill. Maybe you should go for something like ‘The King of Curses’ since you won’t stop being a potty mouth.” you suggested, a teasing glint in your eye.

Initially, he was disgusted by your suggestion, thinking it was surely a joke. But, moments later, you saw him typing the username you picked out, almost subconsciously.

“You seriously went with it?” you scoffed.

He shrugged. “It may be shit, but it’s pretty iconic if you ask me. Makes me sound feared or something.”

“You’re so cringe.”

“Shut up, at least we can start now.”

-

You laughed at the memory and turned to the kid. “It’s probably some weird CounterStrike username an edgy teen would come up with.” You said, a nostalgic smile on your face. Still, how in the world would that kid know about that specific username?

The boy's eyebrows knitted in confusion. “My dad trains him. He’s a really great mixed martial artist.”

He played a YouTube video for you, and you were amazed. The commentator excitedly pointed out the undefeated champion, known as "The King of Curses", as he dominated the ring with a fierce appearance on the screen.

The camera focused on the fighter's face, leaving no room for doubt. It was Sukuna. The same fierce protector from your childhood, now grown up and living up to the formidable name you had jokingly given him.

In the video, Sukuna was positioned in the middle of the octagon with tight muscles and concentrated eyes. When the bell sounded, his opponent rushed towards him with a barrage of punches. Sukuna smoothly avoided every attack, his actions appearing almost too fast to see. He responded with a quick punch to the ribs, then delivered a strong uppercut that made his opponent stagger backwards.

Sukuna's expression remained calm, almost bored, as he advanced. His opponent attempted to regain balance by launching a frantic kick, but Sukuna intercepted his leg in mid-air and turned it, causing the man to fall hard on the mat. The crowd burst into applause, but Sukuna was not finished. He dropped to the ground, pinning his opponent with a series of brutal elbows and punches.

The referee moved in to stop the fight, but Sukuna was already standing, raising his arms in victory. His chest heaved with controlled breaths, and he flashed a confident smirk at the camera, the tattoos on his body adding to his intimidating presence.

It cut to a post-match interview where Sukuna, still glistening with sweat, spoke with a quiet intensity. "My advice to achieve such greatness? Uhh, git gud.'"

Classic Sukuna.

Your heart pounded as the realization set in. Sukuna, the boy who used to defend you on the playground, had become a renowned MMA fighter, known worldwide by the very name you had suggested in jest. The world had changed so much since you last saw him, and yet here he was, still fighting.

The boy continued watching the video, oblivious to your internal turmoil. You couldn't help but feel a mix of pride and disbelief. Sukuna had come so far, and you wondered if he ever thought about the past, about you.

"'Ryo..."

The boy glanced at you and thought, "Damn, this woman's got a crush on him already, like every girl on TikTok."

The man returned, thanking you for watching his son. You nodded absently, still reeling from the revelation. As you left the 7/11 with your now cold ramen, your mind buzzed with possibilities. Would he still remember you? Would you be able to reconnect again?

-

The kid tugged his dad's arm. “Dad.”

“Yes, Megumi?” the man responded.

“Can't believe that lady didn’t know who you were, neither did she know Ryomen Sukuna!”

The man could tell; you didn’t seem astounded to see him at all.

“She looks oddly familiar though.” the man muttered to himself. "Gumi, let's visit him."

-

Returning hastily to your apartment, the image of Sukuna's video was still fresh in your mind, the flickering fluorescent lights of the 7/11 lingering behind you. Your heart beat fast with a mix of excitement and nervousness as you struggled with your keys to unlock the door, eventually managing to push it open and enter the dimly lit living room of your cozy apartment.

The view you saw was anything but reassuring. Shoko was in the kitchen, glaring at the untouched vegetables sitting forlornly on the counter

"Where were you?" she asked, concerned.

You gave a nervous chuckle, still processing the shock of the day. “I went to 7/11.”

Shoko sighed and shook her head, her expression softening just a little. “You need real food, not just instant ramen. Ugh, whatever.” She threw her hands up in resignation and turned toward her bedroom. “I’m heading to bed early. You should do the same.”

"You eaten yet though, Shoko?"

She sighs and nods, "Of course I did."

As she started to walk away, you hesitated for a moment before calling out, “Hey, Shoko?”

She stopped in her tracks, turning to look at you with a weary but curious expression. “What?”

“Do you know how I could catch up with an old friend I haven’t seen for a long time?” you asked, trying to sound casual but unable to hide the hope in your voice.

Shoko raised an eyebrow, her interest piqued. “How long are we talking about?”

“About six years.” you said, your fingers nervously fidgeting with the edge of your ramen cup.

Shoko considered this for a moment, her gaze thoughtful. “What are they like?”

You took a deep breath, your mind drifting back to memories of Sukuna. 

“Well, he was strong—”

You remember him at the young age of 10, standing in the center of the playground, his muscles tensed as he faced a group of older kids. “You think you’re tough enough to handle me?” he taunted, his voice brimming with cocky confidence. “Bring it on!”

You watched from a distance, your heart pounding as Sukuna stepped into the fray, his bravado as palpable as his physical strength.

“He was brave—”

You remember Sukuna during your preteen years standing in front of you, his eyes fierce as he glared down at the jerks who had been tormenting you. “You stay behind me." he said firmly, his voice carrying a promise of protection. “I’ll handle this.”

You clung to his shirt as he faced the bullies, the sight of him standing tall against the odds a comforting shield.

“And reckless—”

You remember him as a middle schooler throwing himself into a scuffle with a group of older kids, not caring about the bruises or scrapes he might get. “What are you doing?!” you shouted, desperate to stop him from getting hurt. “You’ll get hurt!”

Sukuna’s eyes glinted with reckless excitement as he punched the air, ignoring your pleas.

“But he was also gentle sometimes.” you continued, a nostalgic smile forming on your lips.

After a particularly rough fight, Sukuna sat beside you, his face uncharacteristically soft as he checked the scratches on your arms. “You okay?” he asked, his voice gentle and full of concern. “Don’t let those fuckers get to you.”

"Now, it's pretty tough. I just found out today that he's gotten famous. Do you know Ryomen Su-"

“RYOMEN SUKUNA?!?” Shoko interrupted suddenly, her eyes widening in disbelief.

You nodded, trying to keep your tone steady. “Yeah, Ryomen Sukuna.”

Shoko stared at you, her mouth slightly open in shock. “Nah, nah, there is NO way you could possibly be connected to THAT man.”

She shook her head vigorously, as if trying to clear away the absurdity of the idea. “You’re telling me you knew Sukuna, the MMA fighter? The King of Curses?”

You nodded again, trying to suppress the excitement bubbling inside you. “Yeah, that’s the one.”

Shoko’s eyes darted between you and the kitchen, her skepticism palpable. “How in the world did you end up knowing someone like him?!? And why didn’t you mention it before?”

“It’s a long story. But I saw him today in a video, and it brought back a lot of memories.”

Shoko stared at you, her mouth slightly open in shock. “GIRL, YOU DON’T EVEN USE INSTAGRAM! OR TWITTER. OR FACEBOOK OR WHATEVER. HOW IN THE HECK—” She threw her hands up in exasperation. “Make one, quick! I’m going to bed now.”

You looked at her, a bit taken aback by her sudden urgency. “Wait, what? You think I should—”

“Yes!” Shoko said, her tone brooking no argument. “If you want to reach him, you need to have social media. He’s famous! You have to at least try to find a way to contact him through those channels. I’m heading to bed. Figure it out and come to bed soon!”

Dismissing you with a wave of her hand, she walked towards her bedroom, leaving you standing by yourself.

You walked to the bathroom, feeling the cool tiles underfoot in contrast to the warmth in your mind. You opened the tap and allowed the water to flow, filling the small, echoing room with the sound of splashing and dripping. You gazed at your own reflection in the mirror, revealing only weariness. Seeing your eyes and disheveled hair was a clear indication of the significance this held for you.

Entering the bathtub, you switched on the hot water and adjusted the temperature until it was perfect. Steam started rising, surrounding you in a comforting mist while you relaxed in the cozy hug of the bath. You rested against the ceramic surface, allowing the water to surround you while shutting your eyes and attempting to relax your thoughts.

"What kind of username would stick out to Sukuna? 

It was more challenging than you had anticipated. The inside jokes, the shared moments, and the personal history you had with Sukuna were so specific that they felt like private treasures. What could possibly represent those moments in a way that would be instantly recognizable to him?

You thought back to the times you spent together—times filled with laughter, arguments, and deep conversations. There were so many small, meaningful memories wrapped up in personal jokes and secret codes that no one else would understand.

You recalled the times you both laughed about ridiculous ideas, the games you played, and the silly names you created. You tried to think of a name that would be both nostalgic and significant, something that would make Sukuna think of you and those days.

"How about something from high school?" you mused, but nothing seemed to fit. Everything you came up with felt either too cheesy or too vague. You wanted something that would spark recognition and memories, but the perfect idea remained just out of reach.

You let yourself relax in the tub for a few minutes, hoping that the warmth of the water and the calm of the moment would help you come up with a brilliant idea. The steam swirled around you, and you let your thoughts drift, trying to tap into the memories of those carefree days.

As the water continued to gently lap against you, you thought about how those inside jokes had shaped your relationship, but how they might not resonate in the same way now. ------

Sweat trickled down Sukuna’s forehead as he leaned forward, his eyes never leaving focus. "You think you can take me down, brat?” he growled, his voice low and menacing.

“You’re going down, old man!” 

The room had a faint light, coming from the flickering TV screen and the gentle glow of the gaming console. Tension filled the air, the type that mounts before a pivotal fight. The air was filled with the sound of quick button presses and deep focus, occasionally interrupted by grunts of exertion.

Sukuna sat amidst the storm of focus and intensity, his brows furrowed in concentration while tightly gripping the controller. Facing him was his nephew Yuuji, a young and bubbly kid, matching his focus as his hands swiftly pressed the buttons.

The screen displayed the high-octane action of Tekken, the characters on the screen exchanging powerful blows and executing complex combos. Sukuna’s character, a hulking fighter, faced off against Yuuji’s agile and swift opponent. The battle was fierce, strikes and counters met with a flurry of button presses and strategic maneuvers.

But Yuuji was ready. With a triumphant shout, he dodged the attack and delivered a final, decisive blow. Sukuna’s character crumpled to the ground, defeated.

"K.O!"

For a moment, the room was silent. Sukuna stared at the screen in disbelief, his mouth hanging open. Then, with a dramatic wail, he exclaimed, “Nooo, Yuuji! You can’t do this to me, you brat!”

Yuuji burst into laughter, his victory dance full of exaggerated moves. “I told you I’d win, Uncle Kuna!”

Sukuna, unable to keep up the act, broke into a grin. “You little rascal,” he said, reaching over and playfully grabbing Yuuji. He pulled his nephew close and started tickling him mercilessly. “Take that! And that!”

Yuuji squirmed and laughed, trying to escape Sukuna’s grasp. “Stop, Uncle! STOP! I can’t- CAn'T! CAN'T BREAtHE!

Sukuna finally relented, letting Yuuji go and ruffling his hair affectionately. “Alright, alright, you win this time. But don’t think I’m going easy on you next time.”

Yuuji beamed, still catching his breath. “You’re just saying that because you don’t want to lose again!”

Sukuna laughed, the sound echoing warmly through the room. “Maybe. But you’d better keep practicing, kiddo. I won’t be this easy to beat forever.”

The room’s playful atmosphere was abruptly interrupted by the sound of a knock at the door. Sukuna’s assistant, a composed and efficient individual, stepped in, their voice calm yet insistent.

“Sir Sukuna,” the assistant called, their tone carrying an air of urgency. The sudden formality of the address cut through the laughter of the pink-haired duo, drawing both sets of eyes toward the door. “Toji Fushiguro and Megumi Fushiguro are here.”

Sukuna’s expression shifted from playful to one of seriousness. He scoffed, pushing himself up from his seat. “Took them long enough.” he muttered under his breath. Turning to Yuuji, he ruffled the boy’s hair one last time. “You play with Megumi, ‘kay? Me and Toji are just gonna chat.”

Yuuji nodded eagerly, already looking forward to spending time with his friend. As Sukuna’s assistant led Yuuji toward the play area, Toji and his son, Megumi, were ushered in. Toji, a formidable man with a rugged demeanor, walked in with his usual air of confidence. His son, Megumi, followed closely, his eyes sharp and observant despite his young age.

Sukuna stood in the center of the room, his presence commanding and authoritative. He greeted them with a nod, his assistant closing the door behind them. "Took you some time to get here." "Had to drop something off to my wife." “Come in,” he said, his voice carrying a weight that left no room for casual conversation.

Toji’s expression was serious as he stepped forward, his eyes meeting Sukuna’s with a sense of purpose. “Three things, Sukuna. We need to talk.”

Sukuna’s eyes narrowed slightly, his curiosity piqued. “Alright.” he said, motioning for Toji to continue. “What’s on your mind?”

Taglist: (tell me if i forgot to add you)

@obitobrigade @simpmetra @catobsessedlady @mangiswig @thulhu @aiicpansion @gojoscumslut @attackonnat @wavyhat2540

Ask under this post or any of the chapters I'll release if you want to be added. I would be posting polls or asking readers about certain things sometimes that would possibly affect the story in a minor way so stay tuned. :)

[eatmeandbirthmeagain]

HEY GWORL GUESS WHO IT IS 💫. I'M BORED ASF DOING REVISION SO IMMA GIVE YOU A FIC PROMPT 😊😊

Okay so Baldwin doesn't realise this but he has severe separation anxiety from you, and one day you go away to visit a sick relative and he's so lonely all day and he's just mooching about the library and the stables etc etc. When you come back in the evening you realise just how much he missed you and you feel bad about leaving him and you both fall asleep curled up together 💗 (Also you don't HAVE to do this but when they're cuddling at the end of the day Baldwin's golden hair has to be out and you're running your fingers through it when you're reassuring him)

I KNOW YOU'RE SUPER BUSY SO PLZ IGNORE THIS IF YOU HAVE TO DW 🙏🙏

♡ Beautiful Boy - King Baldwin x Reader ♡

♡ Fluff ♡

A/N: Hello Maddy!! Thank you so much for the request girl this is so cute 😭. Havent heard from you for a while, I hope youre doing well 🩷! As always, this is based on the film Kingdom Of Heaven, not the real historical figures. Enjoy!

PS: F/n = Fathers name. I use that term in this oneshot 😅

TW: Leprosy, Separation Anxiety

It had been a few years since the marriage between the king of Jerusalem and the daughter of Lord f/n.

In the time the two had been married, there was rarely a day they spent apart. Every moment of each day was spent together, whether it be in conversation or comfortable silence.

Baldwin, who before his wedding was used to a life of solitude, welcomed the company with open arms. He loved having not just a wife, but a companion who he could share each and every one of his deepest thoughts with.

After so many years of being alone, he was finally whole. He adored being around y/n and she adored being around him. They were perfect for eachother.

But it was not until one day that the young king realized just how much the absence of his wife affected him. He knew that he missed her when she was gone, even if it was for only a few minutes. But he was not aware that her absence could possibly destress him until y/n’s father fell ill.

It was necessary that she went to see him, despite Baldwin not being able to attend by order of his physicians.

“I will be back before sundown” y/n told him with a smile as she mounted her horse.

“I promise you”

“Very well, just please be safe,” the young king replied.

Baldwin found himself fighting back tears as she rode off into the desert, leaving him to watch her disappear into the horizon. He thought about what to do while she was gone.

It was a slow day in the kingdom, not a whole lot to do. Usually on days like this, he and the queen would sit in their shared chambers, playing chess, reading together or just talking about anything.

But not today.

First, Baldwin headed for the library. He ascended the stairs, stopping a few times to catch his breath on account of the mask that restricted his breathing more than it already was.

Cursing under his breath, he finally made it to the library. Baldwin walked silently through the rows and rows of books, wishing that his wife was there to look with him.

Once or twice, he even caught himself calling out her name to come and see an interesting paper he found, only to be met with silence. With a heavy sigh, Baldwin began to descend the stairs once again after finding no cure to his loneliness amongst the books.

He went to the stables, the courtyard, even the kitchen before returning to his chambers after a few hours.

Taking a seat at his desk, the young king felt tears well in his eyes. He felt so alone without her. So anxious and strangely vulnerable. What was happening to him? A man should not rely so heavily on his wife for such things, but he did.

Baldwin pondered this for a while and just when he felt as if he would finally cry, the chamber doors opened and y/n entered the room with a smile.

“Hello darling, how was your day?” she asked cheerfully, putting her bag down.

Baldwin rushed to his wife, wrapping his arms around her neck and pulling her into a tight hug.

“Oh- you missed me did you?” she chuckled, startled by his sudden affection.

Baldwin did not reply, just hugged her tighter and squeezed his eyes shut. Y/n returned the hug, rubbing her husband's back gently. She reached up and pulled his veil off to reveal silky blonde curls before running her hand through them, scratching him behind the ear and over the scalp.

Baldwin groaned softly at the feeling of her hands working away the growing migraine in his head.

“It's getting late, why don't we get some rest hm?” y/n said softly, the young king only nodded in reply. 

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

Baldwin did not let go of his wife a single time as they were getting ready for bed. He was either holding her hand or resting his chin on her shoulder, so y/n never got more than a foot away before he was back by her side.

It was amongst this and his greeting that made y/n realize he had missed her much more than she believed he would. Baldwin had always been somewhat clingy but this hurt her heart. He was so deeply attached to her that it made her never wanted to leave his side again.

Once in bed, Baldwin was very quick to snuggle into his wife.

“You missed me today huh?” y/n said gently, running her fingers through his hair.

Baldwin nodded.

“I missed you too, my love. But I am back now, and I will always come back. No matter how long I'm gone”.

The young king looked up at his wife and smiled. She loved seeing his smile without the mask. He had the cutest little smile and his bright blue eyes always glowed when he looked at her.

Y/n kissed her husband's forehead, pushing a golden curl away from his eye. She cupped his mottled face in her hand. In return, Baldwin nuzzled his cheek into her palm, looking up at her with a dreamy smile.

“You're so beautiful Baldwin” she whispered. “My beautiful boy” 

“I love you y/n” the young king said, the dreamy smile never once leaving his face.

“I love you too Baldwin. And I always will”.

Y/n held her husband close to her that night as he dozed off to sleep in her arms. She waited until he was fast asleep before closing her eyes, just to ensure that he was alright.

Before long, both the young king and queen were sleeping peacefully, curled up together in each other's embrace.

Exactly where they wanted to be.

[da-mous]

My mother gave birth to me on a canoe that she would spend every day rowing upstream. I grew up in that canoe, watching her row day and night

My mother never slept, but I didn't realize that was unusual. I grew up only knowing her as this woman who rowed tirelessly to keep us moving. Because she loved me, presumably

When I turned 10, however, my mother fell asleep, and for the first time in my life the canoe was moving downstream. I hadn't known she could fall asleep, or that our canoe could fall downstream. I thought maybe she must not love me anymore, so I did what I had to

With my little 10-year-old arms, I grabbed the oars and I rowed, the same way I'd seen her do it. When sleep came for me I just told it no, and I kept rowing, the way my mother had done for me

I rowed sleeplessly for 10 years, until my mother awoke. She motioned for me to row us to the side of the river, and so I did

My mother gave me a look that maybe had love somewhere in it, and then she disappeared into the woods. I never saw her again

I continued to row, a new yet familiar loneliness surrounding me

Eventually, a woman came to the riverside. I pulled the boat over to meet her, and immediately she was looking at my face with adoration and curiosity. She could see the earnestness in my eyes, and she could see all 10 years of sleepless nights on my face. She climbed into my canoe and took the oars and started rowing

Over the next several months, we would take turns rowing our canoe. I would catch up on my sleep and then wake up to take the oars from her, and then she would do the same in turn

As time passed, I began to indulge more and more in my sleep. At first it felt unfair to my partner, but she assured me I had every right to catch up on sleep I spent 10 years missing. She would take over

As the months wore on, I would sleep more and more and take the oars less and less. I felt guilty about it still, but the guilt got smaller and smaller, until it almost wasn't there

I woke up one morning and she was gone. I wasn't sure how long I'd been out this time, or how far back the boat had floated, but she was gone. The last thing I could remember of her was her loving face looking tired, her voice telling me it was ok

I rowed alone again. It took some time to regain my strength after giving my arms a rest, but I was rowing alone again

It had been too easy, I thought, to dismiss the weight of these oars, to let a loved one bear them for me like it was some small gesture. With each stroke of the oars, I gained a newfound appreciation for their weight, and yet they became easier to move as I got stronger

The hole she left in my heart ached. If someone ever were to fill this hole again, I resolved that I would row our canoe just as much as they did

[sillyuin]

The ghost of you. (Part 1).

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

Genre: angst.

Pairing: Mingyu x reader.

Warnings: Break up.

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

You disappeared like a faint ghost.

Mingyu had started to forget you and that scared him.

Every day he woke up in the room where you used to share happy and sad moments. There was no longer the sound of your voice wishing him a good day, giving him a kiss before getting out of bed.

Your small office was empty, there were no longer any camera lenses on the shelf, memory cards on the desk, nor a bunch of candy wrappers in the trash, and the curtains were always closed.

He walked the same streets you used to walk together, hoping to see your back or catch the scent of the floral perfume he liked so much, but the days went by, and there wasn't a trace of you.

From time to time, Mingyu would sit on the couch with the phone in hand, his hesitant finger unable to press your name on the screen. He had already sent several messages, but none received a response, and none of his calls were answered.

One night he entered your office, opened the curtains and from there he saw the starry sky, the view was simply bright and majestic. "That's why you liked being here so much," he said to himself, taking a seat in the desk chair. "You had front row seats... And I never came to join you..."

Until now, he hadn't had the courage to check the desk drawers, and that night he decided to do it; you had taken almost everything except for a memory card at the bottom of the last drawer. With much curiosity and fear, he inserted it into his laptop to see what was inside.

As he went through the stored photos, Mingyu felt a mix of happiness and nostalgia that turned into a silent sob. The album was full of pictures of the two of you, from outings and parties, random sessions in gardens or inside the apartment. He found it hard to believe how distant those happy moments felt compared to the reality he was living now.

Setting the laptop aside, he lay down on the couch and rested his head where you used to sit. "I miss you," he closed his eyes, burying his face in one of the cushions. "Where have you gone?"

The sun was setting and the wind started to blow gently. You were heading home while thinking about what you were going to make for dinner, and without realizing it you took a different path. It wasn't a loss since it was a very pretty street with some interesting shops; however, there was a place you had paid little attention to until that day.

"There was an art exhibit, and I didn't know," you lamented to yourself. You were in the front door of a small gallery and outside it, there was a sign with information about the presentation. After reading everything, you glanced down at your wristwatch. "One hour remain… That’s enough for me."

There weren't many people left except for a few older gentlemen, and some students that probably were heading home from school. The place was spacious, with beautiful paintings exhibited on the walls. Some were well-crafted and others were quite simple, but all had their own charm. There were also a few sculptures, and you took the opportunity to photograph some that seemed quite creative to you.

You moved on to another room and there was a rather curious painting: three small canvases side by side, the background was white, and a red ribbon crossed them by the middle. You stood for a few seconds appreciating it in silence, then looked down at a plaque with some words.

"The Red Thread of Fate," you read softly, "...", but you couldn’t say the artist’s name.

"You know the legend, don't you?" said a voice from behind and as you slowly turned, he was staring there. After so much time avoiding him, Mingyu ended up finding you in the most unexpected way possible, or so you thought. "Hi, y/n," he pressed his lips together a bit and crossed his arms. "I hadn't seen you, have you been here long?"

"No, I just arrived," you turned to one side, trying to locate the exit. "But I was just leaving, so..."

"Wait!" His voice made you stop suddenly. "Sorry, do you have a few minutes?"

You didn't want to, you didn't feel like being there another second nor talking to him, but you took a step towards to face him, although your fidgety hands said otherwise. "What do you want?"

"I..." Mingyu sighed. "I just want to listen to you, that's all."

"Now you want to listen to me?"

"No, wait, I can explain..."

"Explain what?"

Your severe tone made him remain silent, as if he were afraid that by saying something, you would leave without turning around. The atmosphere was tense, very tense, and the fact that no one dared to peek into the room only made him even more nervous. Still, he made it to say something.

"Nothing I said that day was true," Mingyu confessed, his voice quite confidence. "I hurt you deeply, and I'm sorry for everything, you didn’t deserve that."

"You left me alone," you stammered. "You said horrible things and then left. Do you know how long I waited for you to come home?"

"I know it was a long time, I..."

"Until dawn," you interrupted, taking another step closer. "I ran away and took a bus at 3 am, because you never came."

"Honestly, I-I don't know what was going through..."

"Are you going to listen to me or not?"

Mingyu shrugged, tortured by all the words held at the tip of his tongue. He took a deep breath and nodded nervously.

"You left me alone," you repeated, your voice sounding fragile as if it might break at any moment. "I asked for your help many times, I told you I was very nervous about leaving my job, and when I decided to quit, you didn't support me."

"I was scared, okay? I was… Scared."

"I was the one who quit a stable job to pursue my dream of photography... But you were the one who was scared?" You looked away for a moment to calm yourself down, although that didn't help much. "I don't understand, what were you scared of!? Tell me!"

Mingyu was downcast, and after a few seconds of no responding, he murmured. "I thought you would go far away..."

" There are many jobs, but only one Kim Mingyu." As you said it, he raised his gaze to meet yours, thick tears were stuck at the corner of your eyes. "I wanted to live my dream by your side… And I still want to."

In the silence of the room, the only thing heard was Mingyu's faint voice apologizing repeatedly. Then you approached him and gently took his face in your hands, kissing his cheeks again and again despite the tears that ran down them.

You approached him and gently took his face in your hands, kissing his cheeks again and again. His tears were honest and very painful, almost as much as yours, but it didn't matter. All you wanted to do was hold him like you used to, before becoming a memory lost in the pictures.

[steddieasitgoes]

Eddie is a rockstar at the Grammys and Steve is a clueless seat filler who sits next to him.

Walking around campus, Robin stumbles across a flyer encouraging people to apply to be seat fillers for the award season set to begin in Los Angeles. Robin brings it home to Steve and the two jokingly apply. They think nothing of it until three weeks before the Grammy Awards when they are sent a long email full of rules and NDAs for them to sign. At this point Steve tries to back out but Robin won’t let him -- promising that it’ll be fun and if it’s not he can take her to a basketball game of his choosing and she won’t complain once. 

Fast-forward to the event and it’s not as glamorous as Robin was expecting. They’re not allowed to talk to any of the celebrities they sit next to and most of the time they’re standing out in the hall waiting for someone to leave their seat. 

It’s a whole lot of waiting until 1/3 of the way into the broadcast when the artists start getting antsy and begin to mingle at the lobby bar. Robin gets sent out on seat filler business first and get shuffled around a few times before she winds up in the back of the line of fillers in the hallway. When another seat is vacated, she pushes Steve to the front since he hasn’t seen any of the show yet -- too busy letting others go in front of him because they are all more excited than him. 

The coordinator escorts him to a row near the back of the celebrity section and instructs him to sit in the seat next to a gorgeous long-haired men with the most beautiful brown eyes Steve’s ever seen. The man in question smiles and nods his head in acknowledgment before turning back to the conversation he was having with his seat mate. 

Several minutes pass and Steve waits for the coordinator to come get him but no one does. During the next commercial break, the gorgeous man turns and starts chatting with him. Steve knows he’s not allowed to talk to the talent, but he doesn’t recognize the guy so he figures he must be another seat filler. The guy’s not dressed in a suit like the rest of the celebrities and he’s all the way in the back of the section so he figures he must not be someone important. They spend the next three commercial breaks mindlessly chatting about the acts and Steve learns this guy is really passionate about music. 

If he’s honest, he’s sort of smitten with this dude and he doesn’t even know his name. He tells himself at the next commercial break he’s going to ask what his name is and spends the next several minutes brainstorming how to casually bring it up. 

All of it is for not, though, because suddenly the Grammy Award for Best Metal Performance is being announced and there’s a camera next to Steve pointed directly on the beautiful man beside him. The nominees are read and the beautiful man smiles bashfully at the camera when “Chrissy Song” Lyrics by Eddie Munson, performed by Corroded Coffin is announced. And then he’s leaping to his feet when the song wins and Steve watches in stunned silence as the beautiful man (aka Eddie Munson) graciously pats him on the shoulder before scooting past him to accept his Grammy Award. 

Steve feels embarrassed and tries to run for the hills -- surely he should have known who this Eddie guy was and yet all of that disappears when Eddie makes some comment about this being the best night of his life -- not just because he won a fucking Grammy but also because his manager is MIA leaving him sitting next to the cutest seat filler of all time. 

(Robin shouts at Steve for three whole days when they get back to their apartment and they watch the recorded broadcast. The shouting stops on day four, but starts back up on day five when she receives an email from the coordinator asking for Steve’s contact information. 

Eddie calls him half an hour later.) 

[httpiastri]

JACKIE I AM UNWELL RN !!!

can we talk about how soft paul would be when he just wakes up?:(

imagine you wake up first and you go to the bathroom to wash your face and do all the things you need, a little distracted and lost in thought so you didn't realise when Paul got in ??!? his big arms around your waist:((( asking you why you're not in bed with him, his voice all sleepy and his curls all messy but so beautiful and he'd definitely start giving you lazy kisses on your neck and shoulder bc he wants all your attention and you're just there melting at every little thing he does 🫠

:(( paul :(((( you're out here doing god's work angie, loved this idea so much 😭

– paul is a heavy sleeper me thinks. i see him as someone who is pretty hard to wake up (he'll have to have several loud alarms in a row if he's sleeping alone just to make sure he actually does wake up lol), and who always dozes off again if there's a chance. he'll wake up, say just a few words but keep his eyes shut, and then fall asleep again, and you'll be wondering if he ever even woke up in the first place or if he just talked in his sleep 😭 thoughhh if he fell asleep next to you, and you're suddenly not there, then he'll subconsciously know that something is wrong and he'll wake up much quicker than usual

– oh and he's a cuddler in his sleep, 100%. if he's got you in his arms when you fall asleep, you won't be able to break free. if you go into bed after he's already fallen asleep, you'll still find yourself in his arms when you wake up. he loves to bury his face in your hair or in your skin. or if it's been a rough day/week or if he's just missed you a lot, you can expect to have him rest on top of you, head propped up on your chest as he holds one of your hands 🥺

– i think he might be a light snorer…. i just get that feeling? idk? not so much that it bothers you, but you just find it cute and coo over it :(

– overall, i think sleepy mornings with him would be so so cute. the softest, cutest and most pure version of him and he's all yours? you're so lucky 🫶

oh and i felt like writing just a little little blurb…… sorry not sorry 🤭

it's always hard to leave paul behind in bed, but not only because of his tight embrace around your body; it's almost painful to roll out of bed when the person you leave behind is him.

him and that sweet pout on his lips, the messy bed hair practically screaming at you to come brush your fingers through it, those rosy cheeks that you wish you could forever hold in your hands…

i'll be quick, you tell yourself, tiptoeing into the bathroom and quietly closing the door behind you. you hurry to brush your teeth, wash your face and do all of your other routines, but when you wipe the water off your face with a towel, you don't hear the door opening again. instead, the only sound that fills the room is your own squeal when you feel a pair of strong arms wrap around your waist.

"paul!" you whine, dropping the towel and giving his forearm a smack. "christ, you really scared me!"

he only hums as a response, and it just frustrates you even more – but then, all of your anger disappears when you take in the sight in the mirror.

his chin is propped up on your shoulder, eyes shut and body bending down to meet your height. the feeling of his warm breath and bare chest against your skin sends a shiver down your spine, and the way he leans his head against yours makes you pout subconsciously.

"come back to bed," he mumbles, words slurred as he nuzzles his nose into the crook of your neck.

"in just a minute," you lean forward slightly to grab a moisturizer out of your cabinet, the action triggering a groan to rumble from his chest. "i just have a few more things to do…"

he lets out a dismissive sound, shaking his head into your skin. "no, i want to go back now."

"you go back, then. i'll be right there." you twist off the lid off, taking some of the moisturizer onto your hands and massaging it into your skin. paul doesn't budge, though; he stays put, his hold around you tightening even further.

after a few seconds, his eyes slowly open and he lifts his head from you. the lack of contact immediately disappoints you, but just seconds later it's been replaced by his lips.

his kisses start behind your ear, slowly tracing down the side of you neck, not leaving even a single inch of skin unkissed. when he reaches your bare shoulder, his hands also begin to roam around your body and you can't help but squirm. "please, paul. that tickles," you say, doing your best to pretend like you don't love every second of it – but he can read you like the back of his hand. there's no way he'll stop now.

you leave your bottle without its lid on top of the sink, not caring anymore. he won.

"okay, oka–"

you don't even get to finish your word, because less than a second later, he's already pulled you back into bed and flopped down on top of you. "cuddle me, please?"

and how could you ever say no to him when he asks so nicely?

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Hey, I'm sorry I couldn't find anything about whether request were open or not, but if they are can you do the gushing over their animal form with Jade/Floyd, Ruggie and Malleus (since he has referenced several times that he can turn into a dragon)? If not pls just delete thank you

Jade Leech

“Ohhh My Gaaahsh! You’re a merman?! An eel merman?! Wooowww!”

“(Y/n) focus! Or you’ll lose Ramshackle forever!”

“But he’s a moray eel!”

Even after the fact he’s flattered that you were so stunned about this

If you don’t seek him out he’s seeking you out 

Like feather on a string to a cat he’ll mention something about being a moray eel or dropping a fact 

Watching excitedly as your face lights up and your face moves closer to his

You’re so adorable it's insane

Inviting you to meet up with him so you could look at his tail

Or letting you look inside his mouth at his rows of teeth

Of course it's all for a price but he doesn’t need to tell you that 

He’ll just happily repeat that whenever your friends ask why he thinks it's okay to disappear with you in the Coral Sea

“(Y/n) just wants to know more about me, what's the problem with that?”

He knows why they’d be worried but it's so satisfying to find you so excited to simply hold his tail

You’ll even let him squeeze you if it means you get to touch his scales

You’re just cute like that

He’s addicted  

It's his favorite game of watching you ignore all his red flags so you can gush over his animal traits 

“If you promise to spend that weekend camping with me, I’ll let you see a secret trait I have in common with real moray eels.”

Floyd Leech

That's adorable

Shrimpy likes morays!!

He’ll be curious as to why your so excited everytime he comes to play with Baby Seal or Crab or the Mackaral

And as long as he doesn’t squeeze too tight you love playing with him

“So I’ve been meaning to ask: what is it that you like so much?”

You aren’t afraid to tell him and his reaction further spurs you on

Immediately he’s carting you off so you can play with him in his mer form

You’re so excited because Morays are so mysterious

Where you’re from they’re pretty elusive so your more than excited when Floyd proudly presents his teeth

Your his favorite to play with, so don’t play with anyone else

Don’t look at Jade hang out with him

he prefers it when you don’t announce when you get handsy with him

He’s guarding your curiosity because its his you’re his

At first it's just your interest in marine life than its you simply asking how your friends are

“Oi oi I don’t like it when my Shrimpy goes explorin’. You’re not encouraging that right?! Otherwise I’ll have to squeeze all the air out of ya.”

Ruggie Bucci

For a while he just knows that whenever he enters the room your eyes are on him

He doesn’t have to talk to you but you notice him

He sees you look at his ears and tail 

And he figures you just want to touch them

That's cool if your willing to pay

But even if you do it doesn’t stop

Honestly he’s flattered he doesn’t have to do much to get your attention

It certainly helps when he’s busy taking care of Leona all day

So he’ll bite 

And he’s in shock when you admit how much you like hyenas

“Like you're already a team player and survival is like super important! Not to mention you are a male but your so cool and sure of yourself–”

“G-geez don’t dissect your seniors like that! It gives serious Rook vibes.”

“R-right, sorry.”

“Not exactly saying you should stop all of it though…”

He’s blushing but he’s making the most of your interest

Drinking in that smile on your face as he answers your questions

While he’s not exactly used to being the one that's glorified but he doesn’t mind it

In fact the moment he feels your attention wane he’s pulling out any and all stops to maintain your attention

“Ruggie, did you take something from my bag?”

“Shishishishi you know hyena’s are scavengers! Best you start paying more attention!”

Malleus Draconia

This doesn’t come up casually

For the beginning of your friendship you didn’t even know his actual name

So it's more likely than not you mention it off-handedly

Once characters in books or movies or just in general is recognizable he’s keeping track

This is still so new

He doesn’t want to lose you if he reveals this part of himself

But Malleus is a stickler for correctness

So if you speak about how dragons in fiction do things and he corrects you or makes a distinction and your doubtful or just downright now believing he’ll transform

Totally dwarfing you in sheer size

Realizing what he’s done he’s fully prepared for you to gasp and runoff Not that you’d get too far

Your beam and squealing and touching him so much more

Your so adorable with your questions

Your soft little fingers running over his scales and spending all night excitedly being around him

Transforming back he relishes in the intimacy this brings

In the future he may refrain from full-on dragon form but his tail is close enough

But it keeps you close to him both as a conversation topic and as a limb that can easily pull you to his side

“Sorry to put you under the lens like this Tsuno…”

“It is not a problem. I have found that your inquiries help answer my own curiosities about you.”

He can’t be beat, he won’t be beat because who else is going to go full dragon for your mere curiousity

No one can compare especially when it comes to animal-heritage

According to you the closest that you could ever get to a dragon would be a carnivorous lizard

So aren’t you lucky that this dragon fae is swooning at the suggestion of your touch

“I would like for you to feel my horns. Please, do not be shy, this is an action instigating intimacy. Intimacy that I welcome with you (Y/n), my child of man.”

[riaarivic]

HIS - KNJ x F!reader: 1 Into you

💗Pairings idol!NamjoonxReader

💗 Genres idol!AU, Smut, Angst, Romance, Enemies to lovers

💗 Rating 18+ minors DNI

💗 Summary  Four years have passed since the last time you saw Kim Namjoon. But now he was right in front of you, with the same stupid warm smile that made your good judgment (and underwear) disappear without a trace. You haven't seen him for four years. But now here you were working for BTS again. Having to see his insufferably attractive face every day of your life again.

But there's something Namjoon doesn't know. The little girl with almond eyes and dimples in her smile clinging to his ex-girlfriend's hip, not only looked too much like him. But she was… His.

💗  Warnings for the series: Unplanned pregnancy (I KNOW BUT HEAR ME OUT) Unprotected sex, foul language, angst, miscommunications, pinning, SO MUCH PINNING, Hurt/comfort. Will update as the series progress. 💗  Warnings for the chapter: reader has very conflictive emotions about the news of her pregnancy at the begining. This chapter will have some back and forth time skips

💗 A/N: ⚠️ dialogue in BOLD is intended to be in English if not, they are speaking in Korean. ⚠️

Love, Ria

💗 Chapter wordcount 3,4k

💗 Series Index 1 2

His 01: Into you

"And baby even on our worst nights. I'm into you" Into you - Paramore.

💗💗💗MARCH 2022💗💗💗

You have to admit, you've been glued to your computer screen for a solid twenty minutes, utterly motionless.

Hyung-Joon, once your boss and now your business partner, just forwarded an email confirming your company's involvement in BTS's upcoming Permission to Dance on Stage tour. The whole team was buzzing with excitement about the colossal job ahead.

It would be the biggest job in your company.

It really was the opportunity of a lifetime, the pay was enough to take Hana on a Disney cruise vacation.

For a whole year.

Three years in a row.

Heck, you could buy the damn boat.

That's how good it would be.

You should be basking in the joy of this achievement.

Yet, the smallest detail casts a shadow over the happiness—precisely, the leader of the band. The young, talented, millionaire, successful, infuriating asshole Kim Namjoon is your daughter's father.

For the tiniest detail, it must be emphasized that he had no intention of being a part of her life.

Fuck him.

He couldn't even summon the decency to meet your gaze when he sent his mother and manager to deliver an envelope full of money, effectively kicking you and your daughter out of Korea.

The memory of it turned your stomach.

💗💗💗JANUARY 2017💗💗💗

An alien.

That's how all the people saw you when you entered Big Hit as if you came from another planet entirely. An alien who spoke their language perfectly, who had not come as part of a tourist excursion, but to work.

They all regarded you as if you had a second head protruding from your back. The security, while registering your information for your access card; the staff, makeup artists, hair stylists—all whispered things as you walked by.

What the hell were you getting yourself into?

The chance of a lifetime, you reminded yourself. The pay might not be extravagant, but the perks of being part of a K-pop group's staff more than compensated for it.

You were going to travel all over the world, meet new people, eat delicious things and most of all… be as far away geographically as possible from where you came from.

This is the opportunity of a lifetime

After navigating several security checkpoints and maneuvering through what felt like a maze of boxes filled with the group's merchandise, materials, and clothing, you reached the office where they awaited you.

The global press department.

Though the term "department" sounded too grand for the small space—more like a converted broom closet with your boss's desk and yours side by side.

"Oh! Miss… um," you smiled as you saw him struggling with the pronunciation of your full name.

"Call me y/n. You must be Manager Hyung-Joon," the man let out a sigh of relief. Despite his imposing stature, dominating the tiny office, a friendly smile adorned his face.

"Miss y/n, you're just in time. They are about to finish a rehearsal, and we are going to start the first practice interviews for the US tour. Did you bring everything you need?" You nodded, and he motioned for you to follow him.

Probably, nothing you had read about this group could prepare you for what lay ahead. As Manager Hyung-Joon swung open the door, the first thing that struck you was the noise.

That room was pure Chaos.

What you'd expect if you left seven practically teenage men to their own devices. They chatted and laughed, appearing at first glance like a bunch of ordinary kids.

Not like the young men who would become the biggest musical act in history.

"Bangtan, can you please be quiet?" the manager shouted, capturing everyone's attention. "This is y/n; she will be your translator from now on." All seven pairs of eyes turned to you simultaneously, and once again, there it was.

That look that made you feel utterly out of place.

According to what you'd been told, it wasn't common for the company to hire young, let alone single, women to work with BTS. Yet, you excelled at your job, armed with a glowing recommendation letter from one of your college professors.

Fast and precise with translations, you also brought experience as a journalist before accepting this position.

And that you accepted the joke of a salary they offered.

The company deemed you useful enough to overlook the fact that you would be the only woman among these men most of the time.

But your integration into the staff didn't happen before their main manager warned them that any attempt at inappropriate behavior towards you would result in drastic consequences.

Not to mention the uncomfortably awkward conversation you had in the president's office, where terms like contraceptives, confidentiality agreements, and the ominous "If you have any kind of relationship with one of the members, we will sue you for everything you have" echoed.

Though you were sure the suitcase you brought to Korea wouldn't be much help to a music company at the time.

The message was clear:

Mess with one of them.

You're out.

It's not like you were interested in a workplace romance; true, they were all attractive, but you needed this job more than anything else in the world.

At that time, Bangtan was gearing up for their promotions in the United States, and they required someone to assist them in English communication.

So they wouldn't be overly dependent on him.

"Do you even speak Korean?" that was the very first words he spoke to you. He wore an expression somewhere between puzzled and annoyed for a moment before turning to speak to Hyung-Joon as if you weren't there. "Are you sure she's not a stalker?"

"I'm a communications major from Busan National University. I also speak Japanese, French, Spanish, and Portuguese. But my first language is English. I suppose that answers your question," you retorted, meeting his gaze challengingly, and he rolled his eyes as if your response bored him.

At the far end of the room, you heard an amused snort; you recognized him from the dossier—his name was Suga.

"Did that lady just shut up Namjoon-hyung?" the youngest among them stared at you as if you were a unicorn, a mythical creature, the weirdest thing he has ever seen, and the older one nudged him to stop staring.

"Nice to meet you all; my name is y/n. I will be your translator, and I hope you can take care of me." You bowed, and when you straightened, you smiled at everyone. He kept his stare locked at you, irritated and unimpressed by your initial response.

That was the beginning of it all.

💗💗💗DECEMBER 2018💗💗💗

Fool.

A complete fool is how you felt, your heart pounding in your chest as you found yourself on your bathroom floor holding a positive pregnancy test. Four years ago, your heart held a different kind of weight, the weight of a secret growing within you.

Two weeks after he had returned to Seoul.

Exactly two weeks after you had told him to get the fuck out of your life.

No. That's not true.

You know better now. He was already gone before you found the strength to let him go. You just hadn't realized it.

So, here you were sitting on your bathroom floor. The weight of your shared history hanging heavily between you. Looking at the abstract pattern on the tiles feeling like a complete idiot.

Feeling guilty for a child who will grow up without a father.

Because...

You thought you were strong enough to handle it. You believed you could navigate motherhood alone, but...

Should you tell him?

Would it be too selfish to unveil this reality now?

How could you shatter his world, now that his career soared to unprecedented heights?

And the company…

You knew The company would go to great lengths to erase you and this secret from existence if necessary..

Kim Namjoon the leader of BTS.

Korea's pride.

Fathering an unplanned child out of wedlock with a foreigner?

It could dismantle everything he had worked for.

And his group. It will destroy them and he will never forgive you for it.

Besides, did you even have the right to reenter his life?

After what you have said to him? After the wounds you carved upon each other?

You wanted to cry, but the tears remained trapped within your eyes.

Kim Namjoon, the man known as RM, the leader of BTS, was your adversary, your lover, the man who once held your heart, and the one who shattered it into irreparable pieces—

All within a year.

💗💗💗NOVEMBER 2019💗💗💗

This is a terrible idea

It took you too long to work up the courage to tell him that you had had a daughter. But you couldn't tell him by phone call or mail.

You mustered all the courage you had and took a plane from Los Angeles to Korea. You definitely did not imagine how extremely difficult 16 hours on a flight with a one year old baby would be.

You had to bribe Jungkook with buying him 10 cartons of banana milk to get his new number.

Calling him was much harder.

"Hello?" His voice, after a year, stirred emotions you believed buried deep within.

You had no idea what to say.

Hi Namjoon, remember me? I'm y/n, your ex-girlfriend, ex-enemy, ex-translator? Oh, by the way, we have a daughter. I'm in Korea. Sorry for not telling you earlier; I panicked, thinking the company might erase us if they found out. Congratulations on the new album.

Definitely not that.

"Hey, Joonie," you blurted, and somehow felt like worse alternative, "I'm in Korea, and I'd like to talk…"

"Yes," he interrupted, his voice as desperate as yours, "I'm sending a driver for you. Where are you staying?"

Two hours later, a black company van awaited you in front of your hotel. It transported you to a far more luxurious apartment complex than their previous dormitory.

They are doing so well.

That made you proud, they deserved every drop of success they had.

But he wasn't in the apartment.

Waiting for you in the living room was a face you'd only seen once—Namjoon's mother, Mrs. Kim Seolmi. Accompanied by bodyguards and a staff member, her gaze held the same mix of disappointment and anger as the first meeting. Her eyes shifted sourly when they landed on Hana, in your arms.

Hana was the vivid image of her father, every feature, dimples, almond eyes, pouty lips, and even her expressions. Seeing Namjoon in her.

It took Mrs. Kim mere seconds to deduce the baby in your arms was her granddaughter.

"He doesn't want to see you, neither you nor the bastard child you're carrying. Did you think you could pass off just anyone's daughter as my son's?" She pulled an envelope from her bag. You knew it contained money. "Take it and leave. A gold-digger like you, using men for money. How disgusting."

"Madam, I don't need your money. If Namjoon doesn't want to see me, he should tell me himself." You clutched your crying daughter, scared by the woman's shouts.

From a corridor emerged Sejin, BangTan's main manager. He always knew everything about them. And his presence here meant The company was already aware that Namjoon had a daughter.

Shit.

"I'm sorry, Miss y/n, but it's true. He asked us to give this to you," Sejin handed you a sealed letter with your name on it, "and this you must sign. It's the only way to prevent the company from taking legal action against you for involving yourself with a member."

"Ha! As if the half-breed was really my Namjoon's daughter."

Oh you were going to kill that woman.

Before you could unleash your thoughts, Sejin spoke again. "y/n, you know what it means to be in a relationship with an idol, let alone having a daughter out of wedlock. This could destroy him and Bangtan. I'm sure you don't want that." His voice carried pity.

"You don't want to go trough this, and we know you don't want to put your daughter through it." He took a breath and sat in front of you. "The company is willing to compensate you for your silence. It's your only option—"

"I don't want your fucking money, Sejin"

"Miss, if you go against the company, we'll have to fight in court, and you could lose custody of your daughter. I'm sorry, but it's true. He didn't want to come when he found out you were coming with your child."

He didn't want to come

When he found out

That you were coming with a child.

Your child.

That phrase echoed in your mind for years. You could still close your eyes and see Sejin's pitiful face—the same one he wore when informing an employee they could no longer work for them.

Because they spoke a second too long with one of them.

Because they smiled at them a little too much.

Because feelings started to emerge.

All were fired and forced to sign mountains of legal documents preventing them from ever speaking about what transpired.

Some were even offered positions at other agencies.

"You're fortunate Bang PDnim decided to compensate you. But it's your decision," he concluded.

Three hours later, you were repacking to return to Los Angeles, vowing never to set foot in Seoul again.

This should never have happened.

As you wiped away tears, your phone buzzed with several notifications.

Message from unknown number: Doll, it's Yoongi. Jungkook told me you were here and you were staying at a hotel in Myeongdon. Message from unknown number: I'm coming to see you.

Message from Cookie 🍪: Y/n Noona, Yoongi Hyung asked me to give him your number. Thanks for the banana milk, you should stop by the dorm and let's drink soju like old times!!!!

Message from NJ: I am so sorry. I hope you can understand.

The last message made you want to throw up.

The phone started vibrating with an incoming call…..

💗💗💗MARCH 2022💗💗💗

"Are you sure you're okay with this?"

Hyun-Joon regarded you with the same concerned eyes he had five years ago when you first met. He had transitioned from being your boss to your business partner and, eventually, one of your dearest friends. A few months after your departure from Korea, he called to share the news of starting their own management agency with a friend.

The startup funds came from the envelope Sejin handed you as compensation for never disclosing the identity of your daughter's father.

At least something good came from shattering your heart into a thousand pieces.

Today, you were the CEO of a flourishing company offering diverse services to music companies in Korea—translators, managers, staff, security; you had it all, and your agency ranked as the best in the market.

It was only a matter of time before you appeared on HYBE's radar.

It was only a matter of time before you found yourself back in the same room as him.

"Of course, this is the best contract the agency has had since we started. We are professionals, and your CEO is no exception," you reassured yourself more than Hyun-Joon.

He scrutinized you, trying to believe your conviction. "Well, let's get ready; they are about to come in."

The sight before you differed vastly from the first time you saw them in the modest conference room at what was then Big Hit. Through the glass door leading to your meeting room, the bodyguards entered first, followed by the new individual managers.

You knew much had changed since your last encounter. Initially, it was just you and a handful of staff members.

Now, it felt as if the President of the United States or Beyoncé were about to make an entrance.

Scratch that, the president's secret service probably had fewer people.

The room was nearly full, yet they hadn't arrived.

Jungkook walked in first. The last time you saw him, he still wore his school uniform. Now, he appeared as if he had stepped out of a novel, exuding a bad-boy aura with tattoos and all-black attire.

Behind him, Taehyung, the shy boy with the innocent smile, wore a designer suit, exuding timeless elegance like the protagonist of an old Hollywood film. You couldn't help but smile at the sight of him.

Jimin seemed unchanged yet transformed simultaneously—beautiful, elegant, with a hint of mischief in his eyes. When he saw you, he smiled discreetly, as if holding back many unspoken words.

Following him, J-Hope entered. His off-stage personality always intimidated you, yet he remained the kindest and most focused among them. That hadn't changed.

Yoongi walked in behind him, smiling genuinely upon seeing you. Among all of them, he was the only one you still maintained contact with. Nonetheless, seeing him in person brought a sense of relief.

Jin came in almost last, and you couldn't help but be amused. Despite not having seen him in person for four years, he hadn't aged a day. Serene as ever, he entered with a respectful bow.

A chill ran down your spine.

They entered in the official order.

From youngest to oldest.

And last.

Him.

Kim Namjoon, always entering last, responsible for introducing them all. Front and center, as always. His now-blond hair caught your attention first. Even beneath his clothes, you could see that he had grown. His arms filled his shirt just like his chest and legs.

Your mind instinctively wandered into territory you almost slapped yourself for entertaining.

You looked up, and he was looking at you. Whether he was surprised or not, his face revealed nothing. With almost a decade in the business, Kim Namjoon knew how to conceal his emotions.

Assuming he had any.

He obviously doesn't care to see you. And who were you to him?—just some woman he was fucking four years ago.

Just

The mother of his daughter.

Your ears buzzed, and you were so deeply lost in your thoughts that you didn't notice when he began talking.

"...it's a pleasure for us to work again with you and your agency," that damn voice, it could still stir emotions in you. "Miss Y/LN, it's also nice to see you again."

Oh, is he going to call you by your last name?

"It's Lee now," your voice sounded cooler than you thought it would, perfect.

"Congratulations, in that case," he stiffened his jaw, and you smiled at him. Simultaneously, several people in the room tensed up.

Ah yes, that was another detail Kim Namjoon obviously didn't know about you.

Eric Lee was your other business partner and your best friend. You had married three years ago so that he could obtain a visa and stay in the US with you.

Eric gave his last name to Hana and had practically raised her with you.

And also.

Eric was completely, totally, and utterly gay.

Your marriage was only on paper.

But that was a detail you weren't going to explain to Kim Namjoon.

By the way… where the hell was he?

Namjoon cleared his throat, snapping you out of your thoughts. "In that case, I think we can start—"

"Mommy!" a little voice interrupted, entering the room. With so many people there, you could only see the top of her dark brown hair. "Uncle said to play hide and seek; can I hide with you?"

Almond eyes.

Dimples in the smile.

The same pouty lips.

Kim Namjoon who was almost 10 years in the industry and knew perfectly well how to hide his emotions, but he looked at the little girl in front of him as if he had just seen an alien.

His face showed a thousand questions.

How old was that little girl?

Why did she have the same eyes as him?

Why had she called you mom?

Did you have a daughter?

The whole room tensed up.

Oh shit, I knew this was a bad idea.

But things happened so fast.

For the first time in her life, Kim Namjoon looked at his daughter's face.

And you were looking at the consecuence of what once was a stolen kiss behind a closed door.

And then evolved to so much more.

A snarky remark.

An irritated snort after others spoke.

A heated argument in a press room.

A few stolen kisses behind the staff room door.

A night in a hotel room.

And despite your reluctance to admit it,

Despite everything.

You would always be

His.

💗💗💗💗💗💗

I KNOOOOOWWWW! Another fic and I haven't finished translating/editing/rewriting/posting Hate!. But Yes, I had to, I had a writers block and decided to pull this one out of the vault of prompts.

Pregnancy troupe? while I'm writing a dark mafia romance? I KNOW But hear me out with this one, it is A RIDE.

I REALLY wanted to write a short agnsty BUT filled with heart clenching romance and.. other things clenching smuttines.

Yes, I'll continue updating Hate! but i would love you a bit if you give this baby a chance... literal baby. AND KIM NAMJOON AS A GIRL DAD!!?? IM NOT GOING TO DEPRIVE MYSELF OF THAT

Ps. If you want to be on the tag list drop a comment below!! 👩🏼‍💻✨

As always love you guys,

Ria 💗

[l0v3tast3]

here to help — spike spiegel

spike can't help but say yes when you ask him to help you with something so nicely.

✎ tags: mdni!, smut, female reader, cat girl!reader, dub-con if you squint, smoking, spike's eye wasn't the only thing experimented on (wink), pet names, spike is kind of a perv but in a hot way, very brief mentions of blood, dacryphilia, bit of a size kink, he's nice in a mean way, unsafe sex, fluff at the end

✎ word count: 3.8k (proofread this time wowie!)

✎ author's note: i know i haven't posted anything in a month oops sorry ヾ(´ ▽ ` ) ... anyways i'm back and still working on call of duty stuff for those who follow me for that! but i'm also gonna start writing for jujutsu kaisen and cowboy bebop now yippee!

masterlist

spike really, really hated sharing a wall with you right now.

being the latest addition to the bebop, the room next to spike's had been the only empty one left, and you were just so sweet. he had just grumbled a "fine" and went on with his day, thinking that you were agreeable enough to live next to.

you were quiet, certainly more-so than faye; he had reasoned with himself that that was why he said yes. not that your pointed cat ears atop your head and fluffy tail that flicked side to side and curled when you were happy was the cutest thing he'd ever seen.

you had sheepishly explained them when it was just you and him in the living room. he had asked what the deal was with "all that", and you had twiddled your thumbs in your lap and told him about the medical tests gone very wrong. he had started scolding faye and jet whenever they made jokes after that, and kept ed away from poking at you.

now, though, you were anything but quiet.

spike could hear every moan and gasped breath you uttered through the thin wall, his bed of course pressed up against it. he could hear the sounds of you desperately fingering yourself, wet noises between your voiced frustrations. you must have been soaked.

he wasn't stupid; he had figured it out pretty quick. after the first night, when faye had knocked on your door to drag you out and you said you were sick, he knew you were lying. after the second night he realized you were in heat.

this was now the third night in a row, and he was exhausted. it was hard to get any sleep with you practically crying out in his ear, making him painfully hard throughout the whole night. at least he knew now why you would disappear for a week every month you'd been here. this time, though, the bebop just had to be out of fuel, unable to get to the nearest planet with a hotel.

spike was fed up.

he was just going to go over to your door and tell you to be quiet. right? well, he didn't want to embarrass you. but you had to know he could hear you. you had to know he could hear everything, even the whines of his name that you were poorly attempting to keep quiet.

your door stood in front of him and spike was unsure of what to do, more than he had been in a long while. should he knock? just yell and hope you hear?

he was about to just turn away when the door slid open; he hadn't even realized you'd gone quiet. he just stared in shock, mouth hanging open as he processed the fact that the only thing you were wearing was one of his shirts.

"spike," you sighed, as if just seeing him gave you some kind of relief. your eyes were glazed and wet like you were on the verge of crying.

it took him several moments to recover. "you're... being loud," he finally managed to say.

"'m sorry," you muttered, looking down. "can't help it, it just hurts."

"you need some help?"

spike was just as surprised as you seemed to be by the words that had just come out, but your breathy voice, wet thighs, and having been already thinking about this for awhile won him over.

"are- are you serious?"

"wouldn't say it if i didn't mean it." he was walking forward into your doorframe, tall enough that he almost had to slouch. it made him very aware of just how small you were compared to him. "do you want my help?"

you nodded, backing up as he slid the door shut behind him and moved closer to you. when you were at the edge of your bed and couldn't back up anymore, he came close enough to cup your face with his hands and bend down until your lips were a hair's breadth apart.

"you gotta say it, sweetheart."

your hands were on his bare chest, nails almost digging in. "yes, please, need your help, spike-"

he pushed his lips into yours and you let out the sweetest moan he'd ever heard. his hands were running through your hair, down your back and to your waist and under your (his) shirt, swallowing your noises the entire time.

breaking your kiss to pull off your shirt, he marveled at the sight of you. he was laying you down on your bed and biting and licking down your body before he knew it, until he kneeled between your legs, pushing them up to get a better view.

your hands were already in his unruly hair to try and tug him to where you needed him to be, but he didn't budge. instead he brought his hand down from under your knee, each grazing touch closer to your core making you twitch.

"shit, you're so sensitive, baby," he muttered. his fingers had barely touched your clit and you were already crying out.

"please, spike, please just do something," you whimpered when his hand went back to your thigh.

"what do you want me to do, hm?"

"something, anything, please spike!" he almost felt bad when tears started welling up in your eyes again. almost.

"anything?" he echoed with a giddy smile.

he slid two fingers inside you easily. you were practically dripping wet, a damp spot already forming underneath you. he cursed again as he felt how tight you were, watching your back arch almost immediately.

"ha-a, ah! spike!"

your voice was music to his ears, a song he wanted to play on loop forever. he'd been imagining it, your whimpers and pleas, for months now. it was about time the universe paid him back.

it took less than a minute for you to cum, your body going stiff and your voice choking. spike almost came himself when he felt your pussy contracting around his fingers.

he gave you barely any time to recover before he was licking up your juices, sucking on your clit and pushing his tongue into you. you just about screamed, but you didn't push him away, only pulled him closer, one hand leaving his hair to claw at any skin you could reach.

you were already reduced to a babbling mess and he couldn't stop muttering about just how sweet and addicting you were.

"fuuuck, sweetheart," he dragged out, finally detaching himself from your clit after you'd came twice more. "can't get enough of you."

spike stood up and you whined, sitting up and trying to get his sweatpants off before he even had a chance to himself.

he choked out a moan when you started licking and sucking at his cock as soon as his pants were down, looking like you were entering the same trance he had just been in. it took every ounce of willpower he had to drag you off of him and lift you back onto the bed.

"you can do that later, angel. i'm here to help you, right?"

you seemed to forget about going down on him pretty quickly, opting instead for trying to drag the man closer as he crawled over you. he gave in to you rather easily, meeting his lips with yours again.

admittedly, he had been giving into you a lot lately. he would give you the last snack left and let you lean against him on the couch when you were tired. he would let you come with him when he split off from the group when you touched down in a new place.

and of course, everyone noticed. they saw how soft he was with you, how his stature relaxed and he slouched just a bit closer to your level when you walked into the room. and of course, they teased him relentlessly about it.

jet had even asked him once if spike thought you went into heats.

"well, she disappears for a week every month. what if that's when- ya know-"

"faye disappears all the time. so do i. besides, it's none of our business."

spike would never admit that he got off to the thought of it. and now, here he was, basically living his dreams. he couldn't wipe the grin off his face.

you whined when he started rubbing his dick over your pussy, his head bumping your clit with each grind. he found your attempts to line your hips up so he would finally fuck into you adorable; there wasn't much you could do though when he had his arms hooked under your knees and hands grabbing at your waist.

"aww, sweetheart, what's wrong?" he patronized, breaking away from kissing you. you were still grabbing at him wherever you could. "what is it? you want me to fuck you?"

"mhm, need you to, please spike- ah!"

he wasted no time pushing into you as soon as he heard your sweet voice, cursing as he slowly pressed in further and further, barely dragging his hips back before he would slide in more.

"oh, fuck, baby- so fuckin' tight, can barely fit my dick inside you- shit!"

you cried out when he finally bottomed out; it was like he was reshaping you to fit him inside. it had been so long since you had been with someone, since someone had helped you with your heat, but even then it had never felt as good as it did now.

he was about to ask if you were alright when you started begging him to move, to fuck you, to please help you. his final shred of resolve snapped before he grabbed one of your wrists as leverage to start hammering into you.

your back arched again and spike took that as an opportunity to lean down and suck on one of your nipples. he wasn't surprised when you came again already, your cunt tightening until he felt like he could barely move. your eyes rolled back and your nails dug as deep as they could into spike's back, probably drawing blood. he didn't care, though, because you looked so pretty cumming on his cock.

spike kept making you cum as much as he could until he couldn't fight off his own orgasm anymore (he was honestly impressed with himself that he'd managed to even last this long).

"where do you want me, baby? huh? where d'you want my cum?" he breathed, watching your body squirm and twitch from overstimulation.

you couldn't even answer him, feeling like he fucked your brain right out of your head. all you could think of was the pleasure overtaking your entire being, of wanting to stay like this for as long as possible.

when you didn't say anything, spike leaned down over you and left your leg on his shoulder to lightly grab your jaw.

"c'mon, angel, you gotta answer me," he panted. "you want me to cum inside you, right?"

that seemed to bring you out your haze a little bit and you nodded, ears teary and face painted a cute shade of pink. "mhm- ah- cum in- side, ah! please!" you managed.

he came with a harsh groan, bullying his dick as far into you as he could as he filled you up. you came with him one more time, your body clinging onto his, trying to keep him from pulling out.

you both stayed like that for some time, kissing slow and stealing the other's body heat. you whimpered when he pulled away and started to untangle your limbs from his, but he shushed you with another smile.

"don't worry, sweetheart. we're far from being done."

spike found out just how sensitive your extra appendages are pretty quickly, and he absolutely took advantage of it.

scratching and petting your soft ears made you melt against him, like putty in his hands. he found you're much more pliant when he does it, less whiny and more grateful.

of course, spike wasn't a complete dick, so he would take you into his room to feed both of his addictions at once. like when he was fucking you but stopped every time you were about to cum, torturing you just to see what you'd do. he had your hands tied to his headboard, keeping one hand on your stomach to pin you down and using the other to smoke a cigarette while he lazily fucked you.

"nngh, nonono- please! spike, you're bein' mean-"

he bends down over you to put out his cigarette on the bedside table, making him press deeper into you; you nearly came just from that, choking on your words.

"i'm being mean? sweetheart, i'm helping you." he cupped your face and debated internally for a second before he reached up to pet and rub your little cat ears soothingly.

your tensed limbs went slack, no longer tugging on your binds or trying to pull him closer with your legs. your wide eyes became lidded and you started nuzzling your head further into his hand.

"you asked for my help, remember? this is how i help you, baby," he cooed, and when you gave a little nod and a whimpered "mhm" he smiled. "you just gotta be a good girl and take it. can you do that?"

you nodded again. "mhm, i'll be good," you mumbled.

"good," spike said, reaching for another cigarette and leaning back up to light it. he put a hand back on your stomach and when he wasn't holding his cigarette he was petting your ears as he went back to slowly dragging his hips back and forth.

he also found out that tugging on your tail made you cum nearly instantly, and he used that until you were crying.

you were on your hands and knees on the floor with spike fucking you from behind, having to hold your hips to keep them up; he was holding your hair in a messy ponytail to make you watch it all in the floor-length mirror that was in front of you.

the curl of your tail against your back was just so cute, and having seen the effect of touching your ears, he had no hesitation in grabbing your tail lightly. your body shuddered and twitched and your back arched when you let out a loud whine.

"shit," he groaned through clenched teeth, feeling your pussy tightening around him. "you really like that, don't you angel?"

"fu-uck, mm-mm, i don'-"

he grabbed the base of your tail and tugged, and you were clawing at the blankets underneath you as you came.

"ha, why are you lying to me, baby?" spike breathed, tossing his head back as he fucked you through your orgasm. "thought you were finally being good."

he flipped you over with a pillow under your back and tried it again while he ate you out, and he was delighted to feel your cunt pulsing around his tongue. he tried it when he was just rubbing your clit, when he only had two fingers inside of you, when he was just sucking on your tits. you came every time, and each time made you try to claw your way away from him a little more. he never let you run; even if he did, he knew you would just come right back.

"one more time, baby, just one more for me," he kept saying, until you were reaching back to grab his wrist, his arm, his chest, anything to get him to let up.

"please, ple- ah, spike!" you hiccupped. which one of you was the one in heat again? "break, i need- nnh- need a break!"

he slowed down his thrusts and took his hand away from your tail, your sob turning into one of relief.

"alright, baby, we can take a break, you just gotta give me one more," he said, leaning down over you to kiss the back of your neck. you tried to shake your head, tried to say you couldn't give him anymore; it was then that you realized you definitely wouldn't be able to keep up with him if you continued this after your heat was over.

"i know you can, doin' so good for me," he just mumbled as he fucked you slower, until he finally let himself cum, of course making sure to give your tail one last squeeze. he couldn't help himself when it forced the cutest moans out of you.

he filled you with his cum over and over again, the both of you passing out for a couple of hours just to wake up and fuck all over again.

he would wake up to you sucking his dick, you would wake up to him spooning you and giving you hickies in the spaces between the ones he'd already left while he fingered you open again.

the only other time you stopped fucking is when he forced you to take a break and shower. you clung to him like a koala bear the entire way to the bathroom, fucked again in the shower, and clung to him all the way back.

during the duration of your heat, spike found himself being a lot more caring than he had been to someone in a very long time. he made sure you drank plenty of water, took you to the bathroom, made sure you ate still, dealt with your whining every second he wasn't physically touching you. in truth, he liked how much it made him feel needed.

he only ran into jet once while he quickly raided the fridge and filled up water bottles. jet came in just as he was hugging the supplies to his shirtless chest.

"spike! where the hell have you been?"

"uh... well, turns out she does go into heat," he said with a shrug and a slightly smug grin, walking past jet.

"oh, shit... wait, how do you know-" his jaw dropped when he saw spike's chest, back and arms, scratched to hell and marked with bites from your little fangs. he told faye, edward, and ein that you two were both very sick and needed to be "quarantined", counting himself lucky their bedrooms were all on the opposite side of the ship from yours.

you both stayed in your routine of fucking, sleeping, eating, and being forced to bathe for four days before your system starts calming down (spike had found himself considering the experiments done on himself more good than bad; he was so grateful he could keep up with you).

it's when you wake up with a pained groan as he's stretching out his overused muscles that he knows you're finally sobering up. as much as he loved the sex marathon, he was starting to get sore all over.

he plops back down next to you and you roll over to lay on top of him, but for the first time in days you don't start nipping at his chest and grinding against him. you just let out a little whine and go back to sleep. he can't help the little smile that spreads across his lips, and he reaches up to gently pet your ears and hair until he falls back asleep too.

you're shook awake a few hours later, blearily cracking open your eyes to see spike setting down a tray of "beef" and vegetables next to you on the bed. he gently moves your legs to sit beside you and eat his own.

"morning, sweetheart," he says when you raise your head and mumble something along the same lines back, slowly shifting onto your back and sitting up with another groan.

spike frowns a little in worry, wondering now if he had been too rough on you. it doesn't match up to your face of horror, though, when you look up and see his shirtless body.

"oh god, spike, 'm so sorry! you didn't have to- oh god," you ramble in panic, reaching out to him then retracting your hands and hiding your face in them, curling up into a ball.

spike laughs a little bit before he reaches over and gently takes your wrists in his hands to show your face to him again. "it's alright! hey, really, it's alright. i love the kind of woman who stakes her claim," he reassured with a cheesy smile.

your face goes red and you look down, embarrassed. "you didn't have to help me. i'm sorry- 'm sorry i made you do... all that."

"i seem to recall making you do a lot of things, too. very happily, too."

"well, yeah, but-"

"trust me, i enjoyed every minute of it, princess. well, except maybe having to force you into the shower. and having to spoon-feed you."

"you did not have to spoon-feed me!" you mutter indignantly, brows furrowing adorably and your tail flicking behind you.

"yes, i did," he sys, pointing his fork at you as he went back to his tray, "when you just needed to keep my dick inside you but didn't want to stop fucking yourself on it long enough to eat. had to hold you down." he acts like he's complaining, but he has a shit-eating grin on his face the entire time.

you choke on your own spit a little before huffing; before you can turn to your own food he adds on, "eat, don't make me force feed you again." you half-pout and half-glare at him, but you shovel the food into your mouth nonetheless.

once you're beyond full, you collapse back onto the bed, fully intending to go back to sleep and let your hormones rebalance on their own. you were always sore and exhausted for a day or two after your heat, but you usually slept through it anyways.

"hey." apparently, spike has other plans. "come on, we gotta take a bath." he's hauling you back into a sitting position and pulling his t-shirt over your head, which of course swallows you whole, despite all your whines and protests. "quit complaining, all you gotta do is sit in the water."

regardless of his front of acting like he was doing you a favor, he lets you cling to him again all the way to the bathroom. he washes your hair and cleans you off, makes sure the water isn't too hot for you. generally, you hate baths, but this seemed like something you could live with.

when he's toweled you dry and put you in one of his clean shirts, you sit on the counter while he finishes pulling up his sweats.

he picks you up again and as he starts walking you both back to your room, he asks, "so when did you take my shirt, anyway?"

spike feels you tense up and your cheeks get warm where they're pressed into the crook of his neck.

"i didn't take it," you squeak, "it got- it got mixed up in the laundry..."

"riiight. sure, sweetheart."

[linkemon]

Start in your head (Yuri Plisetsky x Reader)

Friendly reminder that English is not my first language. You can check my Masterlists both in English and Polish here. Consider supporting me on Ko-fi. You can also check out my commissions if you’re interested.

Other oneshots can be found here.

"ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ɪɴ ʙᴀʟʟᴇᴛ ꜱᴛᴀʀᴛꜱ ɪɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʜᴇᴀᴅ." ᴍᴀᴋꜱɪᴍ ᴡᴏɪᴛɪᴜʟ

ᴀᴅᴅɪᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟ ɪɴꜰᴏʀᴍᴀᴛɪᴏɴ: 1. ᴘɪʀᴏᴢʜᴋɪ ɪꜱ ᴀ ʀᴜꜱꜱɪᴀɴ ᴅᴇʟɪᴄᴀᴄʏ ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴᴇᴅ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀɴɪᴍᴇ 2. ꜰᴏᴜᴇᴛᴛᴇ́ ɪꜱ ᴀɴ ɪɴᴛʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴛᴏʀʏ ꜱᴛᴇᴘ ᴛᴏ ᴘᴇʀꜰᴏʀᴍ ᴀ ᴘɪʀᴏᴜᴇᴛᴛᴇ

[Reader] looked around the rink. She had been coming here for a week in a row and these visits promised to be a new, quite interesting tradition. Partly because she enjoyed teasing Yuri on most occasions and it was an interesting new form of an old game. Whenever the boy saw that she came to stare, he immediately gave her the best kind of taunts. The day before yesterday, he even deliberately extended the training to see if the girl would leave. However, he failed to achieve the intended effect and she returned with him chattering all the way.

— What are you doing here again, you idiot?

— Nice to see you too, Plisetsky. — She grinned so widely that Yuri swore her jaw was about to stretch.

It was hard for him to admit it to himself but deep in his heart he was surprised at her behaviour. Most people hated him from the beginning (or didn't want to be friends with him after some time). He weeded out a lot of those individuals who fit into the two categories because he didn't want to associate with them. Apart from his fans and family, with whom he already had problems, he was left with only a small group of people who wanted to see him and whom he allowed to do so. And she was slowly starting to belong to that group.

— I told you not to come. — He started unlacing his skates.

— Nothing new. — She leaned against the board. — Today we're going to town.

— For what reason? — he huffed.

— They opened a Russian food stand near the park and are selling pirozhki.

This was his weak spot. [Reader] knew well how much Yuri appreciated his grandfather's delicacies.

The boy was aware that the taste probably wouldn't be as good as what he usually ate but the thought of a warm buns after training almost made his mouth water.

— Okay, let's go. — They better be edible, though — he muttered.

The walk to the park consisted mainly of [Reader's] monologue but it was nothing new. Since the ballerina arrived with Lilia Baranovskaya, he managed to say goodbye to silence for long moments.

—... and then I do a pirouette, and she says... — she stopped abruptly. — Wait a second!

The skater was about to comment on how he wouldn't freeze like a fool on the street in sub-zero temperatures when he saw where the girl had turned.

— Who is sweet and charming? Who is? You are!

[Reader] was just lifting an adorable, furry, ginger ball into the air. The kitten snuggled into her shoulder, clearly craving warmth.

At the same time, his second, less trusting companion appeared around the corner and, after sniffing the girl's shoes, he gave up her company in favour of Plistesky.

He looked a bit like Potya, so he started stroking his fluffy head without hesitation. He already missed his pet.

— I don't think they're strays — [Reader] said, examining the collar that should have a contact address on it.

Before she could add anything, a young couple with a child turned from the main street into an alley.

A little girl who was missing several baby teeth stopped shedding tears as soon as she found the kittens. As if on cue, both of them obediently jumped from the teenagers' arms and wandered over to her.

She mumbled a thank you, which her parents told her to repeat, and then disappeared.

— It's a pity. — [Reader] glanced at her now empty hands.

— It's not a pity. They found the owners.

— I know but still... — An unfinished thought hung in the air.

Without any further obstacles, they finally managed to reach the booth. The girl had to admit that it looked quite pretty in the pastel colors of the Russian flag, lit by a row of light bulbs.

While standing in line, she managed to argue with Yuri three times. The customers closest to them looked at them strangely and parents covered their children's ears. And when they reached the ordering stage, she was afraid that the seller simply wouldn't serve the two of them because his murderous look indicated exactly that. However, nothing like that happened and she received her pirozhki.

The girl sniffed it, and then reluctantly bit into her portion.

— Wow, it's sooo good! — She looked at the filling, trying to guess the composition of the it in the dim light of the lamps.

— Tch — he snorted. — My grandfather makes better ones — he said but he ate the rest of his portion.

After this trip, it turned out that it was the first but not the last.

[Reader] liked Russian food so much that she dragged the boy to the booth every day, ordering new delicacies.

The system added a new item to the menu every day and worked quite efficiently. When they were halfway through the list, one fateful afternoon occurred.

It was starting to get dark. The boy's training was almost over and the girl still hadn't shown up at the ice rink. Baranovskaya stood by the board, which never happened at this time. As usual, she was accompanied by a careful look and a frown.

Yuri drove towards her in a fluid movement.

— Was [Reader] here?

The question, short and to the point, required the same type of answer.

— NO.

— If she does show up, tell her to come to me. It's true that she took second place and she can do better but for God's sake! Instant break down? We have to fill out these papers and she disappears right after the competition. — She waved the stack of papers angrily and walked away.

The skater had no desire to return to training. He left the rink, wondering if [Reader] had told him anything about the ballet competition. However, he came to the conclusion that despite letting some information out through the other ear, he would still remember something so important.

It was hard for him to admit it to himself but the ballet mistress's words and tone worried him.

He searched the Internet for recent news. The photo in a recently published article showed the lucky winner of the gold medal. However, it was not [Reader]. He managed to find an amateur video showing the performance of the girl and her competitors.

He called her once but only silence answered on the phone.

With quiet hope in his heart, he decided to go to the park. It was a bull's-eye. It's true that the girl, although she didn't choose their usual bench, didn't really hide. Her cheeks and nose were pink from the frost, and delicate snowflakes settled on her hair. Moreover, she was bathed in the dull light of the park lamps. She would have looked beautiful if the image hadn't been spoiled by her red eyes from crying. [Reader] held the unfinished pirozhki in her hand, her eyes fixed on the dead center. She only broke out of her trance when she saw familiar shoes and their owner a few meters in front of her.

— What are you doing here, idiot? Baranovskaya is looking for you — he huffed.

— Then call her and tell her I'm here — she replied in a flat voice.

Yuri was speechless. The girl had never seemed so emotionless to him.

— I won't handle things for you, call her yourself — he provoked again.

— I'm not going anywhere. — She shrugged. — Nothing will happen if I don't sign these papers. I want to quit.

— What exactly? — He frowned.

— Ballet. — She bit into her food. — I've spent a lot of time here today thinking about it, and I think it's a pretty good idea. No more training and competitions. I will finally be able to return to normal school. Plus, seeing family every day sounds good too. I won't have to spend half my life abroad. By the way, you're a damn hypocrite. You kept saying that I was dragging you here by force and now you came of your own free will.

This was too much for the boy. Her condition, so different from what he had been accustomed to over the past weeks, was getting on his nerves. He couldn't deal with it.

— Have you gone completely crazy? — He asked in the coldest tone [Reader] had ever heard from him.

Yuri pinched the bridge of his nose, sighed, and then sat down on the bench next to her.

— I saw both performances online. You may be on a similar level but you are better than her. Just look at your fouetté at the end. Those damn judges must have been blind when they gave you half a point less.

The girl raised her head to look at his face. She had rarely seen him talk about something with such conviction. She was ashamed to admit it but she didn't suspect Yuri of ever being able to give anyone a compliment. For that reason, however, this one had a stronger effect on her than most she had heard about her dancing before.

The Yuri's green eyes seemed sincere. The decision she had made that afternoon now seemed to her like a less than fantastic vision, driven by the impulse of failure.

— I'm grateful but...

— If you think I'm just saying this because I want to comfort you, then...

— That's not what I meant — she quickly denied. — I appreciate what you said but I still need to think about whether I want to enter the next competition. Go back and tell Lilia not to worry.

— But if you do, just know that at the next competition I'm going to sit in the audience and watch you beat the crap out of all of them and...

— Yuri!

The boy rolled his eyes and stood up from the bench. [Reader] did one of the most spontaneous things she had ever done. She ran to him and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek.

— Thank you again — she whispered and returned to her seat.

The Russian smiled to himself, feeling a feeling of warmth spread throughout his body.

That night neither of them could sleep.

[tinyundercover]

the half-pint

Nyx and Perrin are thieves in a fantasy universe. After a mishap, Nyx suffers the consequences of her actions. word count: 2.5k @gtgotcha4gaza prompt for @sizediscount !! the donation period is still open if anyone wants to contribute and receive g/t art or writing <3

Nyx’s jobs were always simple— get in, steal the thing, then get out. 

She had been accepting these jobs for years, and by now she considered herself to be one of the best thieves in the area. Along with her partner, Perrin, there wasn’t a single enchanted object, gold coin, or rare pet that the two of them couldn’t steal with ease. 

However, as she and Perrin peered into the camp of fairies, she immensely regretted accepting this job.

“How are we supposed to get to the flower without being seen?” Nyx muttered, dark eyes narrowed. 

The two of them were hidden behind a bush, crouched on the dead leaves of the forest floor. Beside her, Perrin sent her an amused glance. Brown curly hair rested atop his head, slightly darker than his warm, tan skin. “Who cares if some fairies see us? What are they gonna do, bite our ankles?” 

Nyx frowned, gaze focused ahead. Her black hair was pulled back into dozens of dark braids, snaking down her back. “Fairies can cast spells, genius.”

Perrin’s lips twitched into a smile at her stoic response, glancing back towards the camp. “I know, I’m just joking.”

Earlier in the day, a client had reached out to the Nyx and Perrin, requesting their skills. Their task was to retrieve an incredibly rare flower from the center of the fairies’ camp, buried deep in the woods. 

Nyx prided herself on being stealthy, nothing more than a shadow— yet as she examined the rows of miniature houses ahead, she wondered how she could possibly sneak through this tiny town without her footsteps shaking the buildings.

She felt like a big, awkward giant. Even crouched on the forest floor, hidden behind the bush, she was bigger than any of the little buildings. She could maybe squeeze her hand through a doorway if she tried. The houses were scattered over the ground, assembled from twigs and leaves. Tiny lamplights, glowing with green fairy magic, illuminated the area.

Even though it was well into the night, Nyx could still see the glimmering, colorful wings of the fairies still awake, drifting between the shops and houses, floating mere inches above the ground. Each fairy appeared to be the size of her pinky.

Further into the center of the little camp, about twenty feet away from Nyx and Perrin, a thin plant reached towards the night sky. Several blue flowers sprouted off of it, glowing faintly. All they needed was one of those flowers, and their mission would be complete.

“This sucks,” Nyx grumbled, sitting back. “We’re too big. They’re gonna see us no matter what we do.”

“We’ll just have to be fast, then,” Perrin mused, fingers drumming over the thick material of his pant leg. They both wore dark, earthy colors to blend into the forest around them. “I could run in there and grab a flower in ten seconds.”

“Ten seconds is more than enough time to get cursed by a bunch of fairies, Perrin,” Nyx scolded. He shrugged his large shoulders.

“It was just an idea. What do you suggest?”

Nyx focused on the blue flowers ahead, eyes narrowing. “I have a plan.”

Minutes later, Perrin had disappeared into the tangles of the forest, leaving Nyx alone behind the bush. She waited patiently, barely blinking, the silence of the forest unbearable.

Eventually, she heard a crash from deep in the forest, as well as Perrin’s footsteps dramatically stomping away. To Nyx, it wasn’t incredibly loud, but the tiny fairies mingling around the camp reacted as if they had experienced an earthquake. 

Immediately, voices rose up from the winged people, bright and angry. Perrin continued to make quite a ruckus somewhere in the forest, serving as a distraction, and Nyx leaned forward, focused.

The fairies began to swoop towards the noise, away from Nyx. Careful not to rustle the leaves around her, Nyx pulled herself to her feet, her lean body posed to move quickly.

The fairies seemed even smaller once she stood to her full height. She watched silently, hidden in the shadows of the trees, until the swarm of glowing wings faded into the distance. Once she was certain that the camp was empty, she darted forward into the tiny village.

The houses barely reached her knees. Nyx kept her gaze low as she weaved through the buildings, cautious of where she placed her feet. She didn’t want to knock anything over— her job was to steal a flower, not to leave destruction.

Her heart raced with exhilaration when she finally reached the plant. It twisted towards the sky, swaying slightly, and without any hesitation she whipped her knife out of her sleeve and sliced a flower off at the stem.

The glow of the flower flickered briefly. Dropping it into a small jar she had retrieved from her tunic, she spun on her heels, swiftly moving away.

The hum of fairy wings grew in her ear, and she cursed under her breath. Just as she reached the edge of the camp, a blur of green wings blocked her vision.

Nyx stumbled, pressing all of her weight into the balls of her feet so as to not tumble over and break any of the delicate buildings. She jerked back, focusing on the fairy hovering directly in front of her face, his little arms crossed over his chest.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He barked, his small voice alight with fury.

This fairy must have stayed behind in the camp. For a moment, Nyx was terrified— until she processed just how small this man was. It was very difficult to feel intimidated by someone the size of his finger.

She scowled, darting around him. “Get out of my way, half-pint.” His wings hummed angrily.

Fortunately, he didn’t seem keen to chase after her. He only called out to her, voice dwindling with the distance Nyx rapidly put between them. “How confident,” he remarked. “You’ll regret this.”

When Nyx glanced over his shoulder, he was still hovering at the edge of the camp, the glow of his wings illuminating the trees in a faint green light. She said nothing, lips thinning.

His words rocked around her mind until she met up with Perrin, half a mile from the camp. He clapped her on the shoulder, grinning as she presented the jar— but despite their victory, her stomach still tingled with unease.

—

After the worst sleep of her life, Nyx jolted awake.

Darkness surrounded her, suffocating. She blinked rapidly, reaching around for the edge of her blanket, but she couldn’t figure out where she was.

Last night, after their successful mission, Nyx and Perrin had retreated to the closest inn and passed out on cheap beds. Nyx had been prepared for a restless night on the lumpy bed and stringy blanket, but she hadn’t expected to feel this dizzy upon waking up.

“What the hell…” Nyx muttered, finally finding the edge of the blanket and yanking it down to her chest. The fabric was much thicker than she remembered. She hadn’t realized that the blanket was large enough to cover her entire body… strange.

Her confusion grew as soon as her vision cleared.

The ceiling, dark and wooden, stretched high above her. She blinked several times, brow furrowing. The room hadn’t seemed this big when she had gone to sleep last night.

Something was inexplicably wrong.

Anxiety wormed its way into her chest, she sat up, wrapping her arms around herself. Icy fear struck her like lightning when she registered what she was seeing. 

The bed stretched around her, an impossibly huge expanse of beige cloth comparable to a wheat field. The edge of the mattress dropped away to a wide, empty space, a drop that would surely kill Nyx if she were to tumble off. Beside her, her pillow was a mountain.

“What…” Nyx swallowed, the color draining from her face.

If she didn’t know any better, she would think she was the size of a fairy.

Her stomach twisted into knots, fearful, confused, shocked. Fighting the dizziness clouding her mind, she shoved herself to her feet— and immediately her arms shot out to keep her balance. She let out a panicked shout, heart pounding. The plush mattress was much harder to stand on than she had been expecting.

Something creaked in response to her yell. Nyx snapped her head up to the other bed.

Her heart jumped into her throat. The sun was barely rising in the window, pale light streaming in to illuminate the hill of Perrin’s shoulder. His chest moved with steady breaths, curls buried into a pillow.

“Oh gods,” Nyx mumbled, stomach dropping.

Perrin was already a big guy, shoulders broad and thick— but this was incomprehensible. Even from across the room, his size absolutely overwhelmed her. Usually they were close to the same height, but Nyx was small enough now that he could easily scoop her up in one hand, and the thought made her nauseas. Nyx’s breath hitched in her throat, unable to pull her gaze away from his enormous, sleeping form.

“Oh gods,” Nyx repeated, panic rising.

Her heart jumped as Perrin shifted again, a large hand tightening on his pillow. When his eyes fluttered open, she fought the urge to turn and run.

It’s just Perrin.

You’ve worked with him for a year. 

It’s Perrin. It’s fine.

Nyx swallowed thickly, stepping back, heart thudding nervously. Perrin didn’t notice her. He sat up and stretched, yawning into his hand. 

His movement brought a small gasp from Nyx’s lips. She hadn’t expected him to sit up, especially not so quickly, revealing that he was much bigger than she could have imagined.

Gods. I’m small.

Her chest tightened when his gaze swooped towards her, drawn to her gasp. Panic settled into her stomach as soon as his eyes fixed on her small form, squinting, then widening.

The world seemed to freeze for a moment, as he took in the sight of her tiny, trembling form. 

“…Nyx?” His voice broke, shocked.

Adrenaline gripped her by the wrists. All reasoning left her mind, leaving her only with primal terror— and with no explanation why, she spun around and bolted.

“Wha— Nyx!”

The startled shout only encouraged her to sprint faster, stumbling over the thick blanket. Panic raced in her chest, shrieking in her ears to run.

Perrin’s footsteps behind her were large and fast, shaking the bed below her. She let out a shriek of surprise when two enormous hands slammed onto the bed in front of her, and before she could halt her sprint she collided right into his palms.

“Nyx, Nyx, woah— it’s okay!”

Cold terror shook Nyx to her core. She staggered away from the enormous hands in front of her, each finger large enough to overpower her with ease— a terrifying, sickening thought. She whirled around, wobbling on the plush surface. 

Perrin was kneeling on the floor, broad chest pressed into the side of the bed. His arms stretched forward, hands clasped firmly behind Nyx’s tiny form, trapping her. He was absolutely massive.

No. I’m tiny.

His eyebrows tugged together, a plethora of uneasy emotions crossing his face. Under his enormous, overwhelming gaze, Nyx felt like a mouse. She wanted to sob.

“It’s okay, it’s okay— I promise.” Perrin’s intense gaze focused on her, glancing over her trembling form. “It’s just me, Nyx, I’m not gonna hurt you.”

His comforting words tugged at her heart, and she took several deep breaths, hugging herself. Perrin’s presence surrounded her, enormous and overbearing, and she choked on her breath. “What’s— what’s happening—?”

“Breathe,” Perrin ordered gently, gaze softening. Something enormous and warm pressed into Nyx’s back, and after a nervous flinch she registered that it was his finger. “It’s okay.”

Nyx’s breath shuddered, and she brought her hand to her dark cheek, shakily scraping away the tear that had fallen.

Once Perrin seemed confident that Nyx had relaxed, he carefully unclasped his fingers and pulled his hands towards himself. Nyx let out a shaky breath, stomach twisting.

“Are you okay?” Perrin finally asked, brow knit together in concern.

Nyx swallowed, struggling to meet his enormous gaze. Her voice felt small and weak when she spoke, an uncomfortable feeling. “I… I think so.”

Perrin observed her glancing anxiously around the expansive room, taking in her wobbly, tearful, tiny form. “What happened?”

She blinked in confusion. Reaching back into her memory, she focused on the events of last night. Green wings floated around her mind.

Gods!

“I think… I think a fairy cursed me,” she murmured, heart sinking.

Fairy magic was incredibly difficult to fight. If Nyx wanted to break the curse and grow herself back to her usual height, it would take unfathomable amounts of research and work. The thought that she might be trapped this size for an indefinite amount of time made her feel ill.

“Oh.” Perrin blinked in surprise. “Huh. I guess you were right about how dangerous fairies are.”

“You think?” Nyx muttered, face hot. 

Perrin glanced over her, and Nyx wondered if he was aware of how intimidating he appeared, just by existing. He chewed his lip, lost in thought. “It’s alright,” he finally said. “There’s a library downstairs. I’m sure they have hundreds of books on fairy magic.”

“Right.” Nyx nodded unhappily, her stomach jumping every time Perrin shifted, as if he might snatch her up without warning. “Right, we should… go do some research.”

He nodded. His shoulders straightened up, shooting icy surprise into Nyx’s ribs, but he didn’t seem to notice her startled flinch. With a focused expression, he reached towards her.

Nyx inwardly cursed, jerking back from the massive, approaching fingers. However, instead of trapping her in an overwhelming fist like she had expecting, Perrin only lowered his hand to the bed, palm facing up. His gaze softened.

“Let’s go,” he offered. “I can’t imagine you want to stay that size any longer than you have to.”

She blinked up at him, tense. Her mind raced.

“Yeah,” she slowly agreed, peering down at his palm. “Right.”

His hand was enormous. Thick scars and calluses awaited her, his skin worn and damaged with overuse. She froze, stomach cold.

Her trepidation did not go unnoticed. Perrin leaned closer, eyes gentle. “Do you want to stay here?”

His words suddenly felt insulting. Did she really appear so weak and vulnerable that a simple trip to the library downstairs was too much for her? Her terror slowly melded into embarrassment. She and Perrin had gotten into countless dangerous situations together, all of which she had remained calm and cool and rational. This shouldn’t be any different.

Fueled by spite, she surged forward, stepping firmly onto his hand. 

She wobbled, not expecting the skin of his palm to sink slightly beneath her feet. Fighting the anxiety flickering in her chest, she sat down, settling into the center of his massive palm. Her arms crossed.

“Alright,” she huffed, furious at the situation. Perrin’s lips twitched in amusement. “Let’s go.”

If she was lucky, they’d be able to find a counterspell in the library, and she’d be back to normal in a few hours.

Everything would be fine.

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I had a great time writing this!! be sure to check out the other writing/art contributions from other volunteers as well!! <3